It’s a rosebud in June and the violets in full bloom,
And the small birds are singing love songs on each spray.
—“Rosebud in June,” Traditional Folk Song
After that first chance meeting with Jack, I returned to the woods every night for a week, hoping to see him again. Of course, I could not admit that that’s why I went, even to myself. Instead, I pretended that I needed a certain herb that could only be found by the old ruins. With the moss soft beneath my feet and the moon guiding my way, I stole outside every night. Every night, I waited in vain.
On the eighth night, there was a rustling in the underbrush. I held my breath, hoping that it was Jack, but fearing it was those boys again. Make no mistake, I had taken precautions, like the protection charm of cow’s bone which hung under my bodice, but I was not eager to come face-to-face with their hungry eyes again, their hateful expressions.
But it was not the boys nor was it Jack who came limping out from behind a tree, but a pitiful brown mutt with matted fur. He stood awkwardly on his paw, and looked at me with big, imploring eyes.
“You poor thing.” I bent to inspect his paw closer and found that he had suffered a deep cut in the pad. As meekly as a lamb, he allowed me to pick him up and carry him home, where I made a salve for him and bandaged him up. From that night on, he never left my side. Shadow, I called him.
Shadow proved a most faithful companion, and soon I ceased my night walks looking for Jack. My days were the same: helping with housework, sitting through painfully boring business dinners with my parents and roaming the coast with Shadow. Occasionally a woman from the town would find her way to my cabin in the middle of the night, and I would give her the herbs or charms she needed.
“Margaret,” my mother said one day, bustling down the stairs, “we are out of cream of tartar for the sponge cake, and Molly is busy and can’t go to the store. Your brothers are coming for dinner tonight, so it cannot wait.” She ran a critical eye over my mud-speckled hem and the boots I had been wearing as I harvested seaweed on the beach that morning. “Make yourself tidy, then take this to Pryce’s.”
She pressed a banknote into my hand, and the next thing I knew I was whistling for Shadow, and preparing to make a trip into town.
It was not as if I was a leper, but there was no denying that I had my fair share of whispers about me as I passed by. The same women who came to me in the night to buy herbs and beg my help turned their noses up at me during the day. But I paid no mind; I kept my own counsel and liked it that way. That was, until I had met Jack.
Now, as I took my time strolling down Main Street, I found myself checking my reflection in shop windows to see if my curls were in order. I smiled at the bright-eyed girl that stared back at me. I had a sweetheart! Me! There were few opportunities for a young woman in Tynemouth, but having an admirer gave me wings, set me free from the confines of my mundane life.
Before I stepped into the grocer’s, I beat the dust from my hem and pinched color into my cheeks. I instructed Shadow to stay put, though he would do what he pleased. Then I went inside.
I made an effort to look poised and collected, though I was apprehensive as my gaze landed on Jack standing at the counter. With sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a crisp navy vest over his linen shirt, he looked relaxed and unbothered by the heat. Unlike most of the men in town, he was clean-shaven, and I liked that about him, liked that I could see every inch of his comely face. He was busy with a customer, so I took my time browsing, keeping a corner of my eye trained on the front of the shop. It seemed like an eternity before the woman finally paid for her purchases and Jack bid her a good day. Then we were alone in the shop.
“Well,” he said, coming out from behind the counter, “if it isn’t the witch. I can’t remember the last time I saw you in town.”
“I only come to town when there is something that catches my fancy.”
He raised a brow. “Oh? Something here catches your fancy, then?”
I let his question hang, giving an inconsequential shrug. I was not above a little pettiness; he had made me wait in the woods for him, and now it was my turn to make him wait, to wonder. But what if I had misread him? What if he did not want me after all? I would not hold out my heart, raw and bloody, only to have him dash it on the floor.
“My mother wants cream of tartar,” I said.
“So she sent her daughter, and not the maid?”
“You flatter yourself if you think this errand has anything to do with you, and not the sponge cake that must be baked for my father’s dinner tonight.”
He placed a hand on his heart. “My lady knows how to land a blow,” he said with mock hurt.
“Your lady does not like to be kept waiting,” I said, trying for a light tone that did not betray my hurt.
His eyes registered surprise, then warmed with delight. “Why, little witch, you don’t mean to tell me that you’ve been waiting in the woods for me the past fortnight?”
I scowled, though I was inwardly pleased. So, he had remembered. “Of course not. The cream of tartar, if you please.”
He wordlessly obliged, going to measure out the white powder and sifting it into a little paper packet. When it was paid for and I had slipped it into my bag, I gave him a curt thanks. Throughout our exchange he had been lighthearted and flirtatious. But now, as I turned to leave, he stayed me by the sleeve. I looked down at his large, strong hand on the fawn linen of my dress. When I raised my gaze to meet his, I was startled to see desire smoldering there. “I want to see you again,” he said under his breath. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
My body warmed and my heartbeat quickened. I had no doubt in my mind that he spoke the truth, but I was still sour that I had waited like a fool for him in the woods. If I had thought that the trees and moon gave me power, it was nothing compared to the headiness with which being the object of this man’s desire imbued me.
Jack’s breath smelled of peppermint, and his touch filled me with electricity. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to tilt my face up, to brush my lips against his.
Though every tingling fiber in my body begged me to lean into his touch, even I knew that it was too soon. I carefully took my arm back, and though my heart was pounding and my body aching with desire, walked proud and tall out the door.