A Basket of Roses: An Anthology

By Kathryn Rose Wicker

Written over a span of twenty-five years, A Basket Of Roses is a collection of five short stories ranging from adventure fiction to science fiction. These had been entered in writing competitons of various sorts, and modified over the years since the competitions had closed. I am delighted to be able to present them, again, to compete only with one-another.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452099163

Kathryn Rose Wicker

I have been a voracious reader since before I began school at the age of four, attending my paternal Grandmother’s Kindergarten. My parents were divorced when I was ten, and I lived with my paternal grandparents for a time before returning to the parental nests. I graduated from High School and married in 1974. In the years since, I have continued my practice of reading as much as possible, when not attending college (part-time), writing or caring for my “Computer Geekie” husband, our home, and our three (now adult) children.

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© 2011 Kathryn Rose Wicker. All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, or authorized publishers.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/8/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9917-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9916-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010917334

original cover-art

copyright © 2010 by Mary Elizabeth Rosenberg

copyright © 2010 by Keith B. Rosenberg

Printed in the United States of America

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

My Bonnie Annie Laurie

Seattle

Marchaisse

Seattle

Marchaisse

Seattle

Marchaisse

Los Angeles

A Chance Encounter

Empath

The Last Flag

A Minstrel’s Song

New Orleans

Abilene

New Orleans

Contessa

Grand Junction

Grand Junction

Boulder

Boulder County

Monte Vista

Boulder County

Meet The Author

A Basket

of Roses

A breeze rose, hot and cutting. Six-inch gold fringe set a thousand tiny fingers into the sky. The colors fluttered at full extension against a blue sky beginning a display more brilliant and colorful than any sunrise ever seen.

Spectacular solar flare was visible to his naked eye. Stephen knew he was looking at the end of his world. His seared eyes would not see it, he knew.

The last sight his eyes would see, and his brain would know, was the flag floating high above – red and white fought for equal ground, the blue canton, of equal size with her sisters, though turned on her side, boasting a snowy five-pointed star.

~**~

A Basket

of Roses

Dedicated to:

Rose Wicker Nicolls,

my Maternal grandmother’s

Maternal grandmother,

and a yarn-spinner

with a skein of imagination

as big as her heart.

~**~

My Bonnie Annie Laurie

From the corner of her eye the cruise director saw a woman enter Marchaisse’s lobby. She held a suitcase in one hand while hauling the strap of a trunk with the other. The long strap of a carry-all spoiled the line of the lacy jabot-tie crushed beneath it.

Her attention on those passengers demanding her immediate attention, the cruise director continued to monitor the other woman as she started across the lobby, slowly, as if bowed with the weight of her belongings.

‘Why doesn’t she ask the steward for help?’ Judy Reynolds wondered irritably, brushing a stray lock of honeyed hair from eyes the color of the coffee in the cup in front of her.

A placard announcing the evening’s lounge entertainment brought the passenger up short. Many women had chosen to take this cruise specifically because Todd Mason was the featured vocalist.

A thrill of excitement ran up her spine as Judy remembered their brief meeting that morning, as he had come aboard. His music was the sort almost anyone could sing, yet he made it sound extraordinary. His baritone drew women like a magnet, as did his dark good looks. Despite the hounding media, Judy could not recall his name having been linked to anyone’s.

Judy turned back to deal with a particularly demanding passenger. A ripple of comment passed among those still waiting, as she directed the man to the elevator.

Glancing back toward the lobby door, Judy saw the woman in the arms of the assistant purser. Judy also saw the ship’s doctor, Mitchell Wilson, approach the tableau from another direction. Whatever the situation, Doc could handle it. She would doubtless hear all about it, later, if not from Bry, then from Doc.

~**~

Late to assume his post, as usual, Bryan Gillette rushed into the lobby.

Too late, he saw the woman turn from the placard to the door, her expression frightened – or uncertain. He plowed into her, knocking the wind out of her, and her feet from under her.

Bryan caught her, only to be jabbed in the side by the heavy carry-all she had slung across her body.

Over her shoulder, he saw Doc coming. ‘I’ll catch it now.’ Still, better Doc than Captain Stewart.

Graying temples lent Mitchell Wilson an air of dignity he would otherwise have had to cultivate. His uniform fit well, its azure tone matching his eyes, hard to see behind darkened prescription lenses.

Doc offered the young woman an arm.

Disentangling herself from the purser, she stooped, taking the handle of her suitcase into her hand.

No. Doc lifted a hand. One of the stewards hastened over.

Taking a folded paper from the outer flap of her carry-all, Doc skimmed it. As he had thought, it confirmed her reservations.

Cabin six-twelve. he told the steward, indicating the trunk and suitcase and taking the carry-all from her neck.

An expression of dismay crossed her face. But,.. By this time, the steward had disappeared.

Doc turned to her, a questioning look on his face.

Uh, I’m not staying. She tugged at the arm Doc had taken on his own. He covered it with his hand.

You mustn’t let Bryan’s boisterousness distress you. Doc told her firmly. It would be a shame to let this minor incident spoil her cruise. Doc and Bryan exchanged a meaningful glance.

Look, Miss, I’m really sorry. Bryan smiled ruefully. I just wasn’t watching. I’m always running into things, and people. Please don’t cancel on my account. Look, if you want, I’ll … I’ll have the captain put me on KP or something!

She smiled faintly. My decision has nothing to do with this. I should apologize, too. I wasn’t watching, either, Mister ..?

Gillette. Bryan introduced Doc. She nodded acknowledgment.

Now, how do I get my luggage back?

You don’t. Doc replied. She had confirmed reservations, and, in private professional opinion, probably needed the cruise. A member of ship’s crew, he would personally see her to her cabin.

She sighed in weary capitulation. She had planned to spend most of her time in her cabin, anyway.

Doc’s nod dismissed Bryan. The assistant purser had other duties.

He openly studied the woman throughout the silent elevator ride. Chestnut hair was drawn back in a thick plait that fell to her waist, green eyes in an oval face hidden behind glasses thicker than his own. The pale green silk blouse and full, calf-length jade skirt had become rumpled. She looked frail, and bone-weary.

May I have the pleasure of your company for dinner? Doc asked, throwing open her cabin door with a flourish. I’m not taking ‘No’ for an answer. he warned her gently, handing her the key he had taken from the purser’s desk.

Still flustered, she agreed.

Doc added, I should know who it is I’m taking out. The envelope containing her confirmation had not been with the missive.

She blushed. Ah … Rachel Lawrence.

Alright, Rachel, I’ll be back at seven thirty, so be ready.

~**~

Rachel unpacked immediately and had lunch sent in. She had intended to get some work done, but had, instead, fallen asleep, waking at six forty-eight.

Doc approved of the soft gray shift. One plait had become two, twined about her head like a coronet. He waited, smiling, as she collected her shawl, but scowled, as she wore it concealing all but her glasses. It fell aside as she sat down.

Your reservations were for two? Doc had asked Judy to run a quick check on Miss Rachel Lawrence.

Rachel nodded. Allyn had been called away at the last minute. A refund could have been requested, but Rachel preferred to have the double cabin to herself, and saw no reason not to pay for it. I’m not exactly travelling light. she pointed out, but did not tell him how spread out her things were.

Doc agreed, watching her pick at her food. She was not eating enough to keep a finicky two-year old happy.

She declined dessert, and, as they passed the lounge, refused Doc’s invitation to see the show, or to accompany him back-stage. Doc was intrigued. Most women on the cruise would, he thought, have jumped at the chance to see Todd Mason up close and personal.

The wind on her face seemed to refresh her even as their slow stroll exhausted her.

She shivered, despite the warm silver-gray shawl wrapped about her. Doc took her back to her cabin, although it was only a few minutes past ten.

Good-night, Rachel. Sleep well.

Good-night, Mitch.

~**~

Judy Reynolds had been delighted to receive Todd Mason’s invitation to join him for a drink after the show.

One did not wear just anything when in the company of a star. She carefully considered what to wear, deciding eventually on a royal blue silk cocktail dress and matching satin heels.

The smile on his face and in his eyes told her he approved the choice.

Over their drinks and sandwiches she told him of the curious woman.

Todd Mason shrugged it off, at first. He had many fans. There had been a number of women fitting that description in the audience that night.

She decided not to sail. Judy said, and Todd’s practiced nonchalance cracked.

Then, she’s not aboard? He could think of only one person who would leave because he was here. ‘Annie!’ He had been haunted by her for a year.

A vision flashed across his mind of a pig-tailed teenager, and another of the lovely woman she had become. He had regretted, since, that he had not given her an opportunity to explain. But, there had been no answer to his letters and Annie’s housekeeper had made plain that Annie was taking no calls from him.

Doc has a very convincing manner. Judy smiled. She’s on Deck six.

Who is she?

Judy frowned, puzzled by the sudden interest. Bryan had not told her the woman’s name. Perhaps he had not thought to get it; it was like him to be negligent about trifles, like names.

Does it matter? Judy’s gaze was deeply thoughtful.

Todd berated himself. He had a beautiful woman at his table, and a reputation to maintain. His hand traced soft jowls, index finger coming to rest invitingly on her lips. He could feel a mild shudder in response to his touch.

I suppose not. Todd murmured, drawing her toward him.

His arms were strong around her, his mouth warmly sensuous. Their hearts beat a wild counterpoint that left them gasping and dizzy as they drew apart.

The dizziness swamped them as Todd and Judy swirled around the dance floor.

Fans’s envious observation followed them as they careened back to their chairs at last. There was little time to catch their breaths before fan attentions became more active. Todd danced with two older women and several of the younger ones, his eyes smiling at Judy over his partner’s shoulder belying an apparently total attention to each.

He led Judy around the empty dance floor one last time, aware that the band, at least, was ready to call it a night.

He decided it would be best to return to his cabin. Perhaps tomorrow, he would look into the woman behaving so peculiarly. If she were Annie, he owed her a last meeting, if only to say the ‘good-bye’ he had not said, then.

‘Night, Charlie.

Good-night, Mr. Mason. the band-leader returned, signaling the players to pick up their instruments.

Judy wondered why Todd Mason had the reputation of being a ladies’ man. A perfect gentleman, he had departed after a single kiss at her cabin door.

~**~

Doc Wilson smiled as Bryan ran past him, taking his morning constitutional. Doc continued to stroll sedately, ignoring joggers and rope-skippers waiting for the dining room to open for breakfast. He started past the pool, then stopped. Doc moved toward the ladder on the port side, offering Rachel his hand.

It’s dangerous to swim alone. he chided. The life-guard would not be on until later.

Rachel shrugged. She would swim her laps later.

Breakfast?

She shrugged again, pulling the towel protectively about her. Sharing breakfast would be fine, but he would have to wait until she had had time to change into something more appropriate than a bathing suit.

Doc decided he liked the way her suit fit, accentuating firm curves with a hint of soft fullness in the abdomen. It occurred to him that many women boasting such lovely curves would have chosen a two-piece, and not the dark maillot.

He thought it a shame to hide such beautiful hair under a swim cap or in unbecoming styles. Shaken out and flying every-which-way, it was a temptation. A hand reached out to brush it from her face.

Annie? the voice was an incredulous baritone.

Rachel tripped. Doc caught her firmly around the waist, hurrying her to her cabin, somewhat out of breath.

Fifteen minutes. she promised, her eyes bright. He heard the lock click.

~**~

Rachel threw herself on the bed and gave in to her sobs. ‘It isn’t fair!’ She had so much work to do and so little time. Why now?

She cried, as she had not wept in months. Her stern emotional restraint had been one reason Allyn had pressed her to take a cruise. Rachel admitted to herself that the change of scenery might have been of more benefit, under other circumstances. Her instincts had been right, she should have gotten off this ship before it sailed. At least then there would have been a chance to finish her work.

Steeling herself, Rachel sat up, then scrubbed her glasses on the bedspread. That smeared her tears. She shook her head in exasperation.

‘Time to get dressed.’ she told herself.

As she finished, she glanced at things scattered about the large room; her things, pieces of home so far from home. ‘There’s no place like home.’ she thought, swallowing a sudden longing to disperse into the wind like the call of a tern.

~**~

Todd could not believe his luck. Knowing Annie’s fondness for her morning swim, he hoped that, if she were aboard, he would find her in the ship’s pool. He slipped into his trunks and rushed down the corridor, as he had for the past two mornings.

A woman passed through an intersecting corridor, a woman who could only be Annie. He had known her too long to be mistaken. Her name was wrenched from him as the man at her side stroked her face with the same possessive caress he had bestowed upon Judy, and he wondered who the man was. He wore the uniform of a ship’s officer.

The man had hustled her away.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘What’s the use?’ Why did he torment himself trying to see her?

Swallowing his disappointment, Todd lumbered back to his cabin, oblivious to all but that pain.

Their first meeting was as clear in his mind, now, as if it had been one day, and not ten years, in their past…

~**~

Seattle

Todd sat in nervous anticipation. Only the cream of Professor Lawrence’s students would join him for the summer. Sections of the professor’s forty acres had been nomadic camps for Pacific Indians, centuries ago. Relics were to be sought beneath the gnarled roots and sod.

Eleanor Lowell, Professor Lawrence continued, with the third name. As the professor tended to be methodical, the next name would either be his, or he had been passed over. Todd held his breath.

Todd Mason, the professor read several more names, but Todd did not hear them. He was too wrapped up in delight at having been chosen. And, he wasn’t a geology or archaeology major, as the others were.

He