The Red in the Rose
New Rock Creek, 1149 ADI
Crystal
The wind whistles through the tall grass, its sound possesses an eerie, almost human quality. I shiver in the darkness as dew drenches my bare feet and a full moon stares blankly down, piercing the night with a pale, cold glow.
I watch each swaying tree and peer into the shadows behind them. Nothing. They seem untouched by the harsh moonlight. Strange—I thought we had a full moon two weeks ago.
I turn around to follow the small, dirt path back to my mid-home; I’d like to get inside soon—something feels wrong. I glance at the ground, and my eyes widen. The path is gone; no sign of it remains. I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat as I stare at wind-blown grass waving where a path existed only a moment earlier. I peer beyond it toward my home—but nothing is visible through the trees. I didn’t see any there before… am I looking the wrong way?
I whirl around, but trees block my view in every direction. They encircle the clearing like a wall, stretching to the sky, with murky darkness hiding behind their thin trunks and wispy branches. I stand in the middle of the clearing and force a shaky breath. Every tree—every blade of grass—they all look identical. Am I… lost?
The wind dies, leaving nothing but the sound of my heartbeat. The wind whispers again then rises to a wail. Sounds like a baby cryin’. The gust stays low, whipping through the grass so hard that the ground looks like it’s moving. To my right, a mound of earth forms where nothing but flat ground lay a moment ago. I step back, my heart catching in my throat. A rotting human hand punches through and reaches upward. The dirt around the hand crumbles away to reveal the head and chest of a partially decayed corpse.
I can’t find the breath for a scream, and shock roots me to the spot as the corpse’s sunken eyes meet mine. It pulls a perfectly intact wide-brimmed hat from the dirt, places it on its head, and tips it in my direction.
Terror grips my chest as the corpse attempts to crawl from its earthy prison. Its hollow gaze remains on me. Its nearly toothless mouth is stuck in a smile, and a single-bladed axe is embedded in its back. It swipes at my ankle with a long-nailed claw of a hand, and I jerk away, breaking into a run. A familiar pain erupts in my left shoulder as something yanks my arm backward. My legs slide out from under me, causing me to fall.
Desperate energy surges through my body and I scramble to my feet, ignoring the pain. I glance back. The corpse with its wide-brimmed hat has freed itself from the dirt. It stretches slowly to its full height and towers over me. Behind it, an even larger figure stands, holding one end of a taut chain that stretches in my direction. He’s only a silhouette in the moonlight, but I would recognize him anywhere. Daddy?
I notice extra weight and a tight, clammy, metallic grip on my left wrist. I glance down to find the chain locked around it, holding me in place.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Daddy calls out. Thoughts and words fail me. My lips are cracked and my throat is too dry to control. I shake my head. He stands unmoving. A grating squeal like two pieces of rusty metal rubbing against each other rips through my ears as the corpse tears the axe from its back. The grin spreads over its face far wider than it should ever go. With a piercing shriek, it hoists its weapon in both hands and swings at my neck. I can only watch, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to breathe.
I gasp for air and open my eyes. Dim blue light peeks through the windows of our mid-home, announcing the nearness of dawn. I’m cold. I feel a warm body behind me and a sweaty hand grasping my left wrist. Soft snoring finds my ears. Mama. Good. I didn’t wake her.
She lies huddled close to me, our new, fuzzy, gray blanket bunched around her form. Mama accidentally pulls the blanket in her sleep sometimes. I try to slip my hand away without moving her, but her grip is too strong. So I wait. I stare at the little blue flowers on my nightgown and shiver, wishing the material was thicker. I sigh. I used to hate how I’d cry over these nightmares. Now, I’m just tired of them. I know they’re going to happen; they always do—nothing else to expect.
“David…” Mama snuggles closer to me and mumbles in her sleep. She’s dreamin’ about Daddy too. I catch a glimpse of her face and she doesn’t look upset; she’s almost smiling. Maybe her nightmare is less awful than mine. I try one more time to pull my wrist away, and Mama frowns. “No… stay with me… no,” she groans as she locks her arm around mine.
“Sorry,” I whisper, yanking my wrist with more force. This time, it comes free. Mama snorts and snaps to attention as I move to the edge of the bed. She squints at me and I do my best to smile. “Good mornin’,” I say. She gives me a tired glance and nods, observing me with empty eyes. I roll off of the bed’s edge and land awkwardly on my feet. “Do you want any breakfast? I can get somethin’ from the smokehouse if you want it.”
“No,” she says, with a touch of sharpness, “we have to save that for travelin’.”
“Okay.” I shrug. I try not to mind the tone; she can be snappy sometimes when she gets interrupted while thinking. For some reason, she’s saved everything we’ve smoked for weeks now. I’m sure we could use some of it once in a while, but that conversation is hardly worth it.
I shuffle away and head for the closet—my favorite place in the house. I can keep all the dresses that people have given me in it and there’s still plenty of room for more. It’ll look so fancy once it’s full of clothes. Apparently some people in New Rock Creek have a separate closet for each member of their family. Gideon told me about one person who built a closet just for shoes. I smile to myself. That seems like an awful stretch. I’ll need to see it to believe it. I stare at my lineup of dresses. One day, I’ll live in a house with a closet just for shoes.
Mama calls out behind me, “Where all’re you headin’ off to today?”
I glance back in her direction. “Well, I’ve got a piano lesson, and there’s this song about a girl who has a lamb and it follows her. I can almost play it right. I just hit the wrong one sometimes when I have to do the high part with this finger.” I wiggle my pinky. “I’m gonna get it this time, though. And then, after that, I’m gonna…“
Mama holds up a hand, her eyebrows creased. “Sweetie, stop for a second. Are you talkin’ about ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”
She knows about it too! “Yeah, that one!”
Mama seems to think really hard about this—and she stares at nothing.
“Mama? You okay?”
She blinks a few times. “Yeah… I just, I never…” she looks at the floor. “I never did, did I? I didn’t…” she leans forward on the bed and puts her hand over her mouth.
Something’s definitely wrong. “Is it okay if I learn it? There’s nothin’ wrong with it, is there?”
Mama’s eyes are shiny with uncried tears. “Oh, yes… of course it’s fine. I’m glad you’re learnin’ it now.” She notes the worry on my face. “Real glad. I mean it.” She stands up, half paying attention to me, half musing on something far away. “Crystal,” she says after a moment, “you still seein’ that boy, what’s his name—Gideon?”
“Yes ma’am.” A grin spreads across my face without my permission. “I’m gonna go see him before my lesson. He should be workin’ with his daddy in the field.”
“And he’s a nice boy, you said?”
“Yes ma’am. He’s real nice—the nicest.” The house suddenly feels warmer, and I can’t get rid of my smile no matter how hard I try. “I’m sure he’d like to meet you,” I add, “and Miss Marie, too! You could always come with me.”
Mama gives me a strange look. I have no idea what it means. She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. Not this time. It sounds like you have some real good people ‘round you.”
I watch her face questioningly. “…Yes ma’am.” I don’t want her all alone in this house. I wish she’d do something—anything. She never meets people. She silently watches from the bed as I get ready for the day. I pick my dress last; there are too many choices. Finally, I decide on a red and white one that Miss Marie offered last week. She said that it belonged to her daughter years ago and she wanted me to have it.
Mama stares listlessly, lost in thought as I move toward the front door.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come,” I ask.
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m sure. You go on and make sure you don’t miss him, okay?” I nod. She pushes herself off the bed, walks over to me, and kisses me on the cheek. “I love you, Crystal. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Slightly confused, I give her a hug. “I love you too, Mama. I’ll be back for dinner.”
“Sounds good,” she says.
Then we both wave goodbye.
I love the wheat fields in the morning, the way the wind washes over them and they move like water. I wave at all the people as I pass, and most of them wave back. Some mornings, I’m able to get to Gideon’s field right after he and his daddy start working, but I’m a little late today. He’s already working, wearing a white shirt and brown overalls. His blond hair catches the wind as he swings a large wooden stick with a long, curved metal blade at the end.
I wave at him from under the tree where he and his daddy keep their water and I wait for him to wave back. He always notices when I arrive; but today, he doesn’t. I wave again, hard enough so that he’ll have to see me. He turns for a second, clearly aware of my presence, and turns back to his work.
His daddy starts talking, and I can’t tell what he says, but I can sense the tone of his voice from more than half a field away. He’s a tall man with short, black hair, and his shoulders are wider than the rest of his body. Gideon starts to talk, too, holding his hands up like he’s trying to explain something. His daddy gets louder though, and Gideon stops and turns around to work again.
He slumps like he’s trying to hide, and he keeps his back to me. I sit next to the tree with my arms hugged around my knees, and every few minutes, I peek at the watch that Mr. Ethan, Miss Marie’s husband, gave to me. When the short stick is close to the 10 and the long stick reaches the 9, I’ll need to leave. Right now, the long stick is on the 7.
Gideon’s daddy watches him work. I think he’s commenting on everything Gideon does. His voice is far quieter now, but Gideon still slumps. His swings look like they’re too fast and sloppy. His daddy’s voice rises to a yell and punctures the air again. I catch a few words—lazy, useless, women, and work, with a few other words in between. Gideon stops swinging and protests, but his daddy cuts him off, maintaining the harshness of his tone. As he finishes talking, he points towards the tree where I’m sitting, then points past it.
Gideon stands still for a moment before taking his tool and trudging toward the tree. I walk out to meet him. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it. Or maybe he’ll want to talk about somethin’ else. Either way, I’m sure he could use someone to talk to. I wave again as he approaches. “Hi!”
He gives a half-hearted wave and turns to look the other way, his jaw subtly tightening. He says nothing as he passes me.
I turn to walk beside him. “So, are you takin’ a break?”
He swallows hard. “No,” he says hoarsely.
“Oh, well, do you wanna talk about it?”
He gives me a stormy look. “What’s to talk about? I screw up everything I touch.”
I scrunch my eyebrows. I’ve never heard him talk like this. “Gideon… what’s wrong?” Concern colors my tone despite my best efforts. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can—if you wanna.”
“I’m fine.” He stops without warning, and I catch a hint of annoyance in his gaze. What does he want me to do? I stop beside him, watching him expectantly, and he rolls his eyes. “There, we talked.” His voice cracks.
I stare at my shoes. I don’t know how to help. I should try harder.
He sighs. “Do you need something?”
His words catch me off guard. “…No, I was… I was wondering…“
“Then do you mind,” he cuts in, “leaving me alone for once?”
My legs suddenly feel like stone. Wait, I’ve… I’ve been bothering you? I’ve been bothering you this whole time? I bite my lip, blink back tears, and stand there stupidly, saying nothing. I could ask him if he meant it. I could ask him if there was still a way I could help. Or maybe he was just being polite to me before. I… I don’t know. I take a small step away from him. “I… didn’t mean to,” I whisper.
He shakes his head, his gaze glued to the ground. “Uh, no. Gosh…” He makes a face and scratches the back of his head. “Don’t you have, like, a piano lesson or something you have to get to?” I nod at his blurring form, willing the tears not to fall. I don’t want to cry in front of him—not again. He looks down at my hands. “Where’s your book?”
“Oh…” I study my empty hands then glance back at him. Oh no. Could this day get any worse? “I… I left it at home.”
He nods. “Yeah, uh, sorry, you should—don’t let me hold you up.”
Right… I shouldn’t bother you anymore. I’m gonna be late now. I might as well leave. Dazed, I back away, then turn and sprint toward my mid-home, leaving Gideon where he stands.
I burst through the door, gasping for breath. “Mama… sorry, I forgot… my book.” I pause. No response. Did she go back to sleep? It would be hard to sleep through my entrance. I creep farther into the house, trying to be especially quiet, just in case. I eye my music book, waiting for me on our little wooden kitchen table. Did she do that? She knows that’s not where I keep it.
I retrieve it and peek around the cabin. The blanket and sheets are folded neatly on the bed, the floor is the cleanest I’ve ever seen it, and all of our washed dishes are put away. But I don’t see Mama. “Hello? Mama? Are you in here?” I inspect the front of the place. Mama’s coat is missing from our rack and her favorite leather bag is gone. Oh. Well, that’s good. She finally got out of the house.
I’ll be late for my lesson anyway—so I check one more place: the smokehouse. The aroma of dried meat and fruit wafts from the slatted building. I crack open the heavy door and slip inside, careful not to allow much of the smoke to escape. I wander around the place, peering through the thick, gray air. My eyes water and my throat stings. I reach the small corner section set aside for our use, and I stop, the aggravation of the smoke forgotten. The area is completely empty. There isn’t a single piece of jerky or dried fruit left. Who would take all our stuff?
I step out of the smokehouse and walk back home. I stand in the middle of the place, my mind racing. What happened? She must be going on some sort of journey… or she was forced. What if Daddy came back and that’s why everything is missing? What if he came for her and dragged her away while I was gone? How would he have known? Mr. Jotham wouldn’t let that happen.
I take a deep breath. Maybe I’m not thinking right. There could be another reason why all the jerky is gone. Maybe she’s just out of the house and someone else stole it… maybe. A shadow blocks the light streaming through the open door. “You won’t find her in this place,” I hear Mr. Jotham’s voice.
I turn to face him. “Then where is she? He took her, didn’t he?” Panic knots my stomach. Mr. Jotham is silent. “Tell me!” I yell. “Tell me what happened!”
“Crystal,” his voice is heavy, “no one took her.”
I stare at him. “She just left? Is that what you’re sayin’?” I feel my face grow hot. “You promised. You promised she’d follow me here!”
Mr. Jotham takes a deep breath. “I promised, Crystal, that she would follow if you left first. You left with her.”
Fury burns in my tears. I look at him like I’ve never met him before. That placid expression feels like a mask now. What is it hiding—apathy? “What difference does that make?” I spit.
“A great deal of difference, actually. Crystal, you… quite lovingly… forced her choice.”
“I just… I just did what’s best. No one else ever does! Ain’t that what you do—tell all of ‘em what’s best?”
“Yes, yes it is what I do,” he says, his voice shaking a little. “But I do not force them—the time for that is long past.”
“Oh, so you ain’t gonna stop me then?” I glare up at him, daring him to do something.
He steps closer. “No, Crystal, though I would in an instant if I loved you even slightly less.” His eyes glisten with uncried tears.
I tilt my chin up to push my face closer to his. “No cryin’. You don't get to cry. I do.” I pause. “Now would you please leave? I need to change.” I bite my tongue as the words fly, but I keep my composure. I know I’m not supposed to be rude to someone like him, but he just doesn’t understand.
He blinks a few times, lingering in silence, then moves backward toward the door. “Crystal—Just so you know, I am not, and I have never been angry with you,” he says. Then he leaves. I stare at his departing form through the open door. There are so many people I should tell; at least I should say “goodbye.” But there’s no time for that. Besides, I’ll be back soon, maybe even before anyone else realizes that I’ve gone.
I slip into my old brown dress, which I’ve kept carefully at the back of the closet. It’s already stained with blood and will look dirty forever. It’s perfect. I pack some water and retrieve a large shovel from our yard. It was a gift from a neighbor; now I’ll put it to good use. If I run into him again, this time I won’t be tired. This time I won’t be surprised. If he’s the one who made her run away, I’ll make him give her up.
I pass through the back end of the row of mid-homes, all the way to New Rock Creek’s wall. I climb it. I know it’s there to keep problems outside, but maybe—maybe there are problems inside, too. I stare at the sky, hoping for signs of smoke, but I see none nearby. It’s not safe for smaller groups to draw attention with a fire. I survey the wiry vines creeping along the ground and wrapping around the rocky ruins. Desolate buildings sprawl around me like corpses, partially buried in the rocky ground by their own rubble.
A familiar dryness scratches my throat, and I drink some of my water. The sun feels hotter, closer. I glance back at the lush green behind the wall. Something in me misses it already. I sigh. It ain’t like—it’s not like I’m stayin’ out here. No one should have to stay out here.
I pause. Well, maybe he should. I grab my left wrist and squeeze. Mama… where did you go? Am I even on the right side of New Rock Creek? What if you went back the way we came in when we got here? No, you wouldn’t walk through all the people. You’d go this way. I squint at the ruins and dust. Where to start? I remember Gideon praying for rain and I have an idea. I clear my throat. “God… which way should I go to find Mama? … Amen.”
Will God listen? Will He care? My words weren’t exactly special. Either way, it’s worth a try. My wandering attention rests on a two-story, brick building maybe two hundred paces away. It's tucked between three or four others. All of its windows are missing, along with half of the roof, but it’s otherwise intact. I inch forward with my shovel raised, warily checking every building, every outside corner, and every hole.
It’s all clear. As I reach the doorway of the building, I catch the slight sound of snoring coming from inside and I peer through the entrance. Mama is sleeping in the middle of the floor, her coat covering her like a blanket. My eyes go wide. It worked! The prayer actually worked. Does that mean I’m right and Mr. Jotham is wrong? That wouldn’t make sense—and is it just her, or is Daddy around here too? I don’t see him. Hair stands up on the back of my neck at the thought.
She’s snoring more loudly than I’ve heard since we began life in New Rock Creek, and memories of the time before our new life flood my mind. My excitement fades. She isn’t sober, and it hasn’t even been a day.
I crawl to Mama’s sleeping form on hands and knees and gently tap her shoulder. “Mama… Mama. It’s me. It’s Crystal.”
She murmurs something and squints at me with one open eye. “Am I dreamin’?”
I shake my head. “No, you’re not. Mama, I’m gonna take you home. I don’t know why you’re out here, but we can head on back now.”
“Is that so?” A deep, all-too-familiar voice booms out behind me. “Now what’re you doin’ here?”
Dread jolts through my body, but I clench my teeth and stand up slowly, shovel in hand. I look right at him. “Hi, Daddy.”
He observes me drily then nods at the shovel. “I s’posed to be scared of that?”
I stick out my chin. My legs wobble, but my voice remains steady. “I figure that’s up to you. All I know is that you can’t do nothin’ to me.” I step forward, shovel pointed in front of me. “You can’t do nothin’ at all, or he’ll kill you. I heard him say it. And he can do it too.” My mind wanders to Mr. Jotham—our argument. Would he still save me after that, or am I on my own?
His expression darkens and a blood vessel protrudes slightly from his forehead as he clenches his jaw, but he takes a step away. “I wouldn’t dream of touchin’ a hair on your head, missy. Not a one.” He inhales and glances up at the roof solemnly. “I daresay I have learned the error of my ways. I would say, in fact, that I’m… reformed.” He flashes me a smile and nods back at Mama. “Ain’t that right, honey?”
I gape at Mama. She avoids my gaze and nods at Daddy. Her eyes are glassy and her movements are slow but coherent. Maybe she’s still sort of sober. This could be worse.
He continues, taking off his hat and placing it over his chest. “A man can make mistakes, but then, a man can ask for forgiveness.” He opens his mouth to spew more, but I cut him off.
“Mama, what’re you thinkin’? How’d he even find you so fast?”
She stares at the floor. “He was waitin’ for me. He’s been waitin’.”
“But you ran away from him!” I lean down and get close to her face, hissing the words. “You ran away from him with me! Did you forget about that? Did you forget what you said? And can’t you see he’s lyin’? He’s lyin’ right through his teeth!”
Daddy cuts in. “Who are you to judge a man? I’m a…" He thinks for a second, “...a new creation.”
That sounds like scripture… who’s been tellin’ him things like that? I keep my gaze on Mama. “You know he’s just sayin’ stuff, right?” I whisper.
She nods almost imperceptibly and a knowing look flashes in her eyes for an instant. Then, it shifts. “I didn’t forget, Crystal. Don’t you worry. But—it might be different this time.” Her voice wavers, like she doesn't quite mean what she says.
“Mama, just come home.”
“This is home,” Daddy says.
“Not hers,” I retort. “Runnin’ away from you’s the best thing she ever—“
“She ran away for you, you little brat! How selfish can you be?”
“Is that so?” I spit back at him, mocking his earlier tone. I glance back at Mama. “Go on, tell him. He can’t hurt us. You can tell him it ain’t true. You can tell him whatever you want, and then you can come home. He can’t stop you.” I grip the shovel with more force. “I won’t let him.”
She shakes her head, meets my eyes briefly, and looks away. “Sweetheart, I did tell you to run by yourself.”
My confidence melts into confusion. “What—what’re you sayin’?”
She chokes on her words. “I’m sayin’ you don’t need me, Crystal. You’re better off without the both of us.”
I watch her expression with pure disbelief. “No, that’s not true… that’s not true. I need you more than anyone!” Mama, what’s makin’ you say all this?
“No, you don’t!” Mama shouts, pushing her face close to mine. “I’ll just drag you down. I can’t be like those people and I don’t want to be. I’d do it for you if you needed me, but you don’t.” Her words crumble into sobs. “You—you turned out so good and it ain’t got nothin’ to do with me—with either of us.” Silence fills the room for a moment, then she adds, in a raspy whisper, “I couldn’t bear to ruin that.”
That’s not what this is about. That’s not… “Mama, I don’t care about all that. I just want you to be safe. That’s all I..." I don’t know how to find the words. I don’t know how to make her understand. Fog swallows my thoughts and plans, leaving my mind blank.
She puts her hand on my cheek. “Crystal, I need you to hear me. I don’t belong there. You belong there, but I belong here. This is where I feel safe.”
I stand up, stunned, and turn slowly to my father. He leers down at me with his arms crossed. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he gets to keep her. I can’t believe he gets to win.
You don’t have a reformed bone in your body. I hate you. I hate you with every part of myself! My legs take me toward the door, but I stop them. No. You don’t get to win. I won’t let you. I’ll never let you win, no matter how long it takes.
“No.” I whip around and look Mama straight in the eyes. “I told you once. I ain’t leavin’ unless you do.”
