Rigby’s Apothecary
Written By: Robin S. Bloom
The Victorian structure at the end of Junedale Lane housed Rigby’s Apothecary on its first floor and its proprietors, Alfred and Jane Rigby on its second.
Alfred Rigby was a fixture behind the Apothecary counter. Peering through wire-rimmed spectacles, he concocted tinctures, powders, and salves from ingredients hidden by brown glass and peeling yellowed labels.
Patrons had more faith in Alfred than their own doctor, and would whisper their secret maladies to him with complete trust that he keep them confidential.
Jane kept the front of the shop, selling a variety of teas, soaps and creams, made from her prized roses. Warmhearted Jane loved to mollycoddle the town’s children by handing out rock candy and peppermints. She kindly offered butter bread to the passing hobo, and mothered abandoned kittens left at her doorstep.
First time callers to the Apothecary noted the Rigbys sharing a loving gaze or tender touch, and assumed Alfred and Jane were husband and wife, but to their embarrassment learned the Rigbys were brother and sister.
In Jane’s fortieth year the greening of spring failed to lighten her step, instead it grew heavy and labored. Her trim, tidy figure disappeared under a loose smock.
As June rosebuds emerged, Jane was absent, leaving a weary Alfred to run the Apothecary alone.
“Jane is unwell,” he said.
When peculiar cries came from upstairs, loyal patrons ignored them, although some ventured to ask their source. Alfred explained it away as a sickly kitten Jane was nursing. Most accepted this, laid aside any suspicions, and said nothing more, for they owed the Rigbys their silence.
When early summer warmed the roses into full bloom, Jane returned to her post wearing sleepless raccoon circles ‘round her eyes.
And if one listened for the peculiar cries, they were silent — buried beneath the soft garden soil, blanketed by soft fragrant rose petals.
Robin S. Bloom, a native Pennsylvanian, lives in a small town between the Poconos and the Anthracite Coal Region.She is a watercolor artist who also likes to dip her pen into ink, and says writing is like painting with words.Inspired by her rural roots, her down-home stories have an underlying darkness she calls “Cozy-Creepy.”