The Path of Roses

A Story by Jesse Jacques

Six years ago, my father died. Three years ago, my mother married a man

named William Emerson. After my father had died of chicken pox, my

mother vowed she would never marry, nor look at another man again.

Though she kept her promise for two years, she met William, a lower-class

merchant. He was always looking for ways to become a rich man, but

could not go very far.

            At first, William and my mother were simply acquaintances. Then they became friends, with my mother frequenting the shop where William worked for a living. After about a year had gone by with their friendship, my mother came home one day pink-cheeked with a smile on her face. “Belle!” she had shouted, looking for me, “I must tell you some merry news!” Thinking she had gotten a letter from Uncle Alfred, I rushed to the parlor where she waited, with a smile on her face and a beautiful diamond ring on her finger. Right where the ring from Father used to be.

I had stared open-mouthed as she quickly walked to me and embraced my tiny frame.

“Belle, William has proposed,” Mother said with a smile on her face and a magnificent diamond ring on her finger. She waited for me to say something, anything, possibly something close to, “That is wonderful, Mother!” But, I simply stood there speechless as she walked into the kitchen to start the evening meal.

            “Belle, please come and help me. We must make the most delicious meal, for William is coming to the evening meal. We must also clean the house, for it looks a bit dull.”

            That night, all three of us sat down to eat Mother’s Nightingale Soup (she had assured us it did not have nightingale in it), her fresh-picked roasted vegetables, and a whole turkey. We all ate much of the food and William made small talk with Mother.

            In the next month, Mother and William were married and calling each other “Rose” and “William”.

            In the next year, Mother was pregnant with William’s first child and I had met a young man in town that was courting me. Mother did not seem to mind, though. He was from a much respected family.

            Along with those memories and a few others were the only things I had left of Mother. She had died soon after William’s son, Jacob, was born. They both developed scarlet fever and died within five days time. But, when they died, Mother’s money went to her other relatives and William had blamed me for their deaths.

            Now, it was two years after Mother and Jacob’s deaths. I sat on a wooden bench underneath a massive oak tree that had a sprinkling of red leaves, orange leaves, and gold-colored leaves.

            “Belle, I need you to find Betty. She has wandered off again,” William shouted from the edge of our tiny house.

            “Has she wandered into the woods?” I asked, careful not to let annoyance creep into my voice.

            “I do not know. That is why you must find her.”

            “I will see if I can find her in the woods,” I stood up, waiting for him to tell me to be careful. But, when he didn’t, I turned and started towards the woods at a slow gait.

            As I reached the edge of the woods, I saw something quite peculiar out of the corner of my eye. It was a path of roses starting near the middle of the woods. I quickly headed toward it and weaved around the tightly-packed oak and maple trees in my path. When my feet were just mere inches from the path, I stopped immediately.

            I placed one foot before the other and started on the path, careful not to crush the roses. They were all beautiful, the rain from the evening before still left a layer of mist on each flower. But, they were magnificent- all of them different colors and each of them more beautiful than the last. There were soft pinks, creamy whites, silky reds, and bright yellows all beneath my feet, cushioning them from the hard-packed dirt beneath.

            When I finally looked up, my bright green eyes found the end of the beautiful path. It led to a magnificent meadow filled to the brim with life. Flowers of all colors and shapes were there, while buzzing bees, flitting hummingbirds, and delicate butterflies circled them, waiting for a taste.

            I stood there hypnotized as one of the buzzing bumblebees flew up right next to me as if it were seeing whether I was worthy enough to enjoy the meadow like all of the other magnificent creatures here. After a few moments, the bee buzzed away, satisfied that I could stay in the meadow. And I did.



            The meadow was the only place where I could stay away from all of the noise of the real world. I mostly daydreamed there and sometimes I would think of Mother. Every time I thought of her, I would think of the best memory I had of her. She was wearing a white dress with lace all around it, gleaming pearls lining the collar, and a long train that trailed behind her when she walked. Father was standing next to her, smiling, looking handsome in a black suit and a white dress shirt made of the softest material people could buy. I also remember all of the people standing around them. Some of them were friends, but most were relatives wishing them luck on their special day. At the end of this special day was over, Mother wore a dazzling diamond ring on her left hand, and they both said two very special words to each other. When these words were spoken, the minister let them join in the sweetest and purest of kisses. They were finally married. And now I was finally at peace.