Fading Rose Read online

  Table of Contents

  Fading Rose

  Publishing History

  Praise for Fading Rose…

  Dedication

  Other Titles by Tamrie Foxtail:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  A word from the author...

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Fading Rose

  by

  Tamrie Foxtail

  Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Fading Rose

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Tamrie Foxtail

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tamra Westbury

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Champagne Rose Edition, 2013

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-037-6

  Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Fading Rose…

  “Tamrie Foxtail has written a beautiful tale of hope, healing, and the kind of love that makes life worth living. Fading Rose surprises and inspires with a groundbreaking storyline, toe-curling romance, and relatable characters that feel more like friends. I will always remember this incredible story, and look forward to reading more from this gifted author.”

  ~Anna Kittrell, award-winning author of

  Skinbound and Another Man’s Treasure,

  both available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Dedication

  On the morning of April 19th, 2003, my husband and I received a long-awaited call. A perfect-match kidney was being flown to the hospital.

  Family and friends joined our daughters and me in the waiting room. We bowed our heads as a family elder led us in prayer. While we prayed for my husband and the transplant team, we prayed also for the family of the donor.

  Fading Rose is dedicated to that family. We never learned their names, though they remain in our hearts and our prayers.

  To all the families who have donated a loved one's organs, and to everyone who has marked “donor” on their driver's license or made clear to their family their wish to donate—Thank you. Our lives, and the lives of countless others, are brighter because of you.

  Other Titles by Tamrie Foxtail:

  The Bone Bride

  (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll)

  Prologue

  Aubrey Rae tugged on the dark red door of her shop, fighting the wind that was determined to keep it closed.

  The door finally opened enough for her to slip inside, her flowing skirt barely clearing the door before the wind slammed it shut.

  “I expect the wicked witch to fly past any minute,” Tess said.

  “Don’t even joke about tornadoes.”

  Tess looked up from the cell phone, her fingers paused over the letters. “Relax. Who ever heard of a tornado in January?”

  Aubrey stuffed her purse behind the counter. “Thought you didn’t like to text?”

  “I don’t. But lately it’s the only way I can get my boys to talk to me. How’d it go at the doctor’s?”

  Aubrey shrugged, avoiding her friend’s eyes. “You know.” She made a vague motion in Tess’s direction.

  “No, I don’t,” Tess said, sounding very much like the mother of teens.

  “My creatine’s almost seven.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “They’d like it a little lower.” She didn’t tell Tess that a normal level was around one.

  Aubrey hung her coat on a wall hook. “Any buyers?”

  “Yeah, I wrote everything down on that pad next to the register.” She put on her own coat and took her purse from behind the counter.

  “I’m worried about you, Aubrey. You don’t look good.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You know what I mean. Your coloring’s not good and you’re puffy. Not to mention you have about as much fizz as a day old soda.”

  “I have dialysis tonight.”

  Tess paused, her hand on the door knob. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”

  The frog motion sensor gave out a loud “Ribbit,” when she opened the door.

  “Shit fire. Shit fire.”

  Aubrey rolled her eyes at the parrot. “Thanks, Einstein. You’re a big help.”

  Einstein had been her grandfather’s parrot. She’d inherited the bird, along with his colorful vocabulary, when her grandfather passed away six months earlier.

  She took a peppermint from the little dish on the counter, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. She needed something to ease the dryness and the tight, painful feeling in her throat.

  “You might start getting things in order,” her doctor had said that morning. “Just in case we don’t find a kidney in time.”

  “Plan my funeral, you mean.”

  “I won’t lie to you, Aubrey. There are thousands of people on the list for a kidney. It’s a long wait.”

  She knew the parrot would be cared for. Tess’s boys adored Einstein. No problem there. Neither of her brothers was interested in running an antique toy store. She supposed they’d sell the building and its contents, split the money and return to their jobs and their families. Her passing would barely make a ripple in their lives.

  Chapter One

  Four Months Later

  “No,” Jim Tanner said. “Your left.”

  Vicky let out a dramatic sigh. “What difference does it make?”

  Jim lowered the camera and tried for patience. “If you’ll take two steps to the left the sunlight will accent your beauty.”

  Vicki took two quick steps to her left. “Here?”

  “Perfect.” He raised the camera as she produced a sultry smile.

  The sunlight did accent her blond hair and high cheekbones, but what he was really after was the rock grouping in the background. He snapped a few pictures of Vicki and several of the rocks.

  “Damn it.”

  “Now what?” Vicki asked in her best long-suffering tone.

  “Trash.” He started toward the bit of white poking out from behind one of the rocks.

  “Should you be picking up someone’s trash? No telling what it is.”

  “A doll.” He scooped it up.

  “What is it, a Barbie doll?”

  “Nope.” He traced a finger over the doll’s features. “It’s almost like bone china, but there’s not a chip in it.”

  Jim looked up, holding the doll in one hand and shielding his eyes with the other.

  “You’re not thinking someone dropped it from the top of Mount Scott. The road’s closed. We’re the only ones i
nsane enough to walk up it.”

  He pinched a bit of the material, holding it up for her to see. “Look how dirty it is. I think it’s been here for a little bit.”

  “It’s in a wedding dress.”

  He held it out to her. “Do you want it?”

  “No.”

  He canted his head to one side, studying the doll. “I don’t think it would photograph that well. There’s a toy store in Lawton. I’ll drop it by Monday evening, then we’ll go to dinner.”

  “Why on earth would you remember a toy store?”

  “Because of the name.”

  ****

  Aubrey glanced up from the paper when the door opened.

  “Hi. Can I help you?”

  The man held out his hand. “I’m Jim Tanner.”

  When their palms touched a low, warm current ran up Aubrey’s arm.

  Aubrey hoped her cheeks weren’t red. As fair skinned as she was a blush became extremely noticeable. She let go of his hand. The woman with him stood with her hands clasping the straps of a brown leather purse.

  “You may have noticed the shop is called Tanner’s Antique Toys. You a long lost relative I didn’t know about?” she teased.

  “Not unless you’re originally from Wyoming. My dad moved us here when I was fourteen.”

  “My family’s been in Oklahoma forever.” She could picture him in Wyoming. He had that cowboy look—tall and lean with fine lines at the corners of his eyes.

  “I’m not into antiques or toys,” he said self-depreciatively. “I remembered your store because it said Tanner’s.”

  “She’s not interested in your life history,” the woman with him said.

  Actually, Aubrey was interested. In fact, she wouldn’t mind knowing everything there was to know about him.

  He looked a little annoyed. His irritation seemed aimed at the woman, not at her.

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out an object covered with dirty white lace.

  “It’s some kind of doll,” the woman said, in a bored voice. “We found it up at Mount Scott. Can you tell what, if anything, it’s worth?”

  Aubrey took the doll. Its ivory colored limbs were smooth and cool to the touch. The delicate facial features had been carved with care. She lifted the tangled brown hair.

  “Someone put the hair on with a glue gun,” she murmured.

  “Will wonders never cease,” the woman said.

  “Vicki.” Jim Tanner’s soft voice spoke volumes. The woman pressed her lips together and folded her arms across her chest.

  “Shit fire.”

  Aubrey’s cheeks flamed. The woman’s jaw dropped and Jim Tanner burst out laughing.

  “I’m sorry,” Aubrey stammered. “He was my grandfather’s parrot. I inherited him six months ago, and I can’t get him to clean up his language.”

  “Should you have him in a toy store?” Vicki asked.

  “I sell antique toys. Most of my customers are adult collectors. And I make most of my sales online.”

  Tess was a web designer and cut Aubrey a huge break.

  “I can see why. This place is so dark I don’t know how anybody can see what they’re looking for.”

  “Vicky,” Jim said, “Why don’t you wait for me in the car? I won’t be long.” He held out the keys. She snatched them out of his hand and stomped off.

  “I’m sorry. She’s not usually like that.”

  “I understand,” Aubrey said, although she didn’t. “It is dark in here. I have two lights out, and I just haven’t gotten around to dragging out the ladder to fix them.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your ladder? While you look over the doll I’ll replace the lights.”

  She considered saying no, but the truth was she’d been feeling a little shaky and didn’t think getting up on the ladder herself was a good idea.

  “There,” she said, pointing to a small storage room at the back of the store. “The bulbs are there, too.”

  While he drug out the ladder and changed the two florescent lights, she undressed the doll, checking it for damage.

  “This thing is amazing,” she said. “Judging from the way the whalebone has aged, it’s pretty old, but I can’t find a nick or a scratch anywhere. And did you see this?”

  “Not in the habit of undressing dolls.” He popped the florescent light into place and shadows began retreating.

  “Hey, dude,” Einstein cackled.

  Jim laughed. “Your grandfather taught him to say ‘dude?’”

  “No. My friend Tess has two boys who earn a little money by cleaning for me on Saturday. They taught him a few words.”

  “And what have you taught him?”

  “Nothing. He doesn’t listen to me.” She traced the carving on the doll’s chest. “Someone carved a bas-relief rose into the doll’s chest. It’s beautiful.”

  Jim moved the ladder under the second burnt out light, then walked over to the wooden counter that had once graced a turn-of-the-century candy store. He leaned over to look at the doll.

  She was too aware of him next to her. He smelled of winter air and a cologne that made her think of fresh snow and some kind of spice. The sleeve of his denim jacket brushed her arm.

  “Why would someone take the time and effort to carve that when it’s hidden by the doll’s clothes?

  “The sailors made scrimshaw pieces to occupy their time. Some of them are very simple and some are incredibly intricate. Some sailor might have intended this as a gift for his daughter. Perhaps he carved the rose because that was the child’s name.” She looked up to find him studying her with dark blue eyes. The man was beautiful.

  Aubrey’s eyes were locked on his. She didn’t think she could look away if she wanted to. His gaze shifted a few inches lower, to her mouth. Was he going to kiss her?

  A country song began to play. Aubrey gave herself a hard mental shake as Jim reached for the phone clipped to his belt.

  “Give me a minute, Vicki,” he said into the phone. “Bye.”

  “Your wife?” Please, please, please say she’s your sister, cousin. Anything but wife or girlfriend.

  “We’re not married. Let me get the other light in before she calls again.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her today.”

  “Would you like to sell the doll on commission? I have to make an effort to find the owner first.”

  Selling an item on commission was an offer she rarely made, and she hated to admit, even to herself, that she was making it now in hopes of seeing him again.

  “That’s fine.” He snapped the second light into place and started down the ladder.

  He put the ladder up for her, stopped by the counter, and handed her a business card. “My cell’s on there. Call me if you hear anything on the doll.”

  ****

  Aubrey glanced up when the frog by the door let out a ribbit.

  “Just the person I want to see. Look at this.” She pulled the doll out from beneath the counter.

  “Whoa! Nice hooters!”

  “Careful,” Tess warned the parrot. “I haven’t started dinner yet and I’m wondering how roast parrot would taste.”

  “Liar, Liar.”

  The two women exchanged a glance and laughed.

  “Your grandfather must have been a hoot,” Tess said, wiping her eyes. “Now what did you want to show me?”

  “This doll. It was brought in yesterday.” She told her about Jim Tanner’s visit.

  “I can look online for mention of the doll.” She wrinkled her nose. “This dress has got to go. I’ll sew something for it. Some of the hair’s missing. I’ll bring some from home.”

  Tess’s hobby was making life-like dolls. She put the porcelain pieces together, painted them and added hair and eyelashes.

  She sat down at Aubrey’s computer and began typing.

  “Wow,” she said ten minutes later. “Your doll has her own website.”

  Aubrey stepped next to her, reading
the screen over Tess’s shoulder.

  “It’s cursed?”

  Tess nodded. “That’s what it says. If you’re selling it on commission for Jim Tanner, does that mean you’re technically sharing ownership of the doll right now? And does that mean you’re sharing the curse?” She hummed the Twilight Zone theme.

  “Thanks,” Aubrey murmured. “Now I’m creeped out. Besides, the doll belongs to whoever lost it.”

  “It’s not lost, girlfriend.” She clicked on the blog link and scrolled to the bottom. “December of last year. ‘I am finally rid of the curse, having found my true love. I wasn’t brave enough to give the doll away or to sell it. I don’t want to pass its curse on to someone else. I have tossed it off Mount Scott. May the doll, and its curse, rest in peace.’”

  Chapter Two

  Vicki’s fingers were cool on his chest, her acrylic nails lightly scraping his skin as she unbuttoned his shirt.

  Jim leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes, trying to enjoy her ministrations. He certainly had in the past.

  She straddled his thighs. If he opened his eyes he’d be able to look down her low cut blouse at her considerable cleavage. By all rights he should be hard as a rock, so why wasn’t he?

  When Allan Jackson started singing “Summertime Blues” Jim nearly let out a sigh of relief as he reached for his cell phone.

  “Don’t you dare answer your phone.”

  “Hello?”

  Vicki let her breath out in a huff and climbed off him.

  “Who is it?” she whispered.

  He ignored her.

  “Would you believe the doll has a website?” Aubrey’s sweet voice came over the phone.

  “There’s a lost doll website?”

  Her laughter made him want to laugh with her.

  “It’s a site for this particular doll. The thing’s hundreds of years old. It’s supposed to be cursed.”

  “Please don’t tell me whoever touches it dies.” He was only half-joking. Jim didn’t like to call himself superstitious but he could admit to himself that Friday the thirteenth and broken mirrors made him a little uneasy.

  “Nothing like that,” Aubrey said. “According to the website whoever betrays the owner of the doll will suffer. Only true love breaks the curse. Even if the doll is sold or given away the curse remains in play until it’s broken. The last owner of the doll claimed it wasn’t made of whalebone, but human bone. She doesn’t say how she knows that. She found her true love but didn’t want to pass the curse on to someone new, so she threw the doll from the top of Mount Scott.”