The Double Rose (14 page)

He investigated the dark hallway first, then the stairwell. Halfway down the steps, his nostrils detected the faint smell of smoke.

Marie! The desire to save her overtook his mind. There was not a possession he owned that deserved a split second worth of consideration. She was his treasure.

He swiftly returned to his love’s room. The door was locked. “MARIE!” His angry fist beat the intricately carved door but provoked no response. After taking five steps backward into his bedroom, he rammed Marie’s door, separating the bolt from the frame. His strength was magnified more out of the realization that she still did not trust him than the rising smoke.

The invasion of Marie’s bedchamber jostled her awake. She screamed. “Are you crazy?” Grabbing the hairbrush off the night table as if it were a weapon, she threatened Josh. “I knew you would try something insane like this.” With a tight grip on its tortoiseshell handle, she violently wielded it about. “So help me God, Josh Ryan, if you do not get out of my room this freakin’ instant, I am going to hurt you!”

Josh was dumbfounded by her reaction and completely ignored her threat. “The estate is on fire.” He ripped off the bedspread, then closed the cracked door the best he could and stuffed the quilt into the small opening at the bottom of the doorway.

* * *

Still indignant, but no longer armed, Marie said, “Why did you have to break in the door?”

“I would not have had to break it in if you trusted me.” He reprimanded her with his eyes. “What made you think locking your door would have kept me out, if I were that type of man?” The annoyance in his eyes rivaled the expression in the wave of his hand as he motioned toward the hairbrush.

He was unmistakably offended, but she felt justified. “Why do you have to take everything so personally!?”

“Because it is personal! You and I are the only people in this house. The only person you could have meant to lock out is me, even though I have never behaved in any way other than as a complete gentleman toward you. Why are you afraid of me?”

“No woman in her right mind would sleep away from home without locking the door! Now who is being irrational? Don’t take it so personal. And just for the record, I am not afraid of you,” she lied. “I passed a self-defense course with flying colors, but this definitely is not the time to discuss it.”

“Maybe not, but it seems that the only time you open up is when you are pressed into it.”

They searched the room for an alternative exit. Josh quickly eliminated the front window as a possibility because it had a thirty-foot drop.”

“I cannot explain it, but I sense that there is a way out there.” She pointed to the opposite wall occupied by a five-foot-high chest of drawers.

Josh shoved the empty antique in the corner with little effort. Tap. Tap. His knuckles hit the Victorian wallpaper. “It sounds hollow.”

“I have a strong impression that there is nothing more than a thin layer of plaster there,” Marie spoke confidently, yet frantically grabbed Grandmother Marie’s poetry book and wooden jewelry box, then stuffed them into her oversized purse.

She looked up in time to see Josh turn with determination toward the wall.

* * *

Without consideration of failure, he rammed the thin place with his right shoulder. Crash! The plaster shattered, opening the way for their escape. Marie clung to her large purse. Josh grabbed her hand. “Follow me and stay close,” he ordered, assuming command of the rescue.

“Here.” Marie handed him a slender flashlight she retrieved from her burdensome purse. Once they passed through the thin veil of plaster, they discovered a large closet with a set of spiral stairs leading to an upper room filled with forgotten treasures.

Marie closed the attic door behind them. Josh snatched a robe protruding from a cardboard box and used it to seal the inch of space beneath the door. The severity of the storm became more apparent as thunder trumpeted over their heads.

Weaving through an array of items—luggage, old dusty furniture, and a box of antique toys—they stumbled on a large framed portrait.

“That is the woman who warned me about the fire.” He beamed the light on the dusty canvas depicting a Native American man and a woman dressed in red with exquisite green eyes. Around their necks were the beaded lion claw necklace and gold cross from Grandmother Marie’s jewelry box.

“That is Zoe!” In the midst of danger, Marie had another epiphany. “Zoe is Grandmother Marie!”

“I am sorry, Marie,” Josh tugged her arm, “we do not have time for this. We have to hurry.” He firmly interlocked his fingers around hers. His large masculine hands eclipsed Marie’s dainty fingers as he pulled her forward.

“No!”

He did not want to appear heartless, but present danger did not afford them the luxury of time. He tightened his grip as he pulled her toward the window, and seriously considered slinging her over his shoulder.

“Please, Josh, please! I must have a photo,” she begged. “Let me take one photo!”

“Marie, we do not have time for this!” He turned to see the anguish in her eyes. He knew it would slowly kill her to leave without that photo. “Hurry up,” he rescinded his order as he released her captive hand. “I'm going to investigate the window up ahead while you get your pic.”

* * *

Marie was quick as promised, but snapped four photographs instead of one with her cell phone, then joined Josh by the rattling window where he was examining the condition of the roof through the wet glass panes.

* * *

“You stay here,” he said, fully prepared for a fight. “There is no smoke in this room yet. You will be okay.” He hoped she would not quarrel. “I am going to find a way to get us to safety and come back for you. Stand by the window where there is fresh air.”

As if it were a reflex, Marie tightly latched hold of his arm. His shirt saved his flesh from being dug into by her pink nails. “Are you crazy!? You are delusional if you think I am not going with you!”

The thunder continued to roar, but not enough to shake sense into Marie. She recognized that look of resolve in his eyes. It was unyielding. After a deep breath, she softened her approach. “Please don’t leave me here alone. We can get out of here together,” she pleaded.

* * *

His heart beat faster; louder. The deepest anguish Josh had ever known hit him like a sledgehammer at that moment, but he knew there were no other options. He had to leave her in order to save her. “Marie, this is not the time or place to have a debate about equality in a survival situation. The term
politically correct
is not in Mother Nature’s vocabulary. The facts are that this is a severely intense storm and the winds are strong and forceful.”

He took a good look, sizing her up as he scanned her from head to toe. “You can’t weigh more than one hundred and fifteen pounds. I am much stronger and much heavier than you are, and far less likely to get blown off the roof. Not to mention the fact that I have training and experience in construction and know a thing or two about walking over a roof. It has nothing to do with male supremacy theology.” He suspected twisted thoughts were circulating through her mind. “It is simply the facts of life. And another fact is: in real life when a person gets blown off a rooftop over forty feet high, they do not get up and walk away.”

* * *

Livid would be an understatement to define her internal response to his statements.

“The best thing for you to do is to stay here near the window. You can debate with me all you want later, but for now, it will only make matters worse if I am worried that you are trying to follow me out into that hostile environment. Promise me that you will stay here!”

What could she say? The authoritative finality in his voice and his eyes was victorious. He had his way—for now. “Fine! I promise.”

He ran his hand across her cheek. “Please trust me. I promise that I will come back for you and everything will be okay.”

She snapped back, “Then go. The sooner you go, the sooner we will both be safe!”

* * *

As he opened the window, a loud gust of frigid wind burst into the room. He lifted one leg through the opening, then the other, and climbed out onto the roof. Taking each step with precise calculation, he made his way across the roof to the edge of the house. Hail pelted hard against his drenched body while the wind attempted to carry him off.

Attached to the entire length of the east side of the house was a set of wooden trellises completely overgrown with red rose vines. Step by step, he carefully climbed down a trellis. The rose bush’s razor-sharp thorns cut deep into the flesh of his hands, arms, chest, and face. By the time he reached the ground, his shirt was saturated in blood mingled with rainwater. He may have broken a Guinness record as he ran to the back of the house, grabbed the tallest ladder left behind by the renovation crew, then raced back to the trellis to revisit the merciless thorns. The cold, wet steel chilled his hands as he secured it against the house.

* * *

Marie got drenched as she kept watch out the window, praying that Josh would return safely and quickly. Rising smoke threatened to invade her sanctuary when suddenly a bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, illuminating Josh as he staggered over the rooftop.

A tremendous rush of relief washed over Marie. What was it about this man that aroused such intense feeling in her? No matter. He was safe and had come back for her just as he promised.

The rain showered his face as he spoke. “Listen carefully. This roof is slippery. We have to walk slowly to the edge of the house where I have secured a ladder.”

He took her large purse and flung it over his strong shoulder, then reached in and recaptured her hand, guiding her onto the roof. He tightly held her by the waist as they inched their way to the ladder, resisting the wind’s power. “Stabilize yourself by holding onto the end of the ladder while I climb on first, then climb between me and the ladder.”

“Okay.” She clung to the last rail for dear life, regretting her coarse words to him. He had been right. It was his strength, anchoring her, that saved her from being blown away with the fallen leaves. Bursts of thunder sounded even louder in the open air.

Marie’s petite body, soaked to the bone from the wet, chilly night air, began to shiver under her white nightgown. When they reached the bottom, Josh picked her up, cradling her in his strong arms. She did not protest this time. Was it because her emotions were equally as taxed as her body?

Josh gingerly placed Marie in the passenger seat then ran around the car to the driver's door. “Well, at least we are out of the rain.”

Their drenched bodies saturated the upholstered seats, without towels or dry clothing to comfort them.

Josh pulled out his cell phone from his hip pocket and called Jacques.

Marie stared at Josh, overwhelmed by his unwavering devotion to her. He had saved her life a second time. It took rain and fire to douse her apprehensions, at least some of them. “Josh, I’m glad you came to Paris.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled at the affirmation that her heart was opening to him.

“Look at your shirt. You are covered in blood! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said as he removed his torn, blood-stained shirt and tossed it on the floor of the backseat.

“Please tell me that you have the car key in that thing.” He handed her the only parcel of possessions to escape the fire.

Marie laughed. “Yeah, I'm sure that I do. Turn the light on and I will find it.”

Josh turned the interior car light on and watched Marie’s wet frame, still slightly shivering as she rummaged through her purse hunting for the key.

“I found it!” She pulled out the key chain. After she had turned her head, her jaw dropped. A greater shock than an inferno had captured Marie. Etched in full color into the flesh on Josh Ryan’s right arm was a tattoo of the double rose.

Though the light was dim, the countless cuts and scratches covering his body were visible. Once again, like a magnet, her hand was drawn toward him. She gently touched his tattoo, running her fingers in disbelief over the full color double rose etched on his skin.

“When did you get this?” Astonishment resonated through her diction.

* * *

He was grateful he had a clear view of her beautiful eyes when she saw the double rose tattoo for the first time. “When Aaron picked me up the day I was discharged from the hospital, I insisted he drive me directly to a parlor owned by a professional artist. My brother tried, but could not talk me out of it.”

“Josh, why would you do such a crazy thing?” She retracted her cold hand.

Josh sighed. He desperately hoped she would perceive the tattoo as a token of his love. He slowly moved his hand toward hers, rubbing his finger over her cool, creamy palms. “I had hoped it would be obvious to you by now. I want to be the man you dream about.”

He kissed the inside of her right wrist, then turned the key. They sat in the warm, idling car until the fire trucks and Jacques and Marianne arrived. Two hours later the four drove to the caretaker’s house to spend the last few hours of the night.

In the morning, the two couples returned to examine the remains of the old mansion. All that the caretakers would be able to salvage would be their memories.