The White Rose

Adam awoke to the smell of lilac filling his large room on the second floor. His nose scrunched up at the horrid smell as he sat up, still trying to fully awaken. “What the hell?” he muttered while running a hand through his messy hair. “Isabel,” he growled, swinging his legs over his bed and standing up. He grabbed his black robe that was at the edge of his bed and quickly put it on then marched out of his room.

He found her at the end of the hall placing a light purple candle on the small table. She was dressed in the same clothes from the day before he noted. While walking over to her he asked, “Where did you get that candle?”

“From the attic,” Isabel simply answered while walking away.

“The attic?” He followed her. “I didn’t give you permission to go up there.”

She stopped suddenly, giving him only a split second to avoid bumping into her. She turned with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Why don’t you want me to go in the attic? Are you hiding something in there?”

“What? Don’t be stupid. I don’t need to give you a reason.” He glanced around and noticed other candles spread out in various places. Some in the wrought iron candle holders attached to the walls, others in candelabras, and a few on tables. The last time he saw any of that stuff was when his mother was still alive. He shook his head trying to get rid of the memories that suddenly flashed through his mind.

Isabel noticed this and a look of concern came over her. “Mr. Richardson, are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” He straightened his robe and glared at the different candles. “They aren’t all scented, right?”

“No, only a few. As much as I love candles, even I couldn’t handle the smell of the different aromas mixing together. That’s a headache waiting to happen.”

He slowly nodded. “Fine, you can keep them.” She gave a small smile and turned to leave. “Wait,” he said, and she stopped and turned. “Why do you have the candles out here?”

“Because the electricity is still out and when night comes we’re going to need some light. Bumping into each other and different objects isn’t fun. By the way, how is you’re nose?” She was genuinely concerned and fully apologetic. Just because she was still mad at him didn’t mean she was glad that she had hurt him the night before.

Adam stopped himself from touching his nose. “It’s fine.” His eyes narrowed when a thought hit him. “What do you mean by ‘we’? I thought the agreement was only one night?”

“Have you looked outside lately? The storm didn’t let up until an hour ago. You can go see for yourself.” She gestured toward the front of the house. “I also suspect that it will start up again. My car is buried in who knows how many feet of snow. I fear that I may need to trespass on your hospitality a little longer.” She hated that she had to beg to stay but she had no other choice. It’s not like she wanted to stay anyway.

“I would like to thank you for your hospitality,” she answered. “And I wanted to let you know if it would be okay if I trespassed on your property for just a little longer.” The quote from that old hag went through his mind. It was cold and snowy that day too. He was ready to object but stopped himself. Isabel wasn’t exactly like the old beggar woman. She wasn’t useless and knew how to keep house. She never got in his way either. He let out a sigh. “Fine, you may stay as long as you need to. But once the storm is over, and you’re car can be dug out, then you’re gone. Got it?”

“Yes, Mr. Richardson. Thank you so much.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever, just continue doing whatever you were doing.” Isabel inclined her head and turned around before walking down the hall. “And don’t forget to make my breakfast!” he yelled towards her retreating figure.

“I’m on it!” she yelled back without stopping or turning around.

Adam turned and went back to his bedroom. He picked through his expanse closet for some clothes then laid them neatly on his messy bed. Then he proceeded to his private bathroom, where he turned on the water then stripped off his pajamas. Once the water was at the perfect temperature he switched it to the shower and stepped in. The hot water felt good on his body and he stood still, letting fall down his back. He was glad that the hot water still worked. As usual he began thinking about the events that just happened and when he reached for the shampoo he stopped. Something that Isabel had said gave him pause. It was then that he realized that she had called him by his first name.

In all the time he’s known her, she had never done that before.

Isabel worked in the kitchen making the eggs, bacon, and some pancakes. It was a lighter meal than the day before but she wanted to save the food they had left. If the storm continued on for a few more days they might run out soon. She was glad that the family had never updated the stove or else she would never be able to use it with the electricity out. The sound of footsteps made her turn and walking into the kitchen was Adam wearing black jeans, and a red turtleneck. He was drying his dirty blond hair with a small white towel.

“God, it’s cold,” he muttered as he walked to the table and sat down. The chair made that irritating scratching noise as it went across the wooden floor.

“That’s because the heater doesn’t work. I’ll light the fireplace in the living room right after breakfast,” she replied, grabbing a plate. She then began placing the eggs, bacon, and pancakes onto it. Once the plate was filled enough she gently placed it in front of him. “Here you go.”

His blue eyes looked down at it in confusion. “This is it?” He set his gaze towards Isabel.

She sighed. “Yes. We need to save some of the food to last us a while. It’s not like I can go down to the store and pick up some groceries.”

“I guess this will have to do. Orange juice,” he demanded. But she was anticipating it and had the glass ready and quickly placed it near his plate. He blinked a few times then looked up at her, standing there with a smile and her arms crossed. “Well, I’m glad that I let you stay. I kind of miss having a maid around the mansion.” Without another word, he began eating.

Violence isn’t the answer, she thought. Violence isn’t the answer. Violence isn’t the answer. Finally, she turned around and began fixing her own plate.

They both were silent as they ate their breakfast. Adam was at the table and Isabel was leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen. Whenever they had meals at the same time they never sat together. She knew that he wouldn’t allow it.

Soon, they were finished and it was up to Isabel to wash all of the dishes and clean whatever else needed it. It was then that she realized that they had another problem. “Mr. Richardson,” she said before he could leave.

“What?” he said in annoyance.

“I think we have another problem.”

He groaned. “What now?”

“The electricity is out, meaning that the fridge isn’t running, meaning that the food will spoil. Eggs are still good at 45 degrees Fahrenheit, but everything else will go bad.”

He crossed his arms in thought. “How much time do you think we have?” he finally asked.

“Not much. Unless we can somehow keep the kitchen cold but I don’t see how.”

He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea. We’ll use the snow to keep everything cold and put it in an ice chest. There should be one somewhere around here.”

“That actually might work.”

“I’m not useless,” he snapped back.

“I never said that you were.” She took a step back at his sudden burst of anger. “After I clean, then start the fire I’ll go looking for the ice chest then fill it up with the snow.”

“No, I’ll do it. You just concentrate with the cleaning and the other maid stuff.” With that, he left.

Isabel stared at the kitchen door for a while, still a little surprised about what just happened. In all of the time she’s known him, he had never offered to help before.