Poisoned Petals

“Yes.” It was amazing how well he knew her after such a short time. Almost scary.

“We’ve come all this way. I think you should at least see her. Maybe it won’t even be her. Of course, if you’d rather, we can just leave and drive back the way we came.”

“I know. But that would be too easy. I’m not a coward, but I hate trying to come up with a reason for not calling until I could tell her Darmus was dead.”

“I know you’re not a coward.” He grimaced. “Too well. It might be better if you were more afraid of some things.”

“What kind of things? How can being a coward ever be good?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

She supposed he was right but didn’t say so. She faced the door, lifted her hand, and knocked. Her heart was beating fast, and her palms were sweaty. The green door slowly opened and the smell of patchouli wafted out. A young man, not much older than Paul, smiled at them. He was wearing a gold and red African robe. “Yes?”

Could it be? She stared at him, certain he would think she’d lost her mind. Was it possible? There was no question about it. The eyes were the same and there was something about the expression on his face. The tiny dimple in his left cheek as he smiled. It was like looking at a ghost from the past. This had to be Darmus’s son.

Then Peggy knew. She knew what Darmus was talking about that day when he’d come to Charlotte to see her all those years ago. She knew why he’d been afraid she might not speak to him. She understood why Rosie disappeared so suddenly and never came back to school. Stupid! Why didn’t I see it then? The timing was there. Why didn’t I think of Rosie being pregnant?

“I’d like to see Rosie.” She extended her hand, feeling she knew him. She could see so much of Rosie in him, too. “You must be her son.”

He frowned. “Who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of hers.” She put her hand down when he didn’t try to take it. “Peggy Lee.”

“Who is it, Abekeni? Does someone want treatment?”

“Rosie?” Peggy called out, ignoring Abekeni’s defensive stance in the doorway. “It’s me, Peggy.”

A tall, slender woman with skin the color of dark chocolate came to the door. There was gray in her black hair and some wrinkles around her unusual green/gray eyes. But Peggy would have known her anywhere.

“I can’t believe it! Peggy! Is it really you?”

“It’s me, Rosie. It’s been so long.”

Rosie rushed past her son and hugged her old friend. “Oh my God, it’s been so long! How did you find me?”

“I saw your name on the Internet with your business. I probably should have called first, but I decided to take a chance. How have you been?”

“You knew, didn’t you? The way we always knew about each other. I’m fine. Wonderful.” She glanced at Steve. “I don’t think this can be John! If it is, I want his secret!”

“No.” Peggy explained briefly what happened to John and introduced Steve. They shook hands, and Rosie invited them into her home.

“Would you like some hibiscus tea?” Rosie asked. “I think the kettle is ready to boil.”

“That would be wonderful. We’d love some.” Peggy accepted for Steve as well. “I feel so bad about not contacting you before this.”

Rosie showed them into her purple and green living room. The look was straight from the 1960s. Colored beads hung from the doorways, and psychedelic paintings hung on the walls. The furniture was all giant bean bag chairs and papasans. Incense burned in a moon-shaped lantern over the fireplace.

“Don’t feel bad at all. I chose this way. I didn’t want anyone to know about Abekeni. I didn’t really go home when I found out I was pregnant with him. My parents would never have understood. Things were much different back then! I came here to stay with some friends. I planned to give him up and to continue my schooling. Then I saw his sweet face. I knew I’d have to find another way. And I did.”

“He’s a wonderful combination of both of you.” Peggy noticed that Abekeni withdrew from their conversation. He seemed a little old to be so sulky.

“In looks.” Rosie shrugged. “But he’s not like either of us in personality. He plays African music with a tribal band. They’ve even made a CD.”

“That’s wonderful!” Peggy praised him. He stood up and left the room, going behind a purple bead curtain. “And you became a reflexologist.”

“Yes. It’s been very satisfying. Helping people in their pain and sorrow was something I wanted to do as a nurse. But this has been better. It’s made me happy, and I make a good living. I love it here in Asheville. The air is so clean, and the people are very supportive.”

“The Mecca of New Age in the South,” Steve quoted, grimacing after a taste of the hibiscus tea.

“Exactly!” Rosie smiled, not minding the tag the press attached to the city.

Peggy put her cup on the purple tabletop that was embossed with astrological signs. “Did Darmus know you were pregnant? Did he know he was a father?”

“No.” Rosie tossed her head. “Why would I tell him? He was quite clear about not wanting to be with me anymore. Zimbabwe was more important to him. The call of the wild. I have my pride. And I’ve raised my son without him.”