The Chronicles of Marr-nia (Short Stories Starring Barbara Marr) by Cantwell Karen

Author:Cantwell, Karen [Cantwell, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Short Stories
Published: 2010-10-20T04:00:00+00:00

BONUS SHORT STORY:

“The Recollections of Rosabelle Raines”

By Karen Cantwell

This short story was originally published in the mystery anthology,

Chesapeake Crimes: They Had it Comin’

If you enjoy this story, be on the lookout in 2011 for the novella,

The Many Lives of Rosabelle Raines

“The Recollections of Rosabelle Raines”

Rosabelle Raines had lived at least a thousand lives, and much to her dismay, she could recall them all.

Lying on the cold, winter ground, Rosabelle rubbed her aching eyes while she recovered from the most recent incident. Some wisps of her fine, ebony hair had slipped from their silk netting, falling over her face.

“Rosa,” whispered her sister, Flora. “Are you with me?”

Drained of energy, Rosabelle moaned, but would be unable to speak for a minute or more.

“Does this happen often?” The man she heard speaking appeared as a blur at the end of her tunneled vision. He seemed to hover miles away, but in reality, his warm face was nearly touching hers. She could smell his breath – a touch of ale, she thought, and possibly some corned beef. She detested corned beef.

“She . . . she has . . . fainting spells.” Flora offered a worried, tentative explanation. Weaker in spirit than Rosabelle, she was badly affected by her sister’s spells. They gave Flora such distress that she would suffer stomach maladies for many days after.

“We should get her to a doctor,” the man urged.

“No!” Rosabelle shouted, her voice returning just in time. Rosabelle found herself sitting upright, and the man responsible for her condition was no longer a distant blur. Pleasing to her eyes, he was fair of skin and possessed a head of enviously thick hair the color of summer wheat. In his left hand he clutched a newspaper and a stovepipe hat made of a fine silk that belied his humble station. Perhaps the hat was a tribute to the late President Lincoln. Rosabelle might not care for his corned beef breath, but she would consider a person of good spirit if he revered a man the likes of Mr. Lincoln. Not a popular sentiment for a woman from the South, Rosabelle knew, but she did not often subscribe to opinions just because they were popular.

“I have no need for a doctor, sir. A brisk walk in the fresh air and some tea at our destination will be the only medicine I need.” She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Flora, could you help me to my feet please?” Rosabelle placed a hand in the shallow snow to give her some leverage, while holding the other up for her sister’s assistance.

“Here, let me help.” Eli Witherspoon, the young man who had touched Rosabelle’s hand by way of introduction just moments earlier, was about to touch her again by placing his own hand under her back as support in her attempt to stand.

Signaling him to keep his distance, Rosabelle rebuffed his offer promptly. “No! You have done enough.” Stuttering a moment on her words, she quickly corrected herself. “What I mean to say is you are too kind.

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