Sarah's Roses, Book II: Roses of White

Chapter II

Dedicating this chapter to my sister, agapye, thanks so much the time you took to read and criticize my story Roses of Blue. I look forward to hearing your opinions on the sequel. :)

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Chapter II

That was how I found myself, that chilly day in October, walking down the muddy road to the cluster of houses. They were getting closer and closer and I could feel my heart beating faster and faster. I was excited and frightened at the same time. I knew why I was excited, but what exactly scared me I couldn’t understand, but then, I always had a great fear of the unknown.

“Excuse me.” I said as I approached an old, wrinkled woman sitting on a wooden bench. She eyed my suspiciously, almost as though I was a great evil. “I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Harriet’s home.” I felt silly not knowing Harriet’s last name, but no one had ever given it to me. She stared at me for a few more minutes before replying in a raspy voice.

“Go down the road, it’s the last one. Terrible shape, you won’t miss it.”

I thanked her and placed a quarter in her hand. She was about to refuse, but changed her mind and put the quarter in her pocket. People stared at me as I walked down the grim road. I felt very out of place, seeing I was the only white girl in a sea of colored people, and being so finely dressed compared to all of them didn't help matters. At last I was at the little house at the end of the street. The old lady had been right about saying it was in terrible shape. I was almost hesitant to knock on the door in fear it would collapse if I dared to touch it. The surroundings looked familiar to me, but my memory of this settlement was poor as the only time I had been here, my mind had been occupied with thoughts of Sammy’s escape plan.

“Sarah, you can do this,” I chided myself for my hesitancy. “Pull yourself together and knock.” I brushed the dust off my coat, patted my hair into place and taking a deep breath, reached out and gave the door a rap.

“Come in.” A frail voice called out from the other side. I put my door on the handle and pushed, it didn’t budge, I pushed again, nothing. Was it locked perhaps? A thought struck me and I tugged on the door handle. It creaked and squeaked, but with a little force the door opened. Inside the room was dim and damp and smelled of mold. My eyes took in a broken table, an old stove, a couple of chairs and cabinets. There was a cradle of sorts by one wall and a heap of blankets next to it on the floor. An old bed with rotting wooden posts and thin blankets stood in the very corner. I saw a head raise a little and catch sight of me. The light from outside shone and illuminated me as I stood in the doorway wondering what to do next. The graying head jerked a little higher, and I got a good look at her face. Her cheeks were sullen and she looked thin and worn. I could tell from one look that she was very, very, very sick.

“Evelyn! Is that you?” Her frail voice was filled with hope. I shook my head.

“Ah, forgive me Miss; you are far too young to be her. My eyesight is not what it used to be and I mistook you for someone else.”

I softly closed the door behind me and walked up closer to the bed.

“Are you Harriet?” I asked.

“That is my name,” she confirmed. “Who are you? You’s remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.

“I remind you of Evelyn Beverly?” I gently asked.

“How did you guess?” Her eyes became puzzled.

“My name is Sarah and I am her daughter.”