(THIRD BOOK in the Golden Girl Series)
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"Till death do you part?" The priest finishes off with.
"I do," I answer - knowing how ready I am to die with this man.
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You've been on Amber Marigold's journey since she arrived at Tygerwell. Now join...
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A/N: This chapter deals with the subject of violence and rape. You can skip if you are uncomfortable. You only have to read the end.
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"But, Grandmaw, I thought ye said Foxglove can kill people," I expressed with mah arms crossed. There was a piece of curly red hair danglin' in mah face, but I couldn't bother to tuck it behind mah ear.
Grandma and I were both in the shed behind our hoose, sortin' through herbs like we do every week, but I've just been given the news that Foxglove apparently ain't the only poisonous flower out there.
"Aye my wee tube, there are plenty of poisons. Common plants like Oleander and Mistletoe could be used or even Hydrangeas. There are many ways to kill a person," Grandma explained. I watched her dice up some herbs, her glossy brown eyes fixed on the task as she added, "Sometimes ye don' even need poison to kill someone."
"What? How does that work?" I asked amazed.
"You'll know when yer older," Grandma laughed, "Besides it's much more useful to learn herbs that can save a person. Come, come here over to the English Marigold. Ye can dry it up and use it to rub onto insect bites to reduce pain and swellin'," Grandma explained, gesturin' to the dried orange flowers dangin' from one of the posts keepin' the shed up.
I yawned in boredom. "I don' care about healin' flowers. I want to know more about the dangerous ones," I explained.
"Ye'll need to know how to take care of yerself for when I'm gone, Venessa!"
"Pfft, yeah, ye ain't dyin' anytime soon, ye old hag," I laughed, "Yer goin' to outlive us all."
Getting distracted, I reached for the foxglove plant on the counter and went to pick it up, but a sharp voice made me stop.
"Ey, ye better listen! I'll give ye a skelpit lug!" Grandma threatened.
I immediately dropped mah hand and looked at grandma with innocent eyes. Grandma was never one to not follow up on her threats. Mah ear still hurts from the last time she slapped me silly.
"Oi, ye look jus' like ye father. What a meddlesome lad," Grandma sighed, "And to think ye're only fourteen. What will I do when yer old enough to bring home some lad."
