His Golden Rose

Max’s gray eye scanned the area while he silently made his way to a destination he had in mind.

His head was busy contemplating the things he needed to buy, and how he was going to carry them back, when a sudden commotion caught his attention.

A few meters in front of him was a woman lying on the muddy ground, thanks to her two spilled buckets of water.

Behind her stood two women about her age with rather amused expressions. Something gleamed in their eyes—something he didn’t appreciate and chose to dismiss right away.

He scanned the area and frowned; nobody was bothering to help the poor lady. It looked like they were actually enjoying the scene, just like how they enjoyed his eye patch.

He shook his head with disappointment and pushed his feet toward the woman.

“Next time, stay out of our way,” one of the standing women hissed.

He raised his brow and watched the two women walk away with sly smirks on their plain faces.

“This stupid trait is everywhere,” he mumbled to himself as he advanced toward the now sitting woman.

He fixed his gaze solely on her, and as he got closer, he started to notice things he hadn’t when he was far—or perhaps he hadn’t paid much attention.

Since she turned her back, he first noticed how her strawberry-blonde wavy locks shone under the sun. She had beautiful healthy hair—thick, long, shiny, and silky.

When he finally halted behind her, he could tell she was angry, but he hoped he wouldn’t be at the receiving end since he wished nothing but to help.

He was still new; he didn’t know how things worked around here. But he certainly wouldn’t walk past a person being bullied. He extended his hand.

“Here, let me help you,” he murmured, silently hoping she wasn’t one of the women that’d cringe away because of how terrible he looked.

Every woman dreams to be rescued by an imperial prince or a knight in shining armor, not a poor peasant who looks nothing short of an alms collector.

But it all didn’t matter; he was used to the stares full of disgust and belittling. He braced himself for the worst with a clear conscience. If she’d reject his help, it would still be okay.

She hurriedly turned his way and they both froze. He wasn’t ready to be captured by the most beautiful pair of blue orbs he had ever seen.

They gave a slight shock, but yet her eyes were expressive, captivating, and full of innocence. They glistened with—wonder?

He was astonished! This woman wasn’t looking at him like he was a piece of trash—far from it.

“Please?” he pressed with a newfound strength.

Without tearing her gaze, she accepted his hand, and he pulled her up, ignoring the sparks he felt from the contact.

Who is this woman? he thought. Why was she looking at him like that? He wasn’t used to it, not from the women he’d met so far.

There was no disgust in her eyes, nor repulsion. Quite the opposite: there was acceptance and interest. He felt worthy—important just by looking in her eyes.

He noticed her reddening cheeks before she tore her gaze from him and stared at the ground.

He slowly took in her flawless, beautiful rose-beige skin; even though it was currently smeared by mud stains, it still glowed under the bright morning sun’s rays.

Her long-sleeved white blouse was smeared with mud, along with most areas of her dark-blue dirndl.

His eyes immediately fell to her apron. He visibly relaxed when he saw that the knot of the apron was tied to her left—a sign that she was a single woman.

Max, stop it, he coached himself.

He noticed that she crouched to retrieve her buckets, and he immediately joined her, reaching for one while she carried the other.

They both stood upright again, and this time he was adamant about getting rid of the tense air between them.

“Are you all right?” he inquired, breaking the chilling ice.

She instantly looked up and captured his gaze again. She was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Something about her eyes captivated him in ways he never thought possible. They were breathtaking.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She was shy, he noticed. But she was in no condition to go back to that group. He didn’t see the reason to.

“Let me help you.”

He extended his free hand toward the bucket she held. She glanced at his hanging hand and looked up again, puzzled.

“Please?” He smiled.

A full minute passed before she finally handed him the bucket and watched him with surprise as he walked past her, toward the well where the girls were still looking at her—at them—with sick amusement.

“Excuse me, ladies,” he declared when he got closer.

They parted, letting him pass and take what he needed.

Rosamund remained rooted in the same spot, looking at the strange man—who the girls were talking ill of just minutes ago—helping her refill her buckets.

He hurriedly filled them and effortlessly lifted them before trekking toward her. When he stood before her again, he asked her, “Show me the way.”

For the first time since they’d laid eyes on each other, she smiled. Max felt his heart pound as he took in the beautiful sight before him. Right then, he knew he was smitten. This woman had him completely lovestruck.

She took a step back, twirled, and walked in a new direction. He followed closely behind. When they reached her home, he lowered the buckets at the entrance just beside the small bench and turned to regard her.

“Thank you,” she said with a small smile.

“You're welcome. It’s nothing,” he mumbled as the front door flew open and a younger girl with golden-blonde hair came running out. He quickly noticed the striking similarities and figured they must be siblings.

“You’re finally back!” she chirped as she advanced toward her sister, who turned to give her full attention. The woman’s sister gasped, “What happened!”

“It’s nothing,” the woman murmured before turning back to the stranger, who quietly started to retreat without her notice. “Wait…!”

He froze in his tracks and turned around to face the woman. She halted before him and smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Max.” He paused. “How about you?”

“I’m Rosamund.”

Rosamund. He smiled.

***

Eight hours later, Anne carefully placed down a basket full of vegetables in the kitchen area while her sister walked in with another basket.

“I’m hungry,” Anne complained as she made her way toward the table, where a couple of freshly washed clothes were piled by the chair beside it.

Anne silently pulled the clothes and started folding them. They had spent the rest of the day doing laundry by the lake and had snuck in for a swim as well before retiring back home to work on their little farm.

“Don’t worry, there are enough ingredients for a healthy and delicious pottage. Your complaining belly will be filled to the fullest.”

Rosamund winked as she picked some onions, carrots, cabbage, turnips, and garlic from one of the baskets.

“I wish we had meat. I miss meat,” Anne said.

Rosamund sighed. “Me too.” And she continued to prepare their dinner with a distant smile on her face.

Anne noticed her sister’s extra happy mood since that morning, and she was a bit curious.

“You’re quite radiant today,” she started, earning her sister’s puzzled glance. Anne nodded. “You’ve been smiling a lot.”

Her sister grinned. “That’s because we got lucky today. Look at our baskets!”

Anne shook her head. “You came back home muddy and giddy this morning. I never thought tripping and falling with buckets full of water could be fun.”

Rosamund giggled and shrugged. “I never reckoned that either.”

“Hmm…” Anne eyed her sister warily but didn’t pursue the subject any further. She shifted her attention back to their clothes and kept folding them.

About an hour later, the pottage was ready, and Rosamund sat with her sister by the table. She served the thin and runny soup-like meal for both of them before they dug in.

“Careful, flower. It’s still hot.” She frequently coached her hungry little sister, who seemed to be too hungry to care.

It was already dark outside when they finished stuffing their bellies, and they were about to start cleaning the table when a familiar voice boomed from outside.

“ROSAMUUUND!”

Anne’s eyes widened with horror. “He’s here!” she whispered.

Her elder sister pursed her lips as her hands hurriedly gathered the dirty bowls on the table.

“Go to bed, hurry!” Rosamund whispered hoarsely as she lifted the dishes and ran to the other side of the room to place them.

They could hear his heavy footsteps advancing, and Anne bolted to bed. Rosamund made a final inspection around, making sure that everything was in place before she turned and started for the door.

“ROSAA…”

She hurriedly opened the door just when he was about to push it open, and their gazes met. “Yes, Vater!”

She noticed his shoulders slumped with visible relief and his eyes sparkled slightly.

He took a wobbly step forward and she hastily threw her hands around him, slowly guiding him in. As always, she guided him toward his bed and gently sat him down.

“My beautiful daughter…,” he hoarsely slurred as he looked up at her.

“I made some pottage today. Would you like some?” she offered as she kneeled to help him out of his boots.

“Hmm…no doubt it’s delicious. Just like how my Anne used to make it,” he commented with a small smile as tears brimmed his eyes. “My Anne…”

She sighed as she rose from where she’d knelt and moved closer to her crying father. She wrapped her arms around him and slowly rocked him. “But I’m here. I’ll never leave you.”

He nodded while gently pushing her off him and lay down. He turned and faced the wall, his shoulders still shaking as he silently sobbed.

Rosamund wiped away a stray tear that was rolling down her face and softly muttered, “Schlaf schön, Vater.” Sleep well, Father.

No matter how repeatedly she witnessed him in such state, it still hurt.

She cast her gaze on the floor, spun on her heels, and slowly made her way toward her little sister. Rosamund stopped right beside their straw bed and hunkered down.

“Anne…?”

The girl remained stationary, her steady breath causing a small smile to curve on Rosamund’s face. Anne could be quick to fall asleep if she allowed herself to be, just like their father.

Rosamund sighed and stood upright again.

There goes another sleepless night, she thought.

How she wished she had someone to talk to; she had a lot in her chest. How she wished she had someone to cry to; she was human, and she had feelings too.

She cast a sad gaze toward the still steaming pot on the other side of the room.

“I wonder.”

***

Max silently lay on his back, staring at the space above. His thoughts were on no other than the woman he’d met earlier that day.

Only a mere thought of her caused his heart to skip a beat. His hand came up to hold his chest as a small smile crept onto his face.

He was sure he had never felt such a way for anyone in his life. No one had ever captivated him that way. She took his breath away.

He wished to see her again; he wished he’d go to her house tonight and steal just a glance. Perhaps then he’d be able to eat, because now he couldn’t—not since he’d started missing her.

But he wouldn’t. He shook his head. That’d be rude of him. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as a pervert. He couldn’t risk her thinking ill of him. It wouldn’t bear well with his smitten heart.

So he had no choice but to lie on his straw mattress, silently replaying the day’s events, pinning every detail to his brain.

Her beautiful, kind eyes—they were the warmest pair he had ever seen.

What kind of a woman is she? he wondered.

A woman as beautiful as her looking at a person like him the way she did—he’d never thought of it as a possibility.

A woman like that, he thought, ~must have countless worthy suitors chasing after her, fighting for her attention.~

It would be only natural—a woman like that deserved much more, but his silly, selfish heart wasn’t ready to let go. In her eyes, he saw himself worthy, and he’d take that.

She was one in a million, and he wished to get to know her better. He wanted to get close to her—but how?

A silent knock on the door stirred him from his thoughts.

Who could that be at this hour?

He most certainly didn’t have any friends nor acquaintances that’d wish to visit him.

“Only one way to find out,” he muttered as he rose to his feet and strode toward the door.

He slowly reached for the bolt and twisted, then froze on the spot when the door finally flew open. Max gaped at his unexpected visitor.

In front of him stood Rosamund, wearing a fresh blue dirndl while her hands carried a basket with fruits and a covered bowl in the middle.

Their gazes locked.

“Hello, Max.” She murmured with a small smile.