Rose for Rose: Book Two in the Angels' Mirror Series (29 page)

Forty Four

Portland, Oregon… August 29, 2002

Arthur screamed as something flew through the mirror at him.

A bird? A blasted… but he didn’t have time to think about some stupid… because now his hand, it felt like it was on fire! What on earth was going on?

He tried to pull Rosemary back out of the mirror one last time as he yanked his hand away from whatever was causing it to feel so hot.

His grip on Rosemary’s foot slipped, and she was gone.

How could she be gone?

He pulled his hand toward his chest, only to see the skin begin to peel and ooze. How had it really been on fire, and Rosemary not be burned, too? At least, maybe she got a worse off fate than he did… and it served her right, escaping!

The bird was squawking something awful, its multicolored body flapping to and fro around the room; now here, now there; not seeming to ever land, but just squawking. Mostly something about Popeye, the crazy bird!

And now, on top of it all, his head began to pound.

Arthur tried to ignore the bird as he glanced around for something to help calm the angry skin on his hand down. Maybe he’d need to run it under some water, since it still felt like it was engulfed in flames.

He made sure his knife and gun were still at his waist and turned to go upstairs just as the door to the basement opened. That odd Officer O’Carroll stood in the doorway, armed.

“Arthur Reynolds, come out with your hands up,” he heard from outside. “This is Officer Tuah. If you surrender to Officer O’Carroll, we’ll go easy on you.”

Still near the ground, Arthur spotted his gun. Before O’Carroll got three more steps inside, he had his gun trained on him. “Now, you gets back out of here, Officer, or I’ll shoot,” he said. The burning sensation in his hand was intensifying, and it was difficult to hold his weapon with both hands, so he shifted it to his left, though he was right-handed.

“Don’ make me shoot ya,” he screamed. “Or meself, or dat gal in dere,” he said a little less loudly. “Ain’ nob’dy gotta get hurt, so jus’… jus’ back on outta here, now. A‘fore I change ma mind an’ shoot ya sorry sef an’way,” he said, a string of epithets coursing through him and out his mouth before he could stop it.

Officer O’Carroll moved a step closer, and Arthur backed away, closer to Andrea, who was screaming now. She was so weak, the scream barely registered for what it was.

“Get me out of here, please!”

“Shut yo trap, Andrea. This all be yo fault, an’way, so don’ go makin’ none o’ it worse dan it is alr’dy, or you be dead a‘fore ya know what hit ya,” he said, his eyes still on the police officer. He could see Andrea out of the corner of his eye now, and she was struggling on the bed to gain her freedom. “Stop dat. Ya jus’ gonna wear yousef out, Girl. No use. Off’cer O’Carroll here don’ care what happen t’ ya, noways. Neitha do dem cops outside.”

“Ms. Juarez? This is Officer Kirk O’Carroll. I’m here to make sure your Mama sees you alive again, and I aim to do just that. Sorry we couldn’t find you before now. We had to wait until he brought you back here where we knew he’d lower his guard again,” the man said, his gun still trained on Arthur.

He took another step forward. “I’ve got twenty more officers outside, Ms. Juarez, and you’re going to be fine now. You’ll see. And you’re Mama’s waiting for you out there, too. She knows we’ve found you, and that you’re alive.”

“Arthur Reynolds, I repeat, surrender to Officer O’Carroll at once and come out. It’s the only way to save yourself at this point. Let the women go,” came Officer Tuah’s voice over the loudspeaker again.

How did they even know he’d had them? And how did they know there was more than one women down here, since that stupid Rosemary vanished on him?

It startled Arthur so much, it made him jump and he almost pulled the trigger.

“Where’s Rosemary Jenkins,” the officer in front of him asked, taking yet another step closer.

“Don’ come no closa, I says I shoot, an’ I wasn’ kiddin’. Put yo gun down, now!”

“Where’s Rosemary Jenkins,” Officer O’Carroll asked again.

Suddenly, Arthur felt a breeze, and then he remembered the bird that had flown through the mirror when he’d lost Rosemary. It glided down onto the bed right next to Andrea, its little head cocked to the side, chattering something about hating spinach.

Instinctively, he turned to shoot at it, and heard Andrea scream. At the same moment he knew he’d hit her, the bird flew over his head and squawked, and then, suddenly, he felt something hit him in the shoulder.

Pain shot through it and down his arm, causing him to drop his gun. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. He heard himself scream but didn’t know how the sound had left his body.

With an injured right hand and a shot to his left shoulder, he was suddenly defenseless. He could still use his legs, but what was the point of running when there was no place to go?

Within moments, he heard the pounding of feet as several officers came down the steps toward him. Officer O’Carroll stepped in to check on Andrea, and Arthur vaguely noticed him shaking his head.

“Can someone go talk to the mother? I’m afraid she’s gone. Right through the gut, so I’m guessing that means the baby didn’t survive, either,” the man said softly.

Officer Tuah walked over to him and kicked his ribs, then helped the officer who’d cuffed him haul him up the stairs.

As they left the house, Arthur hung his head and tried not to listen to the wails of Margaretha Juarez as he ducked into the back of the police car.

“I’ll have a paramedic meet you at the station,” Tuah said to the other officer. The man ran a hand through his Jeri curled hair and nodded, taking the keys from Tuah before he got into the front and started the car.

Forty Five

Gloucester, Massachusetts… August 29, 1930

Peter watched Mr. Abishua as he headed for the door.

What would this other family be like? He was nervous. What if the Gafrils didn’t like him, or didn’t like his brothers?

They’d only met the Gafril family a single time, though the mother had stopped in to check on them a handful of times, too.

Ms. Liraz patted him on the hand and returned to her Shabbat preparations. Sundown would be approaching, and then, it would be too late.

His brothers were off somewhere with Shannen and Shalom, and he hoped they’d allow him to play with them sometime soon.

It seemed that, since he was the youngest, they all thought he was too small for some of their games. But Warren was still more silent than not, and they let him tag along. Whether he actually played, Peter wasn’t sure.

“Eleazar, Golda, come in! And Jerusha, you’re looking lovelier every time I see you. Come in, come in. we only have a little while before all must cease their work for the day. Shabbat will be upon us before we even know it,” Abishua said, his laughter balling up in his belly and jiggling it.

Within moments, they were at the table where Peter was sitting, and as they began their chatter in Hebrew– none of which he could understand anyway – he merely observed.

The Gafrils must be stricter than the Schwartzes,
he thought as he took in their manner of dress. Both Golda and Jerusha wore scarves on their heads, and Eleazar had on one of those funny hats Peter had only seen Abishua and Shalom wear during Shabbat.
What are those called again? A yarm, yarm… yarmulke? I think that’s it. But… why would Jerusha wear a… whatever they’re called thingie on her head if she isn’t married?

“Peter, are you listening to me,” he heard Abishua asking all of a sudden.

The man was waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry. Yes, I can hear you, Mr. Abishua, Sir,” he replied, feeling the color rise in his cheeks.

Had he zoned out again?

“I was saying that
this
is the girl Shalom will marry; Jerusha wears a sheitel now because it has already been decreed. In the olden days, being engaged was the same as being married. If the contract was broken, it was as bad as a divorce. And so, Mr. and Mrs. Gafril and I decided it would be best she wear the sheitel for the two years they are engaged.”

What was Abishua talking about? Wasn’t Shalom only fifteen?

Peter looked at the man but didn’t question him.

It wasn’t that he had never heard of marriages between people so young, but when he looked at Jerusha, with her kind, big brown eyes, shy smile, and thin little frame, he couldn’t figure it out. She had to be younger than Shalom, so… “Can I ask…? Mr. Abishua, is it polite to ask… Jerusha, how old are you?”

Golda looked at her husband, and he looked at her, and they both looked to Abishua, and then to Jerusha and back to Peter. Finally, Eleazar spoke. “Young man, how old are you?”

“I’m… I’m almost six,” he said shyly, not understanding. What did that have to do with Jerusha’s age?

“Jerusha is almost thirteen. That will make her of marrying age in our culture, so long as there is an appropriate young man for her to marry. We’ve found one. The wedding contract was signed at a big party a few weeks ago,” the man said.

Liraz paused her preparations and came to stand behind Peter, wrapping her arms around his little shoulders in a quick hug before kneeling before him to speak. “Peter, I think what Mr. Gafril is saying is, this is normal for us. In some families, this is the norm, but not everyone who is Jewish marries so young. It is… it is…. It is expected of a young girl to prepare for marriage from the time she is able to help her mother. Jerusha has been preparing for this her whole life, just like I did, and her mother, and our mothers before us. Do you understand?”

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Shannen sped through, followed by the boys, but Warren walked in and slowly shut the door behind him. With a silent smile, he shrugged his shoulders and followed the rest of the older kids into the back yard.

“If they let me, can I go play with them,” Peter asked, no longer interested in this big explanation over a headscarf. If he’d known he was going to have a long talk about it, he wouldn’t have asked about her age.

Liraz nodded, and as Peter turned to leave, he heard Jerusha’s voice for the first time.

“May I go, too, Father… please?”

“You’re too old for these games, and so are Shalom and Shannen. I’m surprised Abishua here is allowing them to indulge. They should be working; helping prepare for Shabbat. It’s less than an hour away now,” the man said.

Sad for the girl, Peter silently made his way through the living room and to the door.

Once outside, he realized he’d lost his urge to play… not to mention he’d gone out the front and the rest of the kids were in the backyard now.

He just wanted everything back to normal. Why did Rosie have to discerpear?

It just wasn’t fair!

Forty Six

Vancouver, Washington… August 30, 2013

Rosemary looked out the window of Justice’s car, still trying to get used to the light. The sunglasses Keith had loaned her helped some, but her eyes still hurt. Cars whizzed by, and she took note of all the places that were still familiar to her as they made their way to talk with a couple of their friends.

Some guy who came through the mirror before she did, and his wife.

Apparently, he’d traveled a much greater distance and longer forward into the future, but she didn’t know anything specific. They thought it would be better if she got the story firsthand, and he, hers.

She didn’t necessarily understand it, but if it would help them out, she figured there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

It was this, or be dead, anyway.

The brothers were in the front, and Eugenie sat in the back with her. It gave her some comfort, having friendly faces and not having to worry about the hassle of interrogators who might want to know how she’d escaped Arthur’s clutches.

Literally.

She had the scratches down her left foot to prove it, and when she’d washed up, the wounded area hurt so badly it had made her want to scream.

She was still shaken up from falling through the mirror, and even more so that she’d jumped time, but all she had to do was look into the eyes of either Morrison brother and she knew they told her the truth.

Besides that, they’d shown her a newspaper and something on Justice’s computer that proved it.

Thank You, God, I jumped to where I knew someone. Thank You for saving me, Lord
, she prayed for the tenth time since she woke up.

Thank You that Justice and Eugenie were there and that they trusted You; thank You that Justice went to the café last night and insisted on staying; thank You that he cared enough to see if I would come out alive.

For the first time in days, she finally felt like a normal person.

Too bad her circumstances weren’t so normal.

She’d have to move soon to another state and change her name. That’s just what she’d have to do, the Morrison’s had said, and she knew it had to be. Eugenie was married now to some man obsessed with her, who she was sure she’d never met.

Not unless he was the mystery lemonade man.

And how could that even be possible?

Eugenie had told her that her husband was also in contact with Arthur, though, and that it sounded like Arthur wanted her dead because he believed she was still alive.

Insisted on it, even, despite that he was….

The car pulled into the driveway of an immaculately painted white house with lots of windows and some aqua-ey, teal-y kind of trim. She wasn’t sure.

Color wasn’t her best thing… but it was pretty.

After they got out of the car, Eugenie and Justice helped her keep her balance as they went to the walkway and up the stairs. A yellow tricycle was on the porch near the double front door, and on its seat sat a teddy bear that looked like he’d seen better days.

Keith knocked, and then rang the bell, then stepped back a distance when footsteps neared the door. Within moments, a plump woman with red-blonde hair opened the door. On her hip was a little girl, and behind her stood an athletic-looking blonde man holding a calico cat.

In the background, she could hear other voices.

“Welcome,” the woman said cheerily. “I’m Paloma, and this,” she said, nodding toward the child a moment on her hip, “is Cherish. Behind me, that’s Edward and our cat, Petunia Grace. The boys are out back with a few others. You must be, um… Justice’s friend,” she said. “We’re so glad you could join us. Come on in, all of you. Have a seat and relax. We’ve got lunch about ready.”

Paloma stepped aside, and Rosemary tentatively followed Eugenie and the Morrisons into the house. Once inside, she glanced around and was glad to see it was less perfect on the inside than the outside. Or was it that, like her, Paloma cleaned only when visitors were coming?

The couch was off-center, and there were lots of artsy pieces scattered about. Very different from the nature meets modern she’d tried for, but like color, decorating wasn’t really her thing, either.

She’d rather sing; or cook. Maybe even paint, as long as she didn’t have to worry what other people thought about it.

Either way, she was thankful she’d be able to meet a few people before being escorted across the state line. She knew she wouldn’t be able to contact anyone from her former life, but at least three of them would still be in her life to one degree or another. And maybe, just maybe, she’d finally come up with a name like she’d been instructed to.

Keith and Justice had explained that because of her unusual circumstances, she wasn’t eligible for Witness Protection, but that they knew of and were part of an undercover agency that did similar work. They already had a plan in the works, and would need help wherever possible.

Already, she’d agreed to having a makeover over here at their friends’ house, since someone they knew did nails, another did hair and mendhi tattoos, and a third was a wardrobe consultant at a local store. Besides that, apparently this Paloma person was a clothing and jewelry designer.

Eugenie had assured her that all of the women mentioned were quick to keep their mouths shut if the wrong people were around, and loyal to the core.

So, here she was.

As if her life hadn’t had enough change lately…

The scent of freshly baked cinnamon bread greeted her, and she appreciatively sniffed. After her time in the basement at Uncle Dabney’s, and the days in the rented trailer in the middle of nowhere, she was so thankful for something that smelled good.

“Everyone, this is Justice and Keith’s friend. And Midge, I believe you know her, too, but…”

One of the women in the yard quickly raised her head from a conversation she was involved with as Paloma spoke, and handed the baby in her arms to the man standing next to her. She looked familiar, but the man with her was unfamiliar.

Was it her husband?

“Girlfriend, I never thought I’d see you again. I was so worried, and somehow I knew… I knew it,” The woman, who she now recognized as Midge as she catapulted herself toward her, said.

Thankful for the hug, as well as another familiar face, Rosemary calmed down some as the woman introduced her around the yard. It turned out the man holding the baby was her sister’s husband, and the baby, her brand-new nephew, just days old.

In total, there were fifteen people there to greet her.
Thank You, God, at least some of them are familiar, and none of them unhappy to see me,
she silently prayed as began to greet them individually.

“Rosie, you remember my sister, Me’chelle, I’m guessing? I know you didn’t know each other well, but…” Midge pointed to the woman who now held the baby and was sitting in the shade of an aspen. The man she’d been introduced to first, Jason, was sitting with her, as well as a toddler girl with large expressive eyes. “So, that’s Charlotte, but we all call her Charlie, at least sometimes, and the baby’s Clayton. Now him… he was a miracle, I tell you.”

A few feet away from her, two Asian ladies stood with a large black woman and a young teenage girl. “This over here is Jasmine, and this is Pier Rose. They’re twins,” Midge continued, pointing to the Asian ladies. Jasmine had her hair in a blonde curls, while Pier Rose had a well-groomed bob. Both wore blue sundresses, Jasmine’s several inches shorter than her sister’s. “They’re going to be doing your nails and wardrobe for the trip,” she said with a smile.

Who am I kidding, Lord? I’ve never had my nails done in my life; not professionally,
Rosemary prayed silently.
Won’t I feel like a fraud, on top of everything else? Maybe the nails aren’t going to be part of the new image, just like they weren’t part of the last one. I just can’t see…

“And this is Tawny, who’ll be doing your hair,” she said, pointing to the larger woman, “and her middle child, Kate.”

They watched a couple more toddlers playing in the yard under Paloma’s watchful eye. “You’ve met Paloma and Cherish; these are Cherish’s older brothers, Duncan and Chosen. Also twins. And I think you’ve met everyone else… if I missed somebody, let me know, ‘cause I’ll totally introduce you or have you introduced.”

Good ol’ Midge, talking a mile a minute when she was nervous. Rosemary looked to her friend again and tears rolled down her face. She opened her arms, and Midge came in for another hug.

“I was so scared this wasn’t real, Rosie. I was so scared, I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to come here today, but I’m so glad… I’m so glad I did. Not only do I get to see my best friend again, but I… I get to see…”

Rosemary smiled at her friend. Of course she knew. She’d been just as terrified… maybe more so: She got to see the man she was in love with again, after who knows how long.

And if for nothing else, this get together was worth it for that.