By Way of the Rose Read online

  “You're talking out of your head, Nathan! I can't understand what you are trying to say.”

  “T-The child Sarah conceived wasn't from a love affair.” Nathan struggled for his next breath and he cringed in pain. “I-I forced myself on her and she... and she got pregnant. I beat her. I kicked her. And, John, I raped her, your precious Sarah. I-I raped her.” Nathan went limp as his eyes glazed over. John held his lifeless brother in his arms and was stunned. The letter was true!

  “No! No!” John cried. He looked down at Nathan, whose face seemed to be frozen in a sadistic smile as his empty, dead eyes stared up at him. “You bastard! You low-down dirty bastard!” He shook Nathan's lifeless body violently. “You come back, you filthy coward! Come back and face me like a man!” John shook him harder then he threw him to the ground. He stood up and backed away as he cried out. “No! Not Sarah... you didn't do that to Sarah! God tell me that didn't happen... someone tell me I didn't turn her out after this had happened to her! Please, oh please, help me!” John crumpled back down on the ground screaming into his hands. “No! Sarah! No!”

  What had just happened and the knowledge of what Sarah had gone through made John want to die himself. He didn't care about anything. Then, a picture of Sarah flashed in his mind. Sweet little Sarah, all alone and hurting. John got to his feet and looked down at his brother.

  “Lay there and be a feast for the vultures, you damned bastard, and may you rot in hell's fire for all time to come. I don't forgive you for that, I don't! Do you hear me? I don't forgive you! Go to hell... do you hear me? I want you to go to hell!” he screamed out as the pain tore through his body.

  John quickly found Doug. “I'm deserting.”

  “What? Ya can't do that!”

  “Want to bet? Just watch me!”

  “What's happened?”

  “It was Nathan who raped Sarah. Did you know that?”

  “Yer brother? No, I didn't. She never told me who it was. How did you find out?”

  “I just shot him. I didn't know it was him, but as he lay dying he told me. He wanted to cleanse his soul before he went to the hereafter, I suppose. Or to get one last gloat in on me. It doesn't matter. I have to get to her. I have to let her know that I'm sorry!”

  “Ye can get leave to do that. Ya don't have to desert.”

  “I'm not coming back, Doug. You get my leave for me. I'm gone!” John ran away from everything. To hell with the war. To hell with the slaves. To hell with the North and the South! Nothing mattered right then but Sarah. Sweet, beautiful, Sarah. The little girl he'd adored and the woman he'd fallen in love with. He wasn't Union or Confederate, he was just a man. A man who must find the woman he loved and make everything perfect for her. The world could wait. It's taken care of itself for millions of years. But the time for love is now. I must let her know how I feel. I have to let her know that I'm sorry

  John shed his uniform and replaced it with plain trousers and shirt that he took from a clothesline behind a small farmhouse. Sarah must not worry about anything anymore. She must not hurt anymore! Sweet Sarah, too noble to let anyone know what Nathan was really like. So noble that she would take the blame for him rather than let Momma and Papa know of the evil they had spawned. She wore the scarlet letter even though she had been the innocent victim. Oh, the very thought of it made John want to cry out in agony again. He had been a fool for thinking any less of her. He was a stupid ass, just as Doug had said. How could I have ever been so blind and stupid? How!? Where was my brain? I'm a fool! He remembered Sarah's horrible groaning cries that first day he'd came back. This was the hurt that was in her cries. This was the horrible thing he felt in her when his stomach twisted into knots and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. This was the bitterness and hatred she spoke of when she'd said it felt good to hate! He had failed her so miserably! But he must make it right! He must!

  When he got into the town of Marion Arkansas, he asked where he might find Sarah Rush. He was directed to a small cabin on the outskirts of town. As he rode up John saw Nora out in the yard hanging clothes on the line. She looked up as he came closer then walked out to meet him. “Can I help you with something, Sir?”

  “Yes please, I was wondering if you know a woman named Sarah Rush?”

  “Yes, Sarah lives here.” Nora looked at him suspiciously. “She came here four years ago and never left, to my good fortune.” John's throat became gravely. He tried to speak, but the words were hard to come out.

  “I-Is she here now?”

  “She's out right now. You've come a ways have you?”

  “Yes, from Mississippi.”

  “And how do you know my Sarah?”

  “She was my sister.”

  Nora stared long and hard at him. “What's your name?”

  “John DuVal.”

  “Haven't you and your people caused her enough pain yet? Don't you think it would be best to just leave her alone now?”

  “We have caused her pain, I won't deny it. But I love her with all my heart and I will do anything to make her happy.”

  “She is happy here. I understand her and love her for who she is.”

  “My good Lord above, woman, why do you think I love her? Do you think I would have her be anything else but what she is? I love her with all my heart!”

  “You love her? Is that why you turned your back on her? Is that why you trampled her trust into the mud? She told me about her trust and belief in you. She told me it never mattered what Nathan did to her or anyone else for that matter, she never put her trust in them. In your hands she placed her heart, and by your hands her heart was crushed. From anyone else she was ready for such treatment, but never from you. She has put herself back together now, why don't you just leave her alone? She has found peace and acceptance here. Don't cause her hurt again, I beg you, just go and never look back.”

  “She told you everything that happened?”

  “Yes she did. I thank you all for taking her in and raising her, if not for you and your family she would have died, I know that. But it gives you no right to kill her spirit just because you have saved her life. I wanted you to know what had happened to her... I wanted you to know how wrong you were. But you have no business here tampering with her feelings.”

  “I don't seek to kill her spirit. I don't want her to be anything but happy. I didn't know what had happened. I never knew what Nathan had done to her. If I had only known.”

  “If you had only given Sarah the chance, she might have told you.”

  “I just need to tell her I'm sorry... I need her to know that I know and that I'll never forgive myself for what I did to her. I need for her to know that I love her with all my heart. I need her!”

  “John, you go and tell her those things. But if that girl puts her heart back in your hands, you'd better protect it till your last dying breath, because if you crush it again, I will not be responsible for what I do to you... not in my eyes nor the eyes of God!”

  “I know... I know.”

  “She usually takes her spiritual walks upon the hill over there.” Nora pointed.

  “Thank you, ma'am.”

  “Welcome.”

  John mounted his horse and rode as fast as he could towards Sarah. As he neared the hill, John saw her walking toward him. He whipped the horse to go faster. As he neared her, Sarah stopped and watched him come. Her skirts flapped in the steady gentle winds. She put her hand over her eyes to block the sun. She couldn't make out who it was then she saw his face. She felt her heart pounding. It pounded so hard that she could feel it in her ears!

  “He's come. No... oh no!” She didn't know why but she turned and began to run from him.

  “Sarah!” She heard him call out.

  No tears Sarah... none! Don't shed one more tear! Don't let him see you weak again. Let him see you how you are now... strong and free! Don't cower down. Don't run away. Let him see you strong and proud! Let him see you, Sarah Sehoya Rush. She stopped running and stood with her back towards John as
he jumped from his horse and ran to her. He grabbed her by her arm and turned her around to face him.

  “Sarah.” He was out of breath. “Oh, dear Sarah!” He wrapped her in his arms. As she lay her head on his chest, she could hear his pounding heart. She pushed back from him.

  “What brings you to Arkansas?”

  “You... you know it's you!”

  “You read the letter I sent to Doug?”

  “Yes, yes I did.”

  “And you came for me?”

  “Yes, I came for you.”

  “I-I wanted to tell you... .I just didn't want you to do anything and get in trouble, I didn't want Momma and Poppa to know! I-I... ”

  “Shush, I know why you didn't tell me... I know!”

  “You believe me, John? You really believe me?”

  “At first I was so angry I didn't... but I was still so blind I didn't want to believe it. But then... ” John paused.

  “Yes, but then?”

  “I killed him, Sarah... I killed Nathan. Before he died, he told me everything. I hate him for what he did to you, Sarah! I hate him!”

  Sarah's face went blank. “He's dead?”

  “Yes... he can never hurt you again! Never!” Then Sarah's look became cold.

  “So, you're not here because of my letter... but because Nathan told you what he did?”

  “Sarah... I-I love you.”

  “Tell me this, John... if Nathan hadn't told you what he did, would you be standing here, ‘loving me’ or would you still have your back turned to me?”

  “Do you believe in forgiveness or second chances?”

  “I believe that only if you are ready to forgive can you be forgiven. Just answer me, John! Had you not found out the truth from Nathan would you be standing here now? Or would you still have your back turned to me?”

  John knew the answer and he felt ashamed. He hated himself. He looked away.

  “I thought so. It wouldn't have mattered what I said... It never would have and it never will. It took the man who raped me telling you what happened to get you to believe! Go home, John... wherever that is, New York, Tennessee... just go home and leave me be!” She turned and began to walk away.

  “Sarah!” John yelled. “Forgive me!” Sarah stopped and turned toward him.

  “I forgave you long ago, John. I could never hate you.”

  “Then marry me!”

  “I don't have to be your wife to forgive you. I still love you with all my heart. But I just don't love you like that anymore. Something is gone... I don't believe I'll ever get it back.”

  “I can make you love me again, I know I can!”

  “John, you can't make someone fall in love with you. It's either there or it isn't. Maybe I never really loved you in the first place. Maybe it was simply childhood dreams. If I had really loved you, surely it would have lasted through anything. Even this. I'm done with it, John. I'm over it. I'm not your little Sarah... I'm not a helpless little girl. I'm a grown woman. I love you, John, but I also love myself. Being here has taught me how to do that. It's taught me that I'm worthy and that I deserve more than to be a servant, a thing that walks around all day every day without an opinion, thought or feeling. I am a feeling, thinking woman and I deserve more!”

  “Sarah... please, just listen!” John cried. The tears washed down his face. Sarah took the small bouquet of Cherokee Roses and handed it to John.

  “I guess we must all do our part to water the rose.”

  “W-What are you talking about?”

  “It's the legend of these flowers, the Cherokee Rose. During the darkest days of my people's forced move the chiefs asked God for a sign for the mothers. Not long after, these flowers began to bloom. It's believed that everywhere a tear fell, a rose was watered and grew. God knows, I've done my part to water them... when I thought you were dead, when Nathan violated me, when I found out I was pregnant with his child, when you turned your back on me, when Shane was killed, when I left the only family I had ever known, and when I lost the child I thought I would hate which made my tears and sorrow even greater... I've watered enough of these roses. It's your turn!”

  “Sarah, don't, I'm begging you! Give me another chance!”

  “Go home, John. Just go home knowing that you are forgiven. But I'll never be your wife, ever.” She started onward towards the house. She heard John as she walked away from him.

  “Please, Sarah. I can make you love me... I can! I'm not leaving! I'm not going anywhere! I'll prove myself to you... I can make you love me again!” Sarah paused and looked back to see John, crumpled to the ground on his knees, weeping into the flowers. He was now feeling the worse pain of all, the awful pain of regret. Her heart ached for him, but she turned, held her head high, stiffened her back and walked onward. She was free. She was in control. The chain of grief gone. She would not make the same mistake she'd made with Shane. Never again would she toss away true love to chase after a girlhood dream. Tonight, she would write Doug.

  * * * *

  The End

  * * * *

  Author's Postscript

  * * * *

  The idea for By Way of the Rose came to me while I was doing research for my family tree a few years ago. I was going through the census files and found out that my great grandmother, who was supposedly of Native American descent, and her mother-in-law, my great-great-grandmother, had the same first names with different spellings. How odd, I thought.

  I asked about it and was told the story that had been handed down through the years, depending on who in my family you ask. Some say this story isn't true, that it's, “tall tales” dreamed up by colorful minds in the family. While these, ‘colorful minds’ swear it's all fact. Either way, it made for a good novel in my opinion.

  The tale was this: It seems that my great grandmother had been named after my great-great-grandmother. But there was a shocking secret to come. The girl had been adopted from a Choctaw woman by my great grandfather's parents who gave her the name of her adoptive mother. She grew up to marry the man who had been passed off as her twin brother, my great grandfather.

  True or not, I was captivated as I listened to this intriguing tale which had so many blanks. I wondered how anyone could grow up to fall in love with their adoptive sibling? As an author, I quickly found a novel building in my head with these blanks being filled.

  From there, the story took on a life of its own. It turned on a dime and ended up not with a brother-sister wedding as I had thought, but with the liberation of a severely abused girl who found her voice, her heritage, her way and also the meaning of true love.

  The boy, John is an idealist whose ideals become clouded. He cares a great deal for humanity, but he misses the boat in thinking that money can buy happiness, gifts can heal all wounds and finery can make up for lost time.

  Thank you for honoring me by reading the work of this ‘colorful mind’ and I hope you fully enjoyed it.

  Until next time, I wish you God's Rich Blessings,

  Cynthia Ward Weil

  Author's Bio

  * * * *

  Cynthia Ward Weil is a self-taught Mississippi artist and writer who overcame the stigma of a learning challenge called dyslexia. She went into the field of writing and challenged all the doubts, thus making a statement of the undaunting spirit and never ceasing ability to be successful by holding fast to one's dreams.

  Keeping in mind the motto of her Mother, “How can you fail if you never quit?”

  Cynthia faithfully stayed in the race and now has had her first novel, Sometimes There's a Dove, published by Twilight Times Books. She has since become a proud member of EPIC, a reviewer for KnowBetter.com and is working on her third novel, an historical romance.

  -The End-

  * * *

  twilighttimesbooks.com

  Visit twilighttimesbooks.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter One
/>   Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Author's Postscript

  Author's Bio