Buried Thorns

By Johnnie Browder Young

Mystery has plagued Roses life since Wilson died. Her beautiful roses are being tampered with and often uprooted. Branches and thorns are buried deep into dangerous holes lining her well-kept fence.

Someone is searching for something in Roses yard, and leaving subtle clues. When there is no one to suspect, the police are called. A slow cynical response leaves her to wonder what they know. Their approach is to make her feel her problems are small. This angers Rose and gets their full attention. A widows fury hath no charm. Maybe now she needs help from a friend that can be trusted. A new direction in life can come in surprising ways. Maybe not a nine-to-five, but a livelihood that brings fulfillment.

There are some things in life not controlled by age. Career, happiness, and most of all romance. Come along with Rose and enjoy the happenings in her life that you cannot anticipate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491702543

Johnnie Browder Young

Johnnie Browder Young lives in Akron, Ohio with her husband of 66 years. They have one daughter. She has previously published two other books, The Long Gravel Road (2006) and They Paved Holly Road (2008). In addition to writing, Johnnie interests include painting, crafts, and gardening. In her younger years, Johnnie was a Rosie the Riveter and also enjoyed modeling.

Book preview

ONE

The wind had shifted and the trees were making bewitching shadowy pictures on Rose’s paint pallet. The twisted dense bittersweet spiraled its way down the fence, giving her little protection. She loved painting in the early morning when only the earth worms were coming out to lie in the warm sun. This morning was so quiet she almost felt lonely. For a moment, she closed her eyes and stretched her fingers. She saw a large dark shadow fall across her pallet the moment her eyes were opened. She turned quickly, knocking her warm sweater to the ground. When she reached to retrieve it from the dirt, she saw the grasses at the edge of the fence were swaying. Her chair was now shifting in the loose soil. For many months the old unused garden had been packed and crusty. Now it was soft and spongy as though it had been raked or kicked about.

As she continued to paint, her tummy started to rumble. A quick cup of coffee and a couple vitamins is not a healthy way to start the day and she knew that. There were days she did not take time for a proper sit down meal.

Once again her chair shifted in the dirt. She stood quickly, moving the chair about until it was level. Something caught her eye. Is that a shoe print? She stepped into the print with her seven and one half shoe. Indeed it was a print. A man’s shoe print. A large man.

While closing her easel and putting away her paints, her eyes scanned her beautiful back yard. She tried very hard to keep it just the way Wilson wanted it to look. Sometimes she had to have a little help. As she walked to the back door, once more she looked back to Wilson’s old garden where she had been sitting. She forgot to latch the gate. Oh well, she thought, I’ll do that later.

She prepared a bowl of cereal and a piece of raisin toast and two cups of coffee. After enjoying that, she decided to have a small glass of orange juice. After sipping on the juice, she closed her eyes and many thoughts passed through her mind.

Wilson reached across the table, gently touching her cheek, running one finger to her chin as he often did, then tapped her nose while showing a sly smile.

Rose, you are a beautiful woman, so stately and regal. You are also very talented. Don’t ever stop painting. Promise me that.

She touched her cheek as she squeezed her eyes tightly, then quickly opened them. Of course, that was just a memory and she knew that.

She loved to hold dear the good things that happened when Wilson was alive. He was never free with his compliments so she treasured those moments. He was a kind, quiet man and not much of a conversationalist. Rose laughed and joked easily and often. Wilson did not. Yes, they had been very different but happy and in love until the day he died.

They had just celebrated their thirtieth anniversary when Wilson became ill. Rose had now been alone three years.

The saddest day in their lives was the day their little son died. They had been married seven years when Randall was born. Wilson wanted him named after his favorite uncle whom he admired so very much. He said his son would always be known as Randall, just as he was always referred to as Wilson. He detested nicknames. If anyone called him Willy he would never acknowledge them. If anyone called his son Randy, he would quickly correct them, sometimes in an ungracious way.

Little Randall lived to be three years of age and brought real joy to their lives. Wilson loved to take pictures of Randall and did so to the excess. Rose would often say, Please Wilson, let the child play. Wilson was obsessive about so many things that Rose tried to ignore, but this bothered her most of all. Well, maybe not most of all. He was very worried that Randall would pick up a germ. He watched closely to make sure he never put his fingers in his mouth. Hand washing was constant. Wilson often spoke about how clean his uncle was about himself and his home. As a child, Wilson’s hands were smacked if he put fingers too close to his mouth. Several things were told to Rose which made her think his uncle was a strange man. She never had the chance to meet him.

After Randall’s death, Wilson changed rapidly. He became sullen and withdrawn. He quit the job he held since before their marriage. He had been an insurance agent and always enjoyed his work. Rose tried to get him to talk about why the sudden need to quit. He would only say, I had to talk to people too much. Without hesitating, he applied for a position at a bank and was hired immediately. He seemed to adjust ably and got along fully with all the employees as well as the patrons. He still had to talk to people, so his excuse made no sense to Rose. She chose to not press the subject further. He continued to work at the bank until his death.

She took her breakfast dishes to the sink and reached to turn on her small kitchen television. As she did so, there was a glimpse of something dark and low to the ground moving slowly along the fence. She watched a few more minutes. Oh well, maybe it was a cat. Just something else to keep me wondering.

TWO

Rose had been a gardener as well as a painter most of her adult life, but painting always came first. Wilson loved to garden so she started helping him and grew to love it even more. They often disagreed about where to plant and how deep to plant. Rose would often say, Wilson, you are planting much too deep, and he was. He would say, Go paint, Rose. I’ll plant. So she would.

After Wilson died, she painted daily. Maybe it was mostly to fill time. She called this her dark period. Even her friends noticed a change in her style. They were still lovely paintings, but just very different. Slowly she came back to her bright, sunny, happy style. There were days she could hardly wait for the sun to come up. She would take her easel and move about the yard until she found just the right spot and light. But best of all, she loved to sit in Wilson’s old garden. She could get a good view of the beautiful trees that lined the street. She felt safe and apart from the world, painting behind the fence and vines. She could stay there for hours, but she did have other chores to attend to. She had a house to care for and it was now too large for one alone. It was just right for three was her thought, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

The ground in the old garden was now rough and lumpy. Vegetables had not been planted there for years. Rose would often take the rake and try to smooth the mounds so her easel would sit straight. She did not have the strength to care for a large garden so she chose to have a small herb garden and a rose garden. She also loved to paint her beautiful roses, especially her Lady Pink rose. They were her prize possessions. They took a tremendous amount of time and care, but she didn’t mind. Some were very thirsty plants and some would tolerate a lot of sun and heat. They were all worth every minute of her time, so she thought. Wilson did not. He thought they were lovely, but too much work. He would often laugh at her as he watched her feed, dead head, and spray. He said she spent more time on one rose than he did in his whole garden. Of course, that was not true. He was very proud of her when she would bring them inside and then paint the arrangement that she meticulously put together. That he admired greatly, and told her so.

Rose would often find him in her painting room, just standing quietly staring at her paintings. Many times she would pause and watch him because he seemed to be lost in his thoughts. That all seemed very odd, but she said nothing. She was just happy he was proud of her and her work.

There was one painting especially that he seemed to have an affixation with. When she saw him staring at the picture and asking if that was his favorite, it startled him, making him nervous.

No, yes, I guess it is.

It seemed to anger him like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She tried to be careful and not surprise him, still she wondered why he was so embarrassed. Why just that one picture? Why did he not want to talk about the painting?

Oh well, forget it Rose. You were a secretary, not a clairvoyant.

And indeed she had been a secretary for several years. She worked before she was married, then seven years before Randall was born. As soon as Wilson was told she was carrying a son, he insisted she quit working. It was not easy for Rose to go against Wilson’s demands, but this was one time she chose to have her way.

She had an easy pregnancy, so why not work. Wilson threw many arguments at her, but Rose stood her ground to the pleasure of everyone at work. They all got along so well and she always came home happy. At least Wilson did acknowledge that.

A scraping noise on the side of the house broke her thoughts. Before she could walk to the south window she heard something hit the fence. Instead of looking out the window, she drew back and stood frozen.

In the three years that Rose has been alone, too many strange occurrences have kept her edgy. Strange noises are more frequent. At first she thought maybe it was because it had been years since she had been alone. Now she isn’t sure. Mumbling to herself, I know what I hear when I hear it and it is not my imagination. Slowly she pulled back the curtain. She saw nothing but her own reflection.

THREE

Friend. Confidant, soul mate, well-wisher, accomplice, bosom buddy, and her name was Koti Dieter. She was a mite of a woman with an Irish brogue and a playful lilt in her voice. Rose and Koti and been friends for many years. They had such good times together. Even though they each had different interests, that made their time together more interesting. They had so much to talk about.

Koti worried about Rose because she did not have a husband, children, or even a dog. Koti’s husband died several years ago but she had two children and a dog and they were all very attentive. Her son, Collin, lived and worked in Alaska. Keri was her lovely, sweet daughter and she worked at a local radio station. Rose watched the kids grow into beautiful, responsible adults. She loved them as if they were her own.

Rose, I’m telling you again. You need a dog. That was Koti’s mantra. One would be so much company for you.

But I’m not lonely.

I know that’s always your reply, but maybe you need protection. Rose would give her a smile hoping that would end the subject. Not so.

Rose, guess what? There was so much enthusiasm in her Irish voice. Please Rose, hear me out. We have just the perfect dog for you. Really we do.

But I don’t need a dog. Really, really, I don’t Koti, but thanks anyway.

Please Rose, let me tell you about him. This dog is so special. She stopped, coughed a little, took a deep breath, then continued.

You know I told you Keri’s dog had a litter and all but one is female. I want you to have the male.

But Koti, interrupted Rose, if I ever get a dog, I would want a female.

Koti continued to cough and Rose could tell she was covering her mouth and swallowing, trying very hard to speak in a normal voice.

Stop a moment Koti and get a sip of water. I’ll wait.

She could hear the water running. Now and again she could hear a convulsive outburst of coughing. Rose knew it was painful for her and this had been going on much too long.

Please Rose, you must hear this and please do not laugh. This dog is so special. He has a very strange bark that is so different from the females.

Koti paused, breathing deeply.

Rose, are you listening?

Yes, Koti, I’m listening, with a snicker in her voice.

Again Koti coughed, cleared her voice, then continued.

Rose, when this dog barks it sounds as though he is talking. He says two words. Her voice went up two octaves and Rose could hear the excitement in her dear friend’s voice. The two words are so plain. Really they are. Rose, really. Cough. Do you believe me?

Now Rose had to laugh. Yes, yes. Of course I believe you. Do you want to tell me the two words that he likes to say?

It sounds like he is saying rock-go. It’s a very deep, loud bark. I would love for you to hear him, and Rose he is so pretty. Will you see him sometime, Rose? Will you? You won’t be sorry, I promise. I’ll bring him over. Just say the word.

Her begging, in a charming sweet lyric, was music to Rose’s ears.

I’m sure he’s a sweet dog, Koti, and I would love to see him sometime, with a smirk in her voice, and hear him talk.

Koti knew all this sounded silly to Rose. You’ll be surprised, Rose Day. Just you wait and see. Keri said in one more week they can take him from his mother. I’ll bring him to meet you, okay?

Sure, that’s fine, hoping the subject was closed. Not so. It was just beginning.

FOUR

It was a cool morning. Rose glanced up at the calendar, thinking today Koti will be here. She had several things on her to do list. First she ground fresh coffee. Then she had cereal while reading the morning paper. Her concentration wavered.

If I make a stew, I’m sure Koti will stay for dinner. She quickly browned her stew meat, then ran the sweeper, dusted her tables, and fluffed all the toss pillows. When all the stew ingredients were slowly simmering, she sat with another cup of coffee, just thinking and planning.

I think we will have fruit for dessert, but now I think I shall paint a while.

Even though it was a cool day, the sun was bright and warming. Rose decided to paint out by her rose garden. It was so quiet and peaceful except for a few chirping birds. For a few moments she just sat looking around. She saw a dog running free down the road. It stopped when it spotted Rose. For a few moments they just looked at each other with curiosity. Then the dog slowly walked away as if to know he should not be here. Rose kept her eyes on the stray until it was out of sight.

She started painting. She knew what she saw but could she paint it well? Animal painting had not been her interest. Maybe she would just paint an animation. No, that was not her style.

The sun went behind the clouds and Rose reached for her sweater that she had tossed on the back of her chair. As she turned, she saw the shrubbery moving on the neighbor’s yard. Over the years, it had grown very thick and was now leaning and poking through the fence that Wilson had erected. They had always loved the fact that it served as a wall to hide the garden. At this moment, Rose wished she could see what was on the other side of the fence. She pulled her sweater a little tighter. Suddenly she felt chilled. Her painting was not to her liking so she decided to go in and get ready for Koti. As she gathered her equipment together she heard a large twig snapping. She wanted ever so badly to part the shrubs to see what was making the noise. Fear of what she might see held her back. Her next thought was ‘go inside Rose and mind your own business’ and in double time that is just what she did.

The table was set, candles lit, and the coffee was dripping. Rose loved to set a pretty table, even though she now had very few dinner guests. When Wilson was living and they were a young couple, they entertained a lot, mostly because of Rose’s insistence.

Just as she folded the last napkin, she saw Koti’s car turning into the driveway. Rose felt excitement. Was it because she was having a dinner guest or because she was anxious to see a dog? A dog? What is wrong with me? I don’t want a dog.

Koti placed a large bag on the kitchen floor, then gave Rose a quick hug.

I’ll be right back. And with that she turned and scurried back to her van. She reached into a crate, fastened a lead on the puppy’s collar, then lifted him down. He pulled on the lead as Koti held tightly. When they reached the porch, Koti let him go free. He ran and jumped and sniffed and grabbed his toy. He bellowed out a bark like no one has ever heard, especially Rose. They both laughed like little girls while the puppy ran and played.

Koti was watching Rose’s expressive face. Well, what do you think about him?

I think he’s a beautiful dog. What did you name him?

Rose, my dear friend, I want you to name him.

Rose raised up both hands in protest. No, no, not me. It’s your dog. You name him.

Koti ignored that statement. While you finish your dinner, I’ll get him situated.

With that, out the door she went. She came back with a crate and puppy toys. She placed him in the crate and gave him a treat. She walked to the bathroom, washed her hands, came back, and sat down at the dinner table.

She looked at Rose and smiled.

Rose looked into Koti’s smiling eyes.

Now aren’t you the sly one?

Oh Rose, you will love him. I know you will. He will be so much company for you.

And work, said Rose.

The puppy slept soundly while the friends talked, laughed, and enjoyed a nice dinner.

Rose, I feel you are keeping secrets from me. Is there something you want to tell me?

Rose looked startled.

Come on, friend. Fess up.

But Koti, I don’t know what you mean. I don’t keep secrets from you. Don’t you know you are my sounding board?

Koti cleared her throat. Took a sip of water. She coughed a couple times and took another sip of water.

Rose picked up her tongs and placed two lemon slices in Koti’s water.

Now my friend, what is this secret you think I am keeping from you?

The smile was now gone from Koti’s face. Rose? She took a deep breath and coughed again. When I was coming down your street, I saw a man leaving your front porch and walking quickly up the sidewalk. I slowed down as he turned and looked at me. Did anyone ring your bell?

Rose was shaking her head no.

Could you describe him? Koti answered quickly. Yes, I can. If I could paint like you, I know I could paint him. It’s clear in my mind exactly what he looked like. He was a nice looking man and he wore a hat.

Now her dark eyes were sparkling as she went into detail. Rose took it all in fully. She now felt she could paint this man that Koti saw for only a couple minutes.

The shadow falling across her painting was still on Rose’s mind so she told Koti what happened. Now the sighting of a strange man on her porch really gave her pause.

You know Koti, since Wilson died, I have never been afraid but that gave me a strange feeling today.

That’s why Collin, Keri, and I think you need a pet. This dog would be so good for you. He will be your protector or at least he will scare people to death with that bark. Why don’t you keep him for a while and see if you enjoy him. If not, Keri will take him back.

Now Rose did not know how to respond. She felt trapped. She wanted to keep him, but she didn’t want to keep him. For sure, she had mixed feelings.

Koti was not through with her selling job. Rose, he will be someone to talk to and laugh with. You have not had that for some time. When you hear a noise, even a creak in the floor, someone else will hear it also. He will give you feedback, really he will.

Okay already. I’ll keep him. He’ll stay, he’ll stay. Are you happy?

Yes, and you will be also, as they laughed and hugged, and watched the puppy play.

Before Koti left, she explained what was in the bag. She had brought a dinner dish, puppy food, and several small toys. She could see the worried look on Rose’s face.

Please don’t worry, Rose. Keri will be in touch with you about pills and shots and a very good vet. Smiling broadly, his name is Jackson Paris and you will love him. He is a joy to work with and a real looker.

Rose snickered at her friend’s emphasis on ‘real looker’. Too young for us, I suppose?

I’m afraid so, Rose, but aren’t they all? Especially the handsome ones.

One more quick hug for her friend and a big thank you for dinner, then walked towards her car. Before she opened the door she called back to Rose, Now Rose, if you have any questions please call Keri, but please give your dog a name soon. I’ll be in touch. Now wipe that worried look off your face. Before the door closed she yelled, Don’t forget to take him out when need be.

Now Koti was again coughing but trying to hide the fact.

As she pulled out of the driveway onto the street she started frantically pointing towards the front of the house. Rose watched then ran to the front large living room window. All she saw was Koti’s car turning south. She always drove east to go to her condo. Rose watched until Koti was out of sight, wondering why she was pointing and what was she so frenzied about.

Oh well, she knew she would call when she arrived home, and she did.

Rose, that guy was parked in front of your house. You know the one with the hat? He tried to hide his face but I know it was the same man. I turned and followed him but he saw me and took off fast. I saw part of his license plate but there was mud on some of the letters. I wrote it down. I don’t know what we will do with it. She stopped, laughed, and started coughing. She was completely out of breath.

Rose had been worried about Koti’s coughing for some time but hesitated to say too much.

Koti, I don’t want you chasing cars. Now settle down and take your meds. I forgot to ask. Where is Yvette?

Oh, she’s with Jackson today. He will bring her home later. I’m going to make some hot tea. Maybe he will stay and visit a while.

Watch it now, Koti. Remember he’s too young for you.

There is a saying that Rose loves and it suddenly came to mind.

‘There is no garden so complete, but roses make the place more sweet. There is no life so rich and rare, but one more friend can enter there.’

When Rose walked into the kitchen the puppy was resting peacefully