Carrot

Chapter 3

Forsythia Forsythe eyed her reflection critically. Everything seemed to be in place, but she wanted her appearance absolutely perfect, to give her soon-to-be fiance all the encouragement he’d need.

“Carrot baby, you don’t know what you’re getting into,” she whispered.

Carrot had been courting Forsythia for six months to the day, paying as much attention to her as a young man with two jobs and a thirteen-year-old sister to take care of was able to.

Ah, Alissa. The girl was a constant annoyance to Forsythia, always popping up when least welcome—like when the older girl was trying to take her relationship with carrot to the next level. Forsythia had big plans—namely to be married by the time she was eighteen—and sweet, redheaded Carrot Connolly was just the hard-working husband that she wanted. Plus, once she’d taken him to bed, there was litle doubt in her mind that she’d be able to pursuade him to put his younger sister in an orphanage or something like that.

The only difficulty was Carrot himself. The boy seemed perfectly content to stay single, treating Forsythia as if she were some delicate flower to be admired at a distance.

“Well, this flower is ready for a little roughness,” Forsythia informed the mirror. Taking one more glance over her clothing and hair, she flounced off to an appointment with her victim.

---

Carrot Connolly was bored. Alissa was helping Mrs. McCleary with her laundry for the afternoon, and his date was late. The redhead pulled a battered, tarnished watch out of his vest pocket and examined it.

“Nearly half an hour,” he muttered. “What in the name of apples is she doing?” He was about to pull out his cat’s cradle when a slender girl dressed in a brown frock appeared.

“Forsythia,” he acknowledged with a short bow. She giggled.

“You’re so formal,” she scolded. “Do you know what today is?”

“The twenty-third of October, 1879?”

Forsythia giggled again. “That too, but it’s also our six month aniversary of walking out together.”

“Is it really?” Carrot asked. “How time flies.”

Forsythia nodded, internally groaning. Her mother was right—men really were useless.

“Indeed,” she said.

There was an awkward pause.

“Well?” Forsythia asked after a while.

Carrot blinked. “Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me something?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. What did you think I was going to ask you?”

Forsythia allowed her features to look disappointed rather than exasperated. “You were going to ask me to marry you, weren’t you?”

The boy’s face was a picture of shocked embarrassment.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “You wanted me to propose?”

Forsythia nodded. Apparently Carrot wasn’t as hopeless as she’d thought.

“I had no idea—I don’t know—I haven’t—I can’t—” Carrot was babbling, and he knew it. “I can’t marry you,” he said finally.

“Whyever not?”

Carrot looked truly appologetic. “Because I don’t love you,” he muttered.

Forsythia was dumbfounded.

“WHAT?”

---

“So, I don’t think we’ll be seeing Forsythia anymore,” Carrot concluded.

Alissa wiped her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown. “That’s a shame. She was pretty. You liked her, didn’t you?”

Carrot nodded. “I did, but not enough to marry her. I don’t think there will ever be a woman that I’ll like enough to marry.”

“Why not?”

“That, little sister, is a story for another night,” Carrot said with a sad sort of smile.