Black Rose

prayer.
    As she faded away, as the mists melted, another message appeared on the mirror. It said simply:
    Forgive me.

    “YOU COULD’VE BEEN killed.”
    Mitch paced the bedroom, anger all but sparking off his fingertips.
    She’d gone down to make a pot of hot coffee, and to ask him to come upstairs. She’d wanted to be assured they weren’t overheard when she told him.
    “I wasn’t. Happily.” The coffee was helping, but she was still chilled, and willing to bundle under a thick cashmere throw.
    “You might’ve died, while I was downstairs putzing around with books and files. You were up here, fighting for your life, and I—”
    “Stop.” But she said it gently. A woman who’d lived with men, raised sons, understood ego. “What happened, could have happened, didn’t happen—none of it was your fault. Or mine, for that matter. The fault lies in what is no doubt an emotionally disturbed ghost. And I don’t care how ridiculous that sounds.”
    “Rosalind.” He stopped in front of her, knelt down, rubbed his hands over hers. They felt strong on hers, and warm. They felt solid. “I know how you feel about this house, but—”
    “You’re going to say I should move out, temporarily. And there’s some good, solid sense in that, Mitch. But I won’t. You can say it’s because I’m stubborn, because I’m too damn hardheaded.”

    “And I will.”
    “But,” she said, “besides that, and the fact I won’t be chased away from what’s mine, the problem won’t be solved by moving out. My son lives on this property, as do others I care about very much. My business is on this property. Do I tell everyone to find other accommodations? Do I shut down my business, risk losing everything? Or do I stick it out, and work to find the answers?”
    “She’s escalating. Roz, for years she did little more than sing to children, an odd but relatively charming addition to the household. A little mischief now and then, but nothing dangerous. In the past year she’s become increasingly unstable, increasingly violent.”
    “Yes, she has.” Her fingers linked with his, held firm. “And you know what that tells me? It tells me we must be getting close to something. That maybe because we are, she’s more impatient, more erratic. Less controlled. What we’re doing matters to her. Just as what I think and feel matters, whether she approves or not.”
    “Meaning?”
    He probably wouldn’t take it well, she considered. But it had to be said. She’d promised him honesty, and took promises seriously. “I was thinking of you. Of us. When I finished sulking about tonight, and started to relax, I was thinking of the way I feel about you, and the way you feel about me.”
    “She tried to kill you because we love each other.” His face stone hard when he pushed to his feet. “I’m the one who needs to leave, to stay away from here, and you, until we finish this.”
    “Is that how you deal with bullies? You give them their way?”
    He’d started to pace again, but whipped around now, fury ripe in his eyes. “We’re not talking about some asshole trying to steal lunch money on the playground. We’re talking about your safety. Your goddamn life!”

    “I won’t give in to her. That’s how I stay alive. That’s how I stay in charge. You think I’m not furious, not frightened? You’re wrong.”
    “I notice fury comes first.”
    “Because it’s positive—at least I’ve always felt a good, healthy mad’s more constructive than fear. That’s what I saw in her, Mitch, at the end.”
    Roz tossed the throw aside and rose to go to him. “She was afraid, shocked and afraid and sorry—pitifully. You said once she didn’t want to hurt me, and I think it’s true.”
    “I also said she could, and I’ve been proven right.” He took her face in his hands, then slid them down to her shoulders. “I don’t know how to protect you. But I know I can’t lose you.”
    “I’ll be less afraid if you’re with me.”
    He cocked his head, very nearly smiled. “That’s very tricky.”
    “It is, isn’t it?” She wrapped her arms around him, settled in when his came around her. “It also happens to be true. She asked me to forgive her. I don’t know that I can, or will, but I need the answers. I need you to help me find them. And damn it, Mitch, I just need you—and that’s hard for me to say.”
    “I hope it gets easier, because I like hearing it. We’ll keep things as they are for now.”
    “Thank you.