by Mimi Barbour
“I would have thought you’d spout ‘love’ as being the most important element that the kids need. You surprise me.”
“There’s a lovely symmetry between loving and trusting, don’t you think? I mean how can anyone truly love someone they have no faith in? Other than children, of course.”
“There’s only been two people in my life that I’ve ever put any faith in. One’s dead and the other drives me batty most days, but I’d trust her with my life.”
“And now you have one more person to add to the list…me.”
“And me for you, my love. I’ll always be there for you.”
So saying, he stepped out from the now parked vehicle, traversed the snowy path to the main door, and stomped onto the front porch of his house. He glanced through the big bay window, which showed his mother surrounded by the trappings of Christmas. The tree lights glowed and the ceiling streamers fluttered, the room a delightful scene for the holidays.
“What an inviting spectacle! Your mother must be wrapping presents. Or so I presume from all the fancy paper and bows flung around the floor. Isn’t she sweet?”
“Her way of reminding me she expects a boot full of parcels to unwrap herself.” He chuckled and stepped into the warmth. First he removed his gloves and then hung up his coat. Finally, he made his way over to the woman ensconced on the sofa, an old photograph album clutched in her hands.
He leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “Hello, Mother. Having fun are you?”
“I tried, I really did, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I thought carrying on with the festivities would help me forget, but it hasn’t worked. Then I remembered the old photograph album and went next door to my storage and dug it out from my cedar chest.” Her eyes were haunted with memories, and her fingers trembled as she lifted them, motioning him to sit. After she saw his eyebrow rise at the mess where she’d indicated for him to settle, she pushed the ribbons and boxes out of the way, clearing him a seat. “Oh, Marcus.”
“Something is wrong, darling. Your mother is most terribly distraught. What in the world could have happened?” Marcus felt Abbie’s worry on behalf of his parent and took a second to be thankful for the kindness inherent in his soul mate.
“I’m sure nothing is so dreadful, Mother, for you to be in such a flap. What happened? You’ve forgotten an old friend’s address and can’t send out a Christmas card?”
“Don’t tease, Marcus. I’ve done a terrible thing. I don’t know where to begin or how to undo it. You’ll be very upset with me, and I can’t bear that to happen. Especially now that we’ve become close again.”
Tears gushed from her eyes, ran over the mascara, and formed two black rivulets on her face. She swiped at them and made an even bigger mess. Marcus took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at her cheeks, but as fast as he cleaned, more poured out.
“Mother, nothing can be this bad. I promise I won’t go back to being a scoundrel, so you can tell me what the problem is. How can I fix things if I don’t know what’s wrong?”
“You can’t fix this mess, my dear. No one can except me. I have to break my promise of silence and tell the truth. Now that I’ve seen the dear girl, she deserves to know her background. Who her parents are. Thank God your father isn’t alive to see the mess I’ve made of everything.”
“Hold it! What’s my father got to do with your problem, and which girl are we talking about?”
“Abbie. The girl in the hospital.”
“Oh! Oh! This doesn’t feel good.”
“Abbie? How do you know about her?” The sharp note in his voice made the distraught woman wince.
“Darling, give over. Let her have a chance to tell you what’s wrong before you jump down her throat. Please, be gentle.”
“I followed you last night when you went to see her, and I’ve been in misery ever since. I’ve wracked my brain, trying every way I know how to come up with an answer to deal with the situation, but it all comes down to telling the truth. And here is the proof.”
“What in heaven’s name are you blathering on about, woman?” Anger started building inside, and he couldn’t cover it up until Abbie influenced him by spreading her calmness. Something in his mother’s expression induced fear that built into a solid wall of worry. The acid in his gut churned, and the urge to grab his mother and shake some sense out of her was nearly overwhelming.
Abbie felt his reactions and used a gentle tone to help him settle down. “Marcus! She’s distraught and not speaking clearly. Surely to goodness, you know how highly strung she is. Flipping out won’t work, so please, talk to her quietly. Stop yelling.”
More tears leaked from between the hands Madeline was using to cover her face. “I shouldn’t have promised, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want your father to find out about what I’d done—he would never have agreed to leave the girl at the orphanage. I knew it to be wrong, but it seemed the easiest choice for everyone involved.”
“Honestly, Mother! I don’t know what you’re talking about, so you must start at the beginning. Who is this in the picture? And why does this man upset you so?”
“That man is Abbie Taylor’s father.” She pointed her finger at the photograph of two people. One was a man who had his arm wrapped around the body of a lovely woman—the lovely woman was definitely his very own mother. “As soon as I saw her, I knew she was his child.”
Everything inside him collapsed. All his bones turned to jelly and numbness took over. He turned to look at the woman beside him, and she seemed to take it as a hint to continue.
“It was wartime, you see? The men were away fighting, leaving the women behind. Life turned brutal overnight for many of us. We tried to carry on, do the best we could. You were just a little boy, and I stayed busy keeping you safe and working our property. We’d started victory gardens, you know, and they were a lot of work.” She stopped and looked his way. Talking had dried up the flow of tears, but her eyes were still drenched. He nodded for her to continue.
Again she dropped her head, becoming entranced with her clasped hands, twisting, trying to mutilate each other. “So I let a few other families move in with me, to give them safe shelter outside London and to help run the place. Only wives, mostly mothers with children, you understand. One day a plane crashed very close by, and we women investigated and found a young German pilot. We carried him to the house and saved his life. His name was Hans. At that time we never knew his last name. The poor bloke wasn’t much older than myself, and he was petrified of being taken a prisoner of war. When the time came, we couldn’t turn him in, so we hid him until his health improved enough for him to escape.”
“You mean—”
“I just couldn’t tell your father about him, or how he’d fallen in love—”
“You just gave Abbie away?”
“I had no choice. I didn’t want to, but it really wasn’t up to me—”
“No, you’ve never taken responsibility for anything, have you?” He slashed his arm down very close to her face when she started to answer and lurched to his feet. “I can’t listen to any more right now. I’m sorry, Mother. You just have no idea of what you’ve done.” He stomped from the room and literally ran up the stairs.
After he left his mother, who’d dissolved in a fit of weeping from his brutal treatment, he hurried to the sanctity of his room and mangled his hair as he sat on the edge of the bed. He turned to the one person left in his life who mattered.
“Abbie, please, talk to me. We need to sort this out.”
Her silence scared him.
“Darling girl, I can feel your pain. It’s killing me. Maybe we can figure out together what this all means. Please open to me.”
****
She knew he needed her, and she’d give anything to have him fix things. Only, how could this tragedy be solved? They were related. She had a stepbrother. If anyone had ever told her before this that she had relatives, she’d have been overjoyed and celebrated. Now this news only broke her h
eart. Sure, they could talk, but how would it help? There was nothing to be done. Other than the possibility that her parents’ medical background might provide them with an answer to her present dilemma, the news devastated her. Oh, God! The faster she could return to her own body, the better.
Leaving him alone to suffer didn’t sit well with her either. Her heart couldn’t handle his anguish along with her own. Too much…it was all too much. To cut the ties would be painful beyond measure, but someone had to do it. He wouldn’t, and she knew it as one knows a truth when it hits them smack dab between the eyes; it would be up to her.
All her life she’d waited for her Prince Charming. She’d kept herself special for the one man who would be hers. That one soul she could admire as well as love. And she’d found him in Marcus, only to lose him again before they even had a chance.
Grateful for knowing she didn’t have to tell him face to face, she proceeded to put her thoughts into words. “Marcus, I really think it’s better, for now, if we stop interacting. Give us both time to absorb the shock. I already know how much I love you, so if it must be as a sister, what can we do? Past events have already set the future in motion. We have no option but to deal with it.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve tried thinking of a way out of this nightmare, but there doesn’t seem to be any. Keep this thought in your heart. I’ll never love another, Sweetheart, not the way I feel about you. Know that. And always know I’ll be here for you, no matter what happens.” She felt the rhapsody of his passion as he allowed his feelings to well up and sweep through his whole being.
For a moment she bathed in the beauty of his love, and then she shut herself off. “ I feel the same, Marcus. Bye for now, sweet man.”
Chapter Thirteen
Earlier than he normally rose, Marcus gave up the pretence of sleeping and left his tousled bed. He decided that since he had no intention of spending time with his mother, the woman who had torn his whole world apart by her unbelievable confession the night before, he had to get out of the house before she could get to him. Prior to turning in, she’d had the audacity to knock at his door, begging for admittance, but he ignored her, and she finally left.
His office, the only place where he could hide and be safe from her, seemed like a haven, except that when he’d tried sneaking off without running into her, he found a note that said she’d left first. The writing was terrible, smudged and difficult to read, while the message made little sense. Seems she’d made up her mind to find some old friends who had to realize that decisions arrived at in moments of stress had far-reaching consequences. What the hell that had to do with him or Abbie he didn’t know and, at this moment, he didn’t care.
Leaving strict instructions to Mrs. Tennyson not to allow anyone to disturb him, including his mother, he paced and brooded the morning away in his office.
Some time later, when the phone rang, he had to admit to feeling relief at the diversion.
“Yes, Mrs. Tennyson?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Chapman, but Dr. Andrews is on the other line and says he has something very important he needs to discuss with you. I tried to put him off, but he insists you’ll want to talk to him. He said to inform you that it’s about Miss Taylor.”
“Yes, I’ll take the call. Put him through.”
“Yes, sir.”
Within a few seconds Marcus heard the doctor’s voice, and his words left him flabbergasted.
“You believe you know the cure to Abbie’s problem? I don’t know what to say. Except that I’m relieved.”
“Mr. Chapman, we shouldn’t get our hopes up too high. If you come to the hospital as soon as possible, I’ll try a little experiment, and we’ll see what happens.”
“Certainly, I’ll come. I do hope you’ve found the answer, Doctor. Let me assure you, it’ll be a huge load off my mind.”
In a short time, Marcus pulled into the parking lot and sat in the car to realign his thoughts. I do want her to be able to return to her own body, Lord. I really do. But I also don’t want to let her go. I can’t bear the thought of not having her being a part of me any longer. It’s unconscionable to imagine my future without her in it, and worse to think of her in the role of sister. But on the other hand, she has a life of her own. I have no right to stand in her way, none whatsoever. Only, how could I live in the same town, be expected to invite her into our family, and not let her see my suffering? You ask a lot, Lord. Maybe too much.
He rubbed his hand over his chest, knowing that the expanding tightness must be stress-related but not knowing how to stop it. The last thing he needed was to have a relapse, so it was essential he calm himself. A few deep breaths seemed to help. Plus the flowing serenity that came from his inside angel eased the building tension.
“Do us a favour then, Marcus. Either you tell Dr. Andrews the real story about what happened this time, or I will. We can’t stay together anymore; it’s impossible under the circumstances. And if the truth will somehow set us free, we need to find out. Even though I’ve tried, I can’t hide my feelings while inside you, and it’s making your suffering worse. Promise me.”
“This infernal situation is…” Her wailing his name stopped his rambling. “Shush, Sweetheart. I promise.”
Knowing he couldn’t waste any more time, he left the car and strode into the hospital, making his way directly to Abbie’s room, where Dr. Andrews waited.
As if drawn by invisible threads, his eyes sought the sleeping beauty on the bed. He sensed her excitement by the strange tingling he experienced, sensations not originating from him.
“We’ll see this through together, Abbie. Don’t you worry.”
“Hello, Mr. Chapman. I’m glad you and Abbie could make it.”
“Excuse me?” Marcus stiffened as if shot in the back.
“I said, I’m glad you and Abbie could make it. I don’t want to startle you, sir, but I do know your secret. You didn’t tell me the whole truth yesterday, did you?” His hesitation left an opening for Marcus to fill. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he shook his head and waited to see where Dr. Andrews was going with his astounding pronouncement.
“Before I can do anything to help you, I need you to confirm one thing. In some way, both you and Abbie had to have been near the roses behind the vicarage bench. Come now. I can’t help you if you won’t confide in me.”
“Yes, you’re right. How incredible that you know we were. She was putting bags over the bushes because she worried they might suffer from the snow. I tried to help her and fell onto the branches.”
“At any time, were you both pricked by the thorns?” The doctor surveyed him over the lenses of his bifocals, his expression serious and astute.
“Now that you mention it, yes, I do believe we were. First Abbie—it was her getting pricked that led me to offer my help.”
Hearing his own throat clear made him smile and rephrase. “Actually, I believe it happened the other way around. She asked for my assistance.”
Dr. Andrews grinned and shocked him by saying, “Don’t let him get away with telling porkies, Abbie. Good for you. Then what happened?”
“Well, if I remember correctly, I fell onto the bush and the same thing happened to me—I got pricked, also. Come to think of it, right after the thorn entered my finger, I felt the first sensations of discomfort. But I didn’t dwell on that because it was right then Abbie collapsed. I fought off the weird reactions so I could get to her as quickly as possible.”
“Only to find her in a coma, while you had an inner guest.”
“Yes, exactly. You do understand.”
“You aren’t the first to have suffered the magic from that same rose bush. There have been others. Thankfully, I’ve managed to help them, and I believe I can help you, also.”
“We’ll do whatever you wish, Doctor. Will it take very long for you to change us back? Or whatever hocus-pocus you need to do for us to separate?”
“No, you’re quite right. It’s like a reversing procedure, i
n a way. To undo the damage, in the past, we’ve taken a thorn from the same bush and pricked both fingers again. Previously, the one important detail was making sure to do it in the same order. Now, I’ve taken the liberty of bringing a branch with a thorn here to the hospital with me. Since the weather is so horrible and the vicarage bush under feet of snow, I thought it would be less of an inconvenience. Only I don’t know if it’ll work, as we’ve always before gone to the actual bush when we attempted to cancel the magic.”
“I can’t imagine it would be easy to carry Abbie past the nurses without them putting up a bit of a fuss.” Marcus chuckled.
“Neither can I, dear fellow, neither can I. Shall we try it, then? You say Abbie pricked her finger first, so here goes.” The doctor lifted her hand and gently pushed the thorn into her finger.
He then passed it to Marcus, who sat at the edge of the bed and caressed the lifeless hand before he jabbed his own.
Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Inside, Marcus felt Abbie’s disappointment and waited to speak until he knew her tears of disappointment wouldn’t clog up his throat.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Chapman. It looks as if we’ll have to take Abbie to the vicarage bench roses after all.”
Thoughts played war in Marcus’ mind. First he decided that the doctor wasn’t a raging lunatic, because he’d known that Marcus possessed Abbie. No one else had a clue about that. Second, if the man said he’d had cases with similar experiences and had overturned the supernatural happening with proper results, who was he to argue. They’d run out of options, hadn’t they?
“How do you propose we manage that, sir?”