Bonjour mes amis!
Please forgive my inconsistent updating, as I shall not bore you with details of the flu, camping, hellish biology tests and wardrobe shopping.
Okay, buckle up kiddies, it's a bumpy ride!
My doom is impending. It is Thanksgiving, and all my relatives from this side of Baylor to the next and Jeffery's every living kin are boxed into his spacious manor.
I am blazing mad, I just wanted my one last favorite holiday happy and carefree, but apparently Mother Jane thought this was the ticket.
Currently, Jeffery and I have been practicing having a ball and chain attached to our ankles by being the hostess and host of the hour. The whole two families already have heard of impending nuptuals.
I am laced tightly into a plum satin gown, trimed with black lace on the bodice, flowing from the sleeves ending just above my elbows, and matching little sparkling onyx beads sewn in a delicate design into the lace and on the scalloped skirt hem.
Everyone is spilling out of different rooms. The ladies are gathered in the sun parlor, fanning and simpering. The men are in the billiard room, smoking fine cigars and laughing at crude jokes. The babies are in the nursery, and the older children, not much younger than me, are spinning and tumbling in the cozy south parlor.
"Come man, we won't wait all day!" somebody -I think Jeffery's cousin Simon-, calls out from the billiard room.
I am aching to be away from him, so I nod gracefully, and pretend to head to the ladies parlor, only till out of eye shot. Then, carefully looking around me till all is clear, I hoist up my skirts and run up the carpeted stairs, at the top I head straight, heading to a place I love so.
I enter a sunny yellow nursery to hear an awful wailing. Two nursemaids are rushing around frantically, one trying to man four babies on her own, the other trying to console a screeching infant.
Kicking of my uncomfortable heels, I pad over to the harried nursemaid.
"May I? I put my arms out, smiling sweetly. The bewildered woman quickly hands over the little child, as she is near tears, I suggest a quick rest, and she staggers out.
I leave the play room and the toys and enter the little resting room. The little babe is hysterical, it has little need for scolding, so I gently pace back and forth, bouncing it and cooing to it all the while.
"Yes, yes. You just tell auntie all about it!" I coo, smiling at what I presume to be some relation. I have high doubts I am her actual auntie, but she cares little.
She is a sweet tiny baby, surely around four months, with round sea blue eyes and honey golden little wisps of hair.
Through my cajoling and administrations, ever so slowly, the wailing slows into little more than a whine, then a few whimpering hiccoughs. Her little mouth untwists out of its scowl, and she yanks my hair, quickly bored with being comforted.
She is quite heavy for me, so I sink to my knees, leaning her against me while sitting Indian style. I set her up to see all of her little world, and slowly I point out everything, naming it, and desperate to keep her entertained, I recite all colors and shapes known to man, then animals, till I get to duck, and she is off in the land of nod.
I turn my head to the door to call for a maid, but instead nearly jump out of my skin.
Jeffery is leaning against the door, having apparently snuck in and closed it.
"Beautiful." he mutters under his breath, striding over to me.
"You could of helped me!" I scold, whispering angrily.
"And miss this view?" He whispers breathily, grinning.
Before I can move he puts one finger over my lips, then bending over scoops up the baby gently. In two large steps, he is at a cradle, gently placing her in. She stirs, wriggling her little hands, but settles quickly.
He is back at my side in a second, reaching for my hand and helping me up.
We tiptoe out of the adjoined nursery, till we reach the hall.
I lean against the wall, sinking down against it. Sighing, Jeff sits down too against the wall, watching me.
"What?" I sigh, peeling open one eyelid to glance at him peripherally.
"Nothing." He smirks, acting as if he knows something monumental I don't.
"Fine by me." I say calmly, closing my eyes, breathing slowly.
"Alright! Do you really want to know?" He grins, and he sounds like a proud school boy.
"Sure thing!" I say carelessly, waving for him to continue.
"Well, it is.. that ... I love..." He pauses for dramatic effect and looks deeply into my eyes.
"Yes?" I say nervously, chiding him on. My heart is racing. He can't say something stupid like loving me, can he?
"I love.. Thanksgiving!" he grins sardonically, watching my reaction.
"Damn it! That isn't funny!" I say, jumping up and shaking my hand out of his, my breathing fast.
"Oh my! What?" He gasps, pretending to be affronted. "Did you thing I would say something else love?" He is eating this up.
"Oh shut up!" I hiss, stalking off ahead down the hall.
"That.." I turn around to listen to him. He is doubled over laughing quite hard. "Was quite -here he gasps from laughing so hard- hilarious!" he finishes, his hand on his side.
"Watch your back Arlington!" I call angrily over my shoulder, only to hear him laugh harder as I stomp off.
The problem with stomping off in rather huge manors is getting lost. Soon I am just that, wandering through halls looking little used.
Finally, frustrated with my progress, I decide to open the next door I come upon so that perhaps I may be lead into another hall.
I push open a large oak door. It has been used fairly recently, as it swings open freely.
Apparently the room has been used too. It is dim, so I stumble in, trying to let my eyes adjust. Suddenly, it is no longer so dim. I see plenty of creamy white canvases, and a large array of charcoal chunks scattered over a table.
Easels are placed everywhere, showcasing a artists work. It is dimly lit, few small windows adorn the simple room. It is vast and echoing, with light wooden polished floors and simple gray walls.
I planned to have continued and moved on, but my eye caught way of a canvas. In it is a girl. She is beautiful, her face simple, her heart face adorned with blushing cheeks, a little smirk placed at her full lips. The picture is so life like and filled with every detail. Every shade is perfect, amazing for a simple charcoal, but something is wrong about her.
Her eyes. The are large and pretty, but they are hollow, almost sad, devoid of much apparent feeling. She is so familiar.
Gazing closely at the print, I jump back with a start. I know who the lost girl on the canvas is.
Me.
Unlikely Rose
A/N: Well that was unexpected. I hope.
Thank you past, present, and future reviewers! The story's fate lies in your hands!
Peace out. Please review.