Roses Read Online Free PDF Page B

between her and her mother, who
     hardly allowed her out of the house without gloves and a bonnet. What was worse, while others lovingly called her “Mary Lamb,”
     Percy had nicknamed her “Gypsy,” which she took as an insult to her Toliver coloring.
    Still, she knew there was something striking about the combination of her black hair and green eyes and oval-shaped face with
     its marked Toliver features. Her manners, too, were lovely, as befitting a Toliver, and she made good marks in school. No
     cause for mockery there.
    And so, because she could not pin down a justifiable cause for Percy’s recent disdain, a sort of antipathy grew between them,
     at least on her part. Percy seemed as unaware of her dislike as he had been of her admiration.
    On this day, she had looked at the soda with an outward scorn but an inner acute longing. (It was chocolate, her favorite.)
     All through the long July morning, she had managed to strike a pose impervious to the heat and cloying humidity, keeping her
     arms a discreet distance from her body to allow a negligible breeze up her sleeves. And now without warning, Percy’s grin
     and soda were implying that he saw through her crisp outer appearance and knew that inside the eyelet dress she was dissolving
     into her underwear.
    “Here,” he said. “Take this. You look about to melt.”
    She perceived it as a deliberate affront. Toliver ladies never looked about to melt. Throwing up her chin, she rose from the
     park bench and said in her best haughty manner, “Too bad you’re not gentleman enough not to notice.”
    Percy had laughed. “Gentleman be damned. I’m your friend. Drink up. You don’t have to thank me.”
    “You are quite right about
that,
Percy Warwick,” she said, sidestepping the proffered soda. “However, I would thank you to give it to someone whose thirst
     requires refreshment.”
    She stalked off to congratulate her father, who had finished his speech, but halfway to the courthouse steps she glanced back.
     Percy was watching her as she’d left him, grin still in place and the soda sweating in his hand. A sensation unknown to her
     fourteen-year-old body flushed through her, dizzying in its intensity as their gazes locked in a kind of recognition across
     the shimmering distance. A cry of surprise and protest rose and died in her throat, but somehow Percy heard it. He grinned
     wider in response and raised the glass to her, then drank, and she could taste the cold chocolate in her mouth.
    Mary could taste the cold sweetness now. She could feel the sweat collecting under her arms and between her breasts and the
     same sensation tightening her stomach and thighs. “Percy…,” she murmured.
    “Mary?”
    She turned at the sound of the familiar voice, as agile as a girl of fourteen, but she was confused. How had Percy gotten
     behind her? She had just seen him standing beneath the elm on the courthouse common.
    “Percy, my love…,” she greeted him in surprise, hampered by the cane and handbag from holding out her arms. “Did you have
     to drink
all
my soda? I wanted it that day, you know, as much as I wanted you, but I didn’t know it. I was too young and silly and too
     much of a Toliver. If only I hadn’t been such a fool—”
    She felt herself shaken. “Miss Mary… it’s Matt.”

Chapter Four
    M att?” Mary repeated, blinking into the concerned face of Percy’s grandson.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Matt said.
    Oh, Lord, Mary thought as her confusion cleared and she read Matt’s expression. She’d let a very old cat out of a very old
     bag. How could she explain her way out of this? But she was loath to let go of the memories of that day while the feelings
     still lingered. How great it had been to go back for those few throbbing minutes when the juices still flowed and her blood
     had thrilled. To see Percy again at nineteen….
    Senility did have its rewards.
    She smiled at Matt and patted the starched front of his shirt. Like his grandfather,