Page 14 of Curse of Immortality
Rose wondered about her brother’s reserved attitude toward her and wished things had been different between them. But despite that not being the case, she wasn’t lonely. She had her parents, who were kind and loving, and she had her best friend, Anne, who lived in the village.
Anne was a few years younger and the daughter of the baker in town. Growing up, the girls had become close friends despite how different their families were. One afternoon in early spring Rose finished work early and headed into town to see her friend.
In many ways, Anne and Rose looked much alike, with their brown hair and eyes, but Rose was well aware that Anne’s symmetrical features and well-shaped eyebrows and lips made her much more attractive.
Once, Rose had complained to her mother that she’d been unlucky in her heredity, getting the worst from each of her parents while John got the best. Her mother had replied that the most amazing trees in the forest weren’t those that were most symmetrical and pretty. “The most beautiful ones, in my eyes, are those that generously provide a safe home for birds, squirrels, and other animals. Especially those that are so deeply rooted that even though a storm broke off branches and made new ones pop out in odd places the tree didn’t fall. They may not be symmetrical, but they are by far the most beautiful because of their strength and greatness. It’s the same with people, honey, and to me, you’ll always be beautiful.”
One afternoon when Rose came to visit Anne, she found her hanging up sheets outside her house. Instantly, Rose was hit by the sad state of her friend, who had red-rimmed eyes with dark circles under them. As soon as she saw Rose, Anne’s drooping lips quivered.
“What’s wrong?” Rose asked and held Anne, who threw herself into a hug.
“It’s my mum. She’s sick. She’s been coughing for four days straight and this morning I found bloodstains on her sheets.” Anne’s voice was brittle. “That’s why I’m washing them.”
With her brows lowered, Rose rubbed Anne’s back. “I’m so sorry. I can tell that you’re exhausted. Has anyone else in your family shown symptoms?”
Looking back at the small house behind the bakery, Anne shook her head. “No. The little ones are fine for now and my father has always been an ox of a man. It’s just that with my mother down, Lola and I are left with all the housework.”
“Here, I’ll help you.” Rose bent down and grabbed a wet pillowcase to hang it up for drying.
“It’s a good thing that you and your family never seem to get sick,” Anne pointed out. “Even that time I had the chickenpox you didn’t get it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. My dad had a bad case of pneumonia last year,” Rose said and felt bad about lying.
“How’s your brother doing?” Anne asked and picked up the empty basket to put the clothes in.
“John? Well, he’s good, I suppose. I haven’t asked him recently. You know he doesn’t speak to me unless it’s necessary. My mother and father are good as well. All in good health.” Although Rose had answered, she had missed the small spark of love in Anne’s eyes when she spoke John’s name.
"I need to get water.” With a tired gaze, Anne looked at a large jug made of burned clay that stood close to the door.
“We’ll do it together,” Rose offered and went to pick up the jug.
The two young women walked through the village passing people they knew. The dirt roads were still a bit sticky from the rain that morning, making it impossible to avoid mud on their shoes. The smell of horse manure and urine assaulted Rose’s sharp senses when she steered around a fresh pile. She couldn’t wait to get out of her shoes that she only ever wore around humans.
Despite Rose’s attempts to cheer Anne up, none of the usual subjects of chatting and gossiping got her attention.
Turning her head, Rose looked into the eyes of her friend. “You’re really worried about your mum, aren’t you?”
Anne stopped to let a man on a horse pass. “What if she dies? I’m scared someone cast a curse of bad luck on my family. Last month my father couldn’t get flour for two days and my little sister tripped and broke a tooth on Friday.”
Rose stopped walking and took her friend's hands. “Anne. Not you too. There’s no such thing as curses. People get sick but that’s normal. Let’s hope your mother’s cough isn’t contagious. How are you feeling?” Without asking, Rose felt her friend’s forehead with the back of her hand but there was no indication of a fever.
“I feel alright. But I’m young so I probably won’t get it.”
Rose didn’t tell her tired friend that if that were the case, no children would ever die. Taking her friend’s hand, she suggested, “You should come with me to my house, I might have something that could keep you from getting sick.”
There was a moment of hesitation from Anne, who looked back toward her home. “I need to get back to check on my mum.”
“We’ll walk fast, Anne. I just really don’t want you going back inside without a mixture of herbs that will strengthen your lungs.”
It was rare that Anne came to Rose’s home, and only a few times had she been inside. With all the herbs and natural remedies inside the Nashes’ home, a human could become suspicious and quickly jump to conclusions. That’s why the Nash family had long ago made a rule of no human visitors unless necessary. But Rose was so focused on protecting her friend from whatever disease that had her mother coughing up blood from her lungs, that she didn’t stop to think. No one was home to remind Rose that it was best if humans didn’t see all the bundles of dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling. Or the shelves full of bottles and jars that Rose went straight for, letting her right index finger run over each bottle before she stopped abruptly. Fishing out the small flask with purple contents from behind other bottles she gave it to Anne, who watched the whole thing in confusion.
“Drink this,” Rose instructed.
Anne looked unsure but when Rose gently pushed her hands with the bottle in them towards her lips, she chose to trust her friend and chugged down the contents. The sourness bit Anne’s tongue, causing her face to scrunch up. “What was that?”
Rose didn’t answer but took the bottle and said, “Stick out your tongue.”
When Rose saw the bluish discoloring on Anne’s tongue her fear that her best friend had been infected was confirmed. Thoughts spiraled as she went over all the potions she knew in her mind. Rose had been a healer long enough never to take a sickness lightly, especially not one that made you cough up blood; she knew she had to act quickly to save her best friend and her family.
