Rosethorn (12 page)

Bending his head, for the branches hung low, he turned to her and held out his hand. Sera leaned her bike against his and took his hand. The dry summer grass had grown unhindered here, as if no one had stepped this way for years, and reached above her waist. Crickets hummed in the heat, accompanying their footsteps as they waded through the tall golden chaff and towering weeds.

“I found this last weekend while I was waiting for you to finish up.”

The prickly weeds stung Sera’s bare legs as they chomped through. Beyond Andrew’s tall back, she saw a high stone wall that ran far on either side. They stopped at the edge of a rusted black wrought iron gate, one corner unhinged from the wall. A thick chain closed both sides of the gate shut with a heavy padlock. Sera stood next to Andrew and looked through the iron scrollwork.

A dense briar as tall as Sera had grown wild beyond the gate. It was covered everywhere with extravagant crimson roses blooming with abandon. The briar seemed as thick as the stone wall, for she could see nothing through it. The scent of roses surrounded them.

“Can you see it?”

“What?"

Andrew pointed beyond the briar. Sera saw spires rising against the blue summer sky. Sera stood on tiptoe and craned her neck but could see nothing else.

“Is it a house?"

Andrew nodded and began climbing up the gate, placing his feet on its iron scrolls and leaves. He reached the top and gingerly sat on the blunt ornamental arrows crowning the gate before jumping off, landing inches from the thorny briar.

Sera followed slowly, hands sweating. When she reached the top, she carefully placed each leg on the other side of the gate.

Andrew looked up at her, his arms outstretched. She slowly took off her backpack with one hand, while holding onto the top of the gate with the other and dropped it into Andrew’s hands.

“Your turn." Andrew held his arms out again, beckoning her.

It seemed like a long way down.

“I’ll catch you."

Sera swallowed and rubbed her sweaty palms on her shorts. “Promise?”

Sera stayed on top, finding it hard to let go.

“I won’t let anything happen to you." Finding reassurance in Andrew’s encouraging eyes, Sera took a deep breath then jumped off.

She screamed as she fell, cut short when Andrew caught her in his arms. He stumbled back a few steps then gaining a steady footing, grinned at her, “See, I told you."

He started to bend his head then stopped and set her on her feet instead. Sera turned away and put on her backpack.

They followed the length of briar hedge until Andrew spied a narrow break. Carefully moving sideways in single-file, they went through the briars and emerged on the other side. Squinting in the bright sun, Sera saw the house for the first time.

An old Victorian stood surrounded by a vast, overgrown garden. Sera thought that a mad child genius must have designed it for it seemed too whimsical, even for a Victorian. She counted thirteen spires rising from the roof, some fat, some slim and pointed, all elaborately ornamented. There was a turret and what looked like a little gazebo on the very middle of the top of the house, set in between two gables.

The turret was large and wide, made up almost entirely of tall glass windows, dulled by age and dirt. Topping the turret's peaked roof was an unusual weather vane of a rampant winged lion, fanged mouth open in a silent stone roar.

Even the windows were fantastical, no two the same, many fitted with colored, stained glass. On the first floor by the door was a large star-shaped window. They walked closer to the house, stunned into silence. Even the front door was unlike anything she had ever seen. Roses had been carved in relief on its massive face. They walked up the steps to the wide porch. Intricately carved, white wooden scrollwork lined the first story, covered by thick cobwebs. Thorny vines of creamy white roses and green ivy covered half the house.

Andrew tried the door. The massive knob turned stiffly and the door creaked open.

Feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland, Sera stepped over the threshold with Andrew and walked in.

They were in a spacious hall, a great staircase in front of them. Instead of being dark and closed in, as Sera had expected, the inside was light and airy, all the strangely-shaped windows distorting the light so that looking left and right into the open, empty rooms, Sera could see fanciful patterns projected on the wooden floor.

Sera spied something colorful in the room to the left and pulled Andrew eagerly, pushing open the double doors on either side of its entry. It was the room that had the big star window on one side, but Sera only saw the giant fireplace, which dominated the space.

Gasping in wonder, she ran to it and crouched in front. Two wooden griffins had been carved to bear the mantle and flank the grate. She wiped the dust off of one beaked face and its wooden eyes looked stoically back at her. Each griffin stood on attention, face forward, taut muscles carved so realistically that Sera half-believed that they were about to fly off. Their great wooden wings could be seen in profile, its span running the depth of the fireplace and its tips reaching all the way to the edge of the mantle.

“I’ve never seen anything like it." Sera turned to Andrew, eyes wide. “Have you?”

Andrew shook his head, looking as awed she felt.

She then noticed what had initially caught her attention, the colorful tiles surrounding the grate. Each tile was different, fit together to form an elaborate pattern of scrolls, flourishes, leaves, and flowers painted in vivid hues.

Sera stood in the middle and tried to reach each griffin with her outstretched arms, but was unable to do so. Andrew stood in her place and reaching as she had, barely touched each beak.

Sera crouched a little in front of the griffin to the left and wiped the dust of its face to match its twin.

“How did I do? Do you like it?” he asked needlessly.

“It’s amazing, Andrew." She leaned close to the griffin’s beak as if to hear it speak.

She had never felt so odd as she did in this house. Though she had never before set foot in it, it was familiar to her somehow, as if it were a long ago, fantastic dream suddenly remembered.

“Who lived here? And what happened to them? Don’t you feel,” she said to him as she looked around, “That this is a sad house that wants to be happy?"

She expected Andrew to laugh at her fanciful thoughts but he remained silent. He was sitting with his long legs drawn up, looking into the empty grate.

“I can feel it. Don’t you?" Sera asked, searching his face.

Andrew shook his head.

“What is it?" Sera finally asked.

He looked up at her, his head tilted back. He took a deep breath and in a small voice asked, “What about us? You look at me like...." He gave a feeble smile. “Something’s different."

Everything that had happened yesterday was suddenly in the room with them, demanding attention and refusing to be ignored.

Sera took a few steps then crouched down in front of Andrew.

“I’m sorry I freaked out yesterday." Sera picked her words deliberately, sensing the fragility of what they held between them. “It’s just that everything’s happening so fast. I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Me either.”

“Aren’t you scared, even a little?”

“Only of you shutting me out like you did yesterday. Where did you go? What did you do?”

“I just thought a lot about everything and... I’m just not ready.”

“I know, I got that." Andrew gave out a mirthless laugh. “I didn’t mean to lose control like that. It won’t happen again." He cupped her hands in his. “If you want we’ll slow down. Just tell me what you need and I’ll wait. As long as it takes." He saw something troubling in her eyes. “You don’t believe me.”

“No, it’s not that. I believe you when you say you’ll wait. I do. But what if I’m never ready? What happens then
?” she withdrew her hands.

He drew in his breath. “Then we’ll deal with it. Just don’t shut me out. Everything that’s happening is happening to both of us, Sera." He took her hand and placed it on his heart. “Look at me and tell me if you don’t think I’ll do everything possible just be with you."

His voice was raw and there was no turning away from what he had laid bare for her to see.

She tried to swallow the knot in her throat, but realized she just had to let it out.

“You said something to me yesterday." Sera finally tore her eyes from Andrew and looked down, her face growing warm, her heart still, for once. “I don’t know if you remember or if you even meant it. Maybe it’s something people say when...they...you know."

She felt him grow agitated and say almost angrily, “I’ve never said that ever to any--” and stop as his eye was drawn to her hand, which was lifting the hidden necklace from below her shirt, at the end of which hung the silver bullet he had given her. He stared at it and then at her, surprised.

Hand-fastened to a silver chain by a thin wire Sera had wound tightly around the cylinder, the silver bullet caught the light streaming from the window and shone between the two of them.

“I’ll wear this always so that everyone will know how I feel.”

“Which is?" His forehead touched hers. “Say it.”

“I love you." Exhaling in great relief, he held her then, gently as if she would break, and she succumbed, laying her head on his chest.

She was, however, afraid to look at him, for at that moment when she should have been wildly happy, some strange presentiment had visited her, foretelling that the happiness she would come to know in this house would be equal to its sorrow.

Chapter 9

Andrew shifted in the long silence, seemingly impatient.

“Let me show you around,” he said abruptly, getting up.

“I really should let you get back to your work." Sera got up too and started fidgeting with her dress. “You’ve been kind
,” she said softly.

She looked up at him, summoning the strength to say goodbye without any traces of hurt or meaning. She extended a hand, which she noticed to her dismay was shaking, and said, “Thank you for the lemonade."

He reached out his hand as well and without taking his eyes off her, clasped it. Sera’s skin felt charged. She realized with some hopelessness that artifice would have to suffice. She had no defenses against a past as alive and blue-eyed as this.

Holding onto her hand, he turned around and said, as he gently pulled her towards the front, “C’mon. Take a look inside."

Sera did not say anything nor did she withdraw her hand as they made their way. When he did let go, it was to open the door and Sera found herself at the threshold. She looked at the hand he had held, not recognizing it. How had she let herself be led meekly back into this house?

“Won’t the owner mind?”

“That's never stopped us before." He grinned. "Besides, I'm the only one here.”

Sera’s reluctance gave way to curiosity and an eagerness to look inside the house whose rooms and hallways had been the architecture of potent memories. She took off her sunglasses and stepped in.

There was no furniture in the house, but it was clean. No traces of the cobwebs that had draped the corners like fine, lacy netting and the carpet of dust that had covered the floors had been swept away. The walls had been stripped of the flowery wallpaper, which she remembered as peeling and missing in places. In front of her was the staircase leading to the second floor. She ran a hand over the wood balustrade, intricately carved and inlaid with dark patterns. The top of the newel post now had a carved lion’s head on it.

“This is new
,” she said, looking at Andrew as she stroked it.

He shook his head. “I found it in one of the cupboards in the kitchen. It must have fallen off at one time.”

“It fits. It reminds me of the weathervane on top of the turret."

“Would you like to see it? The turret
?” he asked, pointing to the top and already walking up the stairs.

Sera followed him up and at the top of the stairs they turned left and up a small stairway, at the end of which was an open door. She excitedly walked past Andrew and into the room, gasping in surprised delight.

The round room was illuminated and otherworldly with the muted brilliance of the afternoon sun shining through the tall leaded and stained glass windows running almost all of the circumference. She stood in the center, where the translucent emerald, ruby, sapphire, and golden shafts met and whirled around.

“It’s been cleaned
!” she said ecstatically to Andrew, who stayed in the doorway, hands on the frame, inscrutable.

“You were right."

She had once rubbed the years of dirt on the glass and said that all the room needed was a good scrubbing inside and out. She had envisioned out loud that in the right light, the room would sparkle like a crystal jewel, but it had surpassed even that.

“It’s magic,” she said in wonder, bathed in light, arms extended and hands open as if to catch the colored beams. She spun around again, unable to contain herself.