When Rose Wakes Read Free Page B

last night.”
    Aunt Suzette sighed as though with relief. “I’m sorry, Rose, but anyone who tells you they can ward off dreams is just lying. Nightmares may upset you, but they won’t make you sick. Those wards keep malicious spirits away.”
    Rose arched an eyebrow. “Auntie, you don’t really think some kind of evil spirits are going to make me sick again. Please tell me you don’t believe that.”
    Almost sheepishly, Aunt Suzette shrugged. “Superstition is more about tradition than anything else. I believe in luck, though, good and bad, and sometimes we make our own. My mother believed things that would make you roll your eyes, but to her they were no joke.”
    “I’m sorry,” Rose said. “I’m not trying to insult you.”
    “Of course not. I think they’re a little silly, too, but I can’t help believing good thoughts help keep the bad things away, and I just want you to get better so you can come home.”
    Rose smiled. “Me, too.” She speared a piece of melon on her fork and popped it into her mouth. “I wish I remembered France.”
    Her aunts had told her all about their house in Beaulieu-sur-Mer, a small seaside village in France, where the three of them had lived until they had taken Rose to the United States to see if the American doctors would have any better luck at waking her from her coma than the French physicians had. The house had been sold so that they could buy a place here in Boston, but her auntspromised that they would bring her back to France to visit sometime. They seemed confident she would remember, then.
    “Anything else you need, darling?” Aunt Suzette asked.
    Rose hesitated.
    “Yes, go on,” Aunt Suzette prodded.
    “Answers,” Rose replied, hating the edge in her voice. She loved her aunts, but they could be frustratingly flighty and seemed reluctant to tell her too much about her life, as if somehow that would be cheating. “I want to know more about what my life was like before my accident.”
    Aunt Suzette narrowed her eyes with concern, her gaze sad and sincere. “Ask away, sweetie. I’ll tell you whatever I can.”
    Rose perked up. Up until now her aunts had doled out information in small portions, concerned about rushing her. But Rose thought that knowing whatever she could about her life before could only help jar loose some real memories. The doctor still seemed confident that the past would come back to her eventually, as part of a natural healing process, but Rose didn’t want to wait.
    “My horse,” she said.
    “Yvette,” Aunt Suzette replied, nodding.
    Rose smiled. “Why did I name her that?”
    “I don’t know where the name came from originally, but when you were a small girl you had a stuffed animal, a horse, and you called it Yvette. When your father gave you a horse of your own, you named her after the doll.”
    Rose tried hard to remember, to imagine herself riding a horse, or crushing that stuffed animal to her chest, but nothing would come.
    “What color was she?”
    “Yvette was a chestnut mare, and tall,” Aunt Suzette said, glancing away. “Probably too tall for a girl your age.”
    Rose wanted to ease her aunt’s conscience. The horse had thrown her, and the injury had resulted in her coma, but by all accounts she had been an excellent rider and the horse a gentle animal. There was no way that her aunts could have predicted she would be thrown.
    “It’s not your fault, Auntie.”
    Aunt Suzette smiled.
    “Tell me more about our house,” Rose said.
    That lifted her aunt’s spirits. “It was such a beautiful place. From the top floor, we had a lovely view of the sea. You used to help me in the garden. We worked hard but always laughed. You and I are very silly, Rose, and I love you for it. Fay can be so grim sometimes.
    “The front steps were stone. It was an old house. We had high ceilings and beautifully carved archways leading from room to room on the first floor. The kitchen—I had old copper pots I made fudge in. I wish