Briar Rose by Jana Oliver Read Free Book Online Page A

this for my birthday,’ she said, extending her arm so he could admire the bracelet.
    Pat peered at it and then smirked. ‘Is that an axe murderer on that thing?’
    ‘What? No, silly. That’s the huntsman from “Snow White”.’ She pointed at another charm. ‘This is a prince, probably from “Cinderella” or
“Sleeping Beauty”. And that’s a flying horse and a—’
    Pat leaned over and stole a kiss, breaking her recitation. Her body began to glow at the attention, especially when he pulled her closer on the bench seat.
    ‘How’s about we go for a walk down by the mill?’ he suggested.
    The warm glow from the kiss fizzled and died. The mill was the last place Briar wanted to go. It was dark and kind of creepy, and Pat had no idea that she’d nearly drowned there. But how
could he? He wasn’t a local boy.
    Her old fears went to war with her hopes. In the end, the hopes won.
    ‘Ah . . . OK.’ It wasn’t like they were going into the river or anything.
    After discarding their trash, they headed down the tree-lined path to Potter’s Mill. Briar found herself shivering at the thought of their intended destination. When Pat’s arm curved
round her waist, she tried to relax. This was exactly what she’d been wishing for ever since the last day of school. She’d be safe with him. Why ruin it?
    Briar knew everyone was checking them out as there were whispers behind them. She shot a glance over her shoulder and found some of the kids pointing and snickering. What was that all about?
Then she saw Joshua and he was frowning, his hands clenched at his side.
    Briar stumbled and that made her pay closer attention to the uneven path before them. In the distance, she could hear the river coursing over the sluice gate, the rattle and clank of the aged
wheel as it turned. The mill had been built before the Civil War by slaves from the Ashland Plantation, and while damaged by the Union troops during the battle of Bliss, it had only ceased grinding
grain in the early 1930s. Though a local group of preservationists had restored it as best they could with limited funds, it was still weather-worn in many places.
    As the sound of moving water grew louder, it was nearly impossible not to remember that summer day ten years before. She and Saralyn, who had been five at the time, had wandered away from a
family picnic and found themselves by the mill. It was something they were never supposed to do as alligators sometimes sunned themselves on the banks.
    Oblivious to the danger, they’d clambered up and down the stairs, proclaiming the mill was their castle. Joshua had joined them and it’d been great fun until Saralyn had lost her
footing. Briar had grabbed for her, but in the process had hit the railing that overlooked the river. It had broken in two, pitching her into the churning water below, leaving Saralyn safe far
above.
    Over the years Briar had heard different versions of the tale, often by people who hadn’t been there that day. How Joshua had pushed her into the water, how both of them had died. How it
was all her fault that they were at the mill in the first place, which was another lie.
    While her cousin ran for help, Joshua had gone into the water after her. It had been him who had drowned, not her. She still remembered that part as clearly today as when it had happened,
Joshua’s hand clutching on to hers, his brown hair floating around him in the churning water as they were pushed along by the current. That strange jolt of sensation that had passed between
them right after he’d stopped fighting and given in.
    Briar was still breathing when she was pulled from the river, crying, begging them to help her friend. It’d been her uncle who had done CPR and brought Joshua to life. Finally he’d
coughed and sputtered and choked out a bellyful of water. Then Joshua had begun to cry.
    No matter the tale or who told it, from that day on, the river had been Briar’s mortal enemy. From that point