Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
When she got back to Lilac Cottage, she was surprised to see that the holly was still in place; the tree spade had looked powerful enough to rip it out in a single scoop. Instead, she found Mac and Jerry probing gingerly with old-fashioned shovels around the roots of the male holly, the one without berries.
When she asked them about it, McKenzie paused and leaned on his shovel, like a soldier resting on his sword.
"
It
'
d be better to cut through everything but the root ball and leave it to recover in place, and then move it next fall. Any chance you
'
ll agree?
"
He said it with such a pessimistic look on his face that she had to smile.
"
You
'
re making me the meanie again, Mr. McKenzie. I think the sooner the four of us put this trauma behind us,
"
she said, nodding at the hollies,
"
the better off we
'
ll be.
"
To deflect yet another argument, she held up the little blue flower for his inspection.
"
What
'
s this called?
"
"
Scilla,
"
he said briefly.
Jane slipped away to shower and change. When she went out to check on their progress, she found McKenzie sipping coffee from a thermos and Jerry huddled over a bag of Doritos, exactly as if they were at a work site in downtown
Cleveland
.
She thought of Bing and his neighborly invitation to breakfast.
"
Hey, why don
'
t you come on in and warm up?
"
she suggested.
"
I
'
ve got some of Mrs. Adamont
's coffee cake defrosted. A
nd I can make you some hot chocolate, Jerry.
"
It was a one-two punch and it worked; father and son exchanged a silent signal, then McKenzie shrugged and said,
"
All right.
"
"
You
'
ve been busy,
"
he noted politely as they walked through the disassembled rooms to the kitchen. Every one of them was in some stage of progress except for the fireplace room, which Jane was oddly reluctant to change.
"
I took your advice about Billy B.,
"
she said, pleased that McKenzie had more or less complimented her, maybe.
"
He starts midweek. He seems like a nice guy; I hope he
'
s as good as he says he is.
"
"
He is. We reroofed my house together.
"
McKenzie squeezed himself behind Jane
'
s little oak table while Jane brought out serving things and the apricot cake and put a pot of milk on to boil. At Jane
'
s prodding, McKenzie helped himself to a thick slice of the loaf cake. Jerry stuck with his Doritos.
This was a mistake,
was Jane
'
s first thought. The moment had none of the free and easy spontaneity of the breakfast on the morning of the snowstorm. When McKenzie hadn
'
t felt like talking in Bing
'
s kitchen
—
which was
most of the time
—
both Bing and Cissy had been there to help carry the conversational ball. But here? Jane was on her own. She whisked chocolate mix into a mug of steaming milk for Jerry and set it before him.
The subject of Billy B. wound down to a close. McKenzie, predictably, did not offer another in its place.
Okay, fine,
Jane decided.
We
'
ll just cut to the chase.
"
You talked the other day about the rugosa rose on Judith Brightman
'
s grave,
"
she said.
"
I
'
ve been meaning to ask you: How did you know the last name was Brightman? That part of the headstone is missing.
"
"
Now it is; but it didn
'
t used to be,
"
McKenzie said.
"
I grew up next door to that grave. Years ago the stone was in one piece, even though there wasn
'
t much on it:
JUDITH
BRIGHTMAN, 1802—1852.
"
He added thoughtfully,
"
When I was a kid, I used to wonder why there were no words of comfort on it, the way there were on the other gravestones.
"
"
You mean, like on Gramma
'
s, Dad?
'Hold Fast the Good'
?
"
"
That
'
s the kind of thing I mean, right.
"
"
That
'
s called an epitaph,
"
the boy said proudly, jamming his fist in his cellophane bag for the last of the crumbs.
"
So that
'
s all you know about Judith Brightman?
"
Jane asked McKenzie, disappointed.
He gave her a wry smile.
"
Yeah, well, we weren
'
t all that close.
"
"
I
'm sorry. I was just ..
. curious. I
'
d like to know more about her. And the rose.
"
McKenzie glanced at his son, then back at Jane.
"
I think I
'
ve mentioned that the rugosa rose is
not
the rose you
'
re looking for,
"
he said meaningfully.
Plainly, he did not want this conversation to be happening in front of his son. Fine. All he had to do was answer her next question and she
'
d change the subject. Call it conversational blackmail; she didn
'
t care. She needed that information. If nothing else
—
bizarre as it seemed
—
Jane wanted to be able to eliminate Judith Brightman as a suspect.
"
You remember Phillip
'
s dinner party a few weeks ago?
"
she asked casually.
"
All those different versions of the legend of the, ah, rose?
"
In deference to Jerry, she dropped the word
"
cursed.
"
"Well, I was wondering ..
.
"
She saw McKenzie
'
s chin lower, a bad sign, but she swallowed and went on.
"
Do you know which legend was the true one?
"
"
Legends aren
'
t necessarily true.
"
"
All right, then
—
the original one.
"
"
What legend, Dad?
"
"
I repeat. The rugosa on Judith Brightman
'
s grave is
not
the rose of the legend.
"
"
Dad? What legend?
"
"
That
rose
...
"
McKenzie seemed to consider whether to go on. His look was pure hard steel.
"
That rose was in the Quaker Burial Ground.
"
Well, at least it was an answer. Jane didn
'
t know whether she was happy about the information, or disappointed. She hunkered down and shot off one more question.
"
Is it still there?
"
"
I
'
d say to go and see for yourself,
"
McKenzie suggested through clenched teeth
, obviously annoyed
. He stood up abruptly.
"
Jer? You finished? Daylight
'
s burnin
'
.
"
Whether he was finished or not, Jerry knew enough to say yes. He slugged the rest of his hot chocolate and said,
"
Thank you, ma
'
am,
"
and they left. Jane was left staring at the crumbly remains of the apricot cake and wondering why McKenzie was so anxious that his son not hear his version of the Legend of the Cursed Rose.
How horrible could the legend be? Certainly not enough to frighten a ten-year-old. Every boy nowadays knew and probably loved Freddy Kreuger; could the story be any worse than
Nightmare on
Elm Street
?
She sighed and picked off a corner of the coffee cake to nibble. At least she had an end date for poor old Judith, and the apparent location of the actual Cursed Rose. Two brand-new facts.
It had been like pulling two brand-new teeth.
****
Jane spent the next hour or so spackling walls, amazed at how free of pain her shoulder was. Maybe it was because of the earlier long, hot shower. Then again, maybe it was because she was moving ahead on the Judith Brightman investigation. She wasn
'
t being very scientific about controlling her variables.
She took a little break and, on her way to the kitchen, peeked out the front window. Just as she thought: Holly still in the ground, tree spade still to the side. McKenzie and Jerry, shovels in hand, were continuing their slow probe to
China
. But since he wasn
'
t charging her for it, it was none of her business how he moved it.
In the kitchen Jane discovered she was out of coffee. She grabbed her car keys and threw on a jacket, intending to run out to the A&P for a few groceries. After a polite
"
Howzitgoin
'
?
"
to McKenzie, she headed for her car, then paused and turned.
"
I
'
m off to the A&P. Can I get you anything?
"
McKenzie said no thanks, but Jerry had other ideas.
"
Snickers! That
'
s what I want,
"
he said, throwing down his shovel.
"
I have money in my jacket pocket. It
'
s on the tractor seat; I
'
ll get it.
"
"
Hold your horses, Jer,
"
said his father.
"
Aren
'
t you over your quota for junk food today? Your mother
'
s given strict orders
—
"
"
Aw, Dad,
"
the boy said, embarrassed to be treated like a ten-year-old.
"
I
'
m working as hard as any grown-up.
"
"Yeah ... well ..
. okay.
"
Then McKenzie gave Jane a hapless look that said:
Kids.
Jane waited, then watched in horror as Jerry, sprinting for his jacket on the tractor, tripped on his shovel and went flying headlong into the metal tree spade. She saw it so clearly, almost in slow motion, as his face came down on the side of the sharp metal brace. His father sprang to intervene but was too late. After that it was chaos: cries and tears and blood, an unbelievable amount of it, gushing from Jerry
'
s cheek while his father tried simultaneously to soothe the boy
'
s panic and assess the wound.
Jane stood over them both, feeling faint, while Mac whipped out a clean hanky from his back pocket and began wiping away some of the blood from Jerry
'
s face.
"Hold on . .
. let
'
s see what we
've got ..
.
here we go ... well ... I know ..
. I know
..
.
that's not so bad ..
. a cou
pla stitches, maybe not even ..
. you
'
ll be like new.
"
"
Should I call Rescue?
"
Jane asked, bending over them. It never occurred to her that she didn
'
t have a phone.