The Thorn (The Rose Trilogy) by Beverly Lewis

Author:Beverly Lewis [Lewis, Beverly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-08-13T01:46:00+00:00

As Rose finally arrived at the old Browning house, she looked around the driveway. There was no sign of Mr. Browning's car. Interesting, she thought, wondering how long he might be gone.

Quickly, she walked to the front door and knocked. She thought she heard movement inside, in the kitchen, but when no one came, she knocked harder. She waited, then went to one of the windows and peered in, cupping her hands on the glass. But she did not see Mr. Browning or his chair positioned in the usual spot.

Wonderful-gut, she thought, realizing she'd come on the ideal day. "Yoo-hoo, anybody home?" she called, tapping now on the windowpane.

To her great surprise, she saw a young woman with blond hair cut like an Amish boy's. The girl, who was surely in her late teens, pushed her chair back from the table and got up, swaying slowly back and forth. Her azure blue eyes were wide, like she wasn't sure what to do.

"Hullo?" Rose called again, knocking more gently this time. "Can ya come to the door? I'm Mr. Browning's housekeeper."

But the girl shook her head repeatedly and rubbed her fists on her eyes, like a little child might.

"No need to cry," she said through the glass.

The tomboyish young woman stared back, shaking her head in odd, jerky motions.

"I won't hurt you," Rose told her.

The girl just stood there, motionless now, her big eyes blinking. And now Rose noticed a slight resemblance between the girl and Mr. Browning. Was this his daughter?

"It's all right, honest," Rose said softly, leaning her face closer to the glass.

The girl made a frightened sound, then scampered off. Rose was mystified at the way she stumbled so awkwardly from the kitchen to the stairs, reaching out to balance herself along the wall before grabbing for the banister. Is she sick - dizzy, maybe?

Rose went to the door again and tried the knob, but it was locked. Still baffled, she walked around the side of the house to the back door, thinking it might be open instead. It, too, was locked.

So someone is living upstairs. She inched away and headed out to the lane now, toward the road. When Rose was halfway down the short stretch between the house and the road, she turned back and saw the same girl at a dormer window on the third floor.

Why the attic?

She waved to the anxious girl and felt a wave of sadness, then great hesitation. "I'm goin' to help you, little bird ... whatever's wrong," she whispered. "I promise."

To Rose's amazement, the girl raised her hand in a half wave and held it against the windowpane for a moment, then slid it slowly down, as if she yearned to be made free.

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