“We know the other poem is called November. What is this one called?” Asher asks.
“Anticipation,” I tell them and get a shiver down my spine when I read them the poem.
'Coming events cast their shadow before.'
I had a vision in the summer light—
Sorrow was in it, and my inward sight
Ached with sad images. The touch of tears
Gushed down my cheeks:—the figured woes of years
Casting their shadows across sunny hours.
Oh, there was nothing sorrowful in flowers
Wooing the glances of an April sun,
Or apple blossoms opening one by one
Their crimson bosoms—or the twittered words
And warbled sentences of merry birds;—
Or the small glitter and the humming wings
Of golden flies and many colored things—
Oh, these were nothing sad—nor to see Her,
Sitting beneath the comfortable stir
Of early leaves—casting the playful grace
Of moving shadows in so fair a face—
Nor in her brow serene—nor in the love
Of her mild eyes drinking the light above
With a long thirst—nor in her gentle smile—
Nor in her hand that shone blood-red the while
She raised it in the sun. All these were dear
To heart and eye—but an invisible fear
Shook in the trees and chilled upon the air,
And if one spot was laughing brightest—there
My soul most sank and darkened in despair!—
As if the shadows of a curtained room
Haunted me in the sun—as if the bloom
Of early flow'rets had no sweets for me,
Nor apple blossoms any blush to see—
As if the hour had brought too bright a day—
And little birds were all too g*y!—too g*y!—
As if the beauty of that Lovely One
Were all a fable.—Full before the sun
Stood Death and cast a shadow long before,
Like a dark pall enshrouding her all o'er,
Till eyes, and lips, and smiles, were all no more!
“That sounds a lot more threatening than the last poem he left,” Asher says, looking at his dad. I look toward Mr. James and notice that his face is blank. “What do we do?”
“I need November to tell me about the delivery and anything that she can remember from when she was attacked in New York. I also need to know if either of you have noticed anyone out of place or someone who made you uncomfortable.” I look from Asher’s dad to him and see that his body is still ready for attack. I lean forward on the counter and grab his shirt at the back and drag him toward me. Once he’s close, I wrap my arms around his middle and lay my head on his back. I feel his hands rest on top of mine then he takes a deep breath and his body relaxes.
“I need to go out to the car and get my note book. When I come back in, we can talk.”
Asher turns, facing me and pulls me closer to him. “I'm really sorry about this,” I mumble into his chest, letting his smell relax me.
“Don’t apologize about this. It isn’t your fault.”
“Maybe I should lea—”
The words are not even out of my mouth before he cuts me off. “Don’t even f**king think about leaving me.” His arms go super tight around me like he is expecting me to vanish into thin air. “I will track your ass down and drag you back here. I want you to listen to me.” His hands hold my face, and his lips come closer to mine. “Dad is on this. I'm on this and now I'm putting Kenton on this. We will find out what’s going on and who is doing this. And while we’re doing that, you will be safe.”
“I would die if something happened to you because of me,” I whisper my biggest fear and then do a face plant into his shirt.
“Baby,” he says, running his hand down my back. “The worst thing that could happen is if you left me and I had no way of knowing that you were okay. I won’t let anything happen to you and I will make sure that nothing happens to me either. Do you think that I would let something happen to myself, knowing that there are about six guys that I know waiting to take my place?”
“You know you’re crazy, right?” I ask in all seriousness. Only he would say one of the reasons he was staying safe is so random, non-existing guys don’t try to take me away.
“No, I'm selfish. I know what sleeps next to me every night. You are mine, November. Until the day you leave this earth, you are mine. And I take my responsibility very seriously.” What could I say to that? Before I say anything, his dad comes in the front door carrying a notebook and a file.
“Alright, let’s get started,” Mr. James says, setting his stuff down on the island and pulling out the stool to take a seat. Asher kisses my forehead then jumps up next to me on the counter, grabbing my hand.
I tell them about the delivery then about the attack. Then I remember the roses that had been outside the apartment door when I got home from the hospital. I had never gotten flowers, and my mom would get them all the time from whatever man she was seeing, so I assumed they were for her. I took them into the apartment and left them on the counter. I never even thought about them again until that moment.
“White roses,” I whisper to myself.
“Pardon?” Mr. James asks.
“White roses were left outside my apartment door after I was attacked. But I don’t think they were for my mom.”
“Why do you say that?” Mr. James asks, and I remember my mom’s shocked face when she opened the card.