Page 10 of Curse of Immortality
Maeve lit up and stepped closer, but Rose pulled her back and answered him. It frustrated both girls to miss out on an opportunity to talk to the young man when their minds were full of questions.
With twelve plums in return for his bottle of cider, the young man sent a last shy smile toward both Althea and Maeve before walking back to his father.
“He looked nice,” Althea said but only received a warning glance from Rose.
Rose was tempted to tell the girls that it was her childhood friend whom she had loved and trusted that had one day turned against her and caused her to lose everything. But she had kept that secret from them so far because there was no need to speak ill of their mother, Anne.
For a moment, Rose got lost in dreadful memories from the night she fled from the angry mob and her ancestral home burned down. Her parents had been killed because of Anne’s betrayal. It was a wicked twist of destiny that Anne believed she’d lost her daughters in a fire and now they lived under Rose’s protection.
“Of course, I’ll be happy to carry them for you.”
Rose snapped out of her sad memories when an old, frail-looking woman handed Althea coins for the produce she needed.
“Aunt Rose, you don’t mind, do you?”
“Pardon?” Rose wasn’t sure what Althea was asking her.
“This lady asked for my help carrying her basket to her house. It’s too heavy for her.” Althea was looking at Rose, who felt torn. The old woman needed the help as she was moving slowly with a walking stick to support her. But letting Althea walk through town alone wouldn’t do, and neither would leaving the girls in the marketplace by themselves work.
“It’s not far,” the old woman said and gave a smile that revealed a missing front tooth.
Althea picked up the woman’s basket, which was heavily loaded with rhubarb, onions, potatoes, and apples. Smiling, she said, “Lead the way.”
“I can take the basket,” Maeve offered, clearly eager to venture off and see more of the town.
Picking the lesser of two evils, Rose declared, “No, l will do it. You two will stay here. Don’t go anywhere.”
Walking away from the girls made Rose feel like she was being stretched too thin. She kept looking over her shoulder until the old lady led her down a street and away from the town square.
It should have been a short walk, but the old woman was talkative and painfully slow. Once they reached her house, she asked Rose for the kindness of carrying the basket inside and unpacking it. Despite her suspicion and lack of trust in humans, Rose was a kind soul, and it was in her nature to help.
“It’s no fun getting old,” the old woman said and struggled to lift her feet over the tall doorstep. “I used to be strong like you. Had fourteen babes in my time, but sickness took eight of them in one cursed winter.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Rose said with deep-felt empathy. Losing family was something she could relate to and with her frequent nightmares of losing Althea and Maeve, she felt awful for the old woman who had survived eight of her children.
“You have beautiful daughters.”
“Thank you,” Rose uttered and didn’t tell the woman that she was Althea and Maeve’s aunt and not their mother.
“My son is kind enough to let me live here with him and his sons. They all work at the mine. I try to cook for them and keep the house, but with my hands it’s difficult.” The old woman sank to a chair and looked at her hands, which were swollen and deformed with contractures making her fingers close. Shutting her eyes for a brief second, Rose tried to tell herself that it was too dangerous to help, but the healer in her was tortured for not being able to ease the woman’s pain. After unpacking the basket, she walked over and kneeled next to the woman.
“My grandmother used to have hands like yours. She said it helped her to feel the heat from a friend’s hands. Would you like me to give you some of my heat?”
The woman sighed. “That’s kind of you, but I’m not cold. Just in constant pain.” Her gaze fell to Rose’s hands. “What I wouldn’t give to have young hands like yours again.” Reaching out she took Rose’s hands in hers.
The heat started immediately as Rose felt the rheumatoid nodules on the old woman’s hand. Easing suffering in others was what she was born to do.
But the old woman let go of her hands and sighed. “Oh, don’t you bother soothing an old woman. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
Getting up from the floor, Rose stepped back. “Will you be all right?”
The woman nodded and raised a hand in a small wave. “Thank you for your kindness.”
At the market square, the brewer’s son, Marcus, had taken the opportunity to go and talk to Althea and Maeve now that Rose was gone.
“I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new in this area?”
“We’re just visiting our aunt,” Althea said, sticking to the story Rose had asked them to use.
