The Black Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

felt tight suddenly, and she wished she’d eaten before she’d left for such a long walk. Maybe she was scared to see Mama Nadine, after all.
    “Bugs think you eatin’ good tonight, huh? No, you ain’t,” Papa said, slapping at a skeeter on his neck. When he moved his hand away, Sarah could see the tiny smear of blood left behind. “I got ’im?” he asked her, cocking his head like he did when he shaved his face clean each summer. Sarah nodded, gazing uneasily at the blood spot on her father’s neck. Blood always made Sarah feel queasy.
    Owen Breedlove smiled, satisfied. Soon, as he walked, he began to hum the song about dancing with the Charleston gal with the hole in her stocking, and Sarah hummed right along with him until the queasy feeling went away.

Chapter Two
     
     
     
     
     
    By the time Sarah reached Mama Nadine’s sturdy brick house nestled between old, thick oak trees, she was soaked through from the sudden downpour. Droplets that felt as big as her fingers splashed her clothes, thunder roared above the trees, and lightning seared the cloud-darkened skies in flashes that made her vision dance. Sarah’s teeth were chattering, but although she was wet, she wasn’t cold. The chattering was because of fear.
    Tentatively, Sarah strained to reach up to knock on the smooth wooden door with the iron knocker that had turned green from time. As she did, she felt disbelief tickling the back of her neck, reminding her that Papa had used this very same knocker only two weeks before, when she could smell simmering stew from Mama Nadine’s supper wafting from underneath the door. Oxtail stew, and red beans and rice. She and Papa had eaten well that night, which was so few days ago but already felt like a make-believe memory.
    Please, please, please, please, Sarah thought, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She heard a fiddle’s deep strains from inside the house, the music growing more rapid and then slowing down until it almost sounded as mournful as Sarah felt. Certain her knock hadn’t been heard, Sarah rapped the knocker sharply again. This time the fiddling stopped.
    Sarah recognized the lanky, curly-headed man who opened the door; he looked almost like a white man, except for his lips and broad nose that reminded her of Papa’s. He held his fiddle by the neck in one hand, the bow in the other. He looked surprised.
    “Well, lookie what the storm blew in,” the man said. “ Salut, chérie . You here for Mama Nadine?” To Sarah, he sounded exactly like a white man, too, except for the words she couldn’t understand. Cajuns always talk funny, Papa said. Besides, Papa had told her this man was Mama Nadine’s son, who was being schooled up north by his rich white daddy. He had a strange-sounding Cajun name Sarah couldn’t remember, but he’d been nice to her when she was here last.
    Silently, Sarah nodded.
    “Come on inside then. You came all this way your lone self?”
    Again, Sarah nodded, stepping out of the rain and flinging droplets of water from her face. Her dress, which was clinging to her tightly, dripped on the straw mat. Sarah’s teeth clicked uncontrollably. “I g-gotta see M-Mama Na—”
    “And you will, little one, soon’s I find you a blanket. Looks like that rain caught you unawares. Un moment .”
    Mama Nadine’s house had three rooms, or maybe even more, Sarah guessed. This room in front had a small table and soft chairs for sitting, and a shelf full of books. Mama had only one book—an old Bible Ole Missus had given her a long time ago, even though Mama didn’t know how to read the words in it—but Sarah had never seen so many books in one place. There were big candles everywhere, most of them lit to give the room light. There was a strange scent around her; something sweet was burning in the air.
    “Somebody out there at my door?” Mama Nadine’s voice called from the back.
    The man, who draped a sour-smelling blanket over Sarah’s head, called something back