by B. A. Beers
“In the lake,” Mark answered truthfully.
“Oh, no,” Sami cried. “If you had not gone in search of her . . .”
“But, I did,” Mark stated, seeing Sami shaking. “She will be fine.”
“I am a failure,” Sami cried.
“Wait! Where did that come from?” Mark asked.
“My purpose. My purpose is to protect her. I failed,” she answered. “I should not have allowed you to take her outside.”
“You gave the order, remember. It was not my idea,” Mark defended himself.
“Not true,” Sami yelled, getting to her feet. “You want her dead!”
“What?” he asked. “Get real.”
“You failed to watch her. It is your fault,” Sami screamed. Her tone and volume level caused Molly to whimper and stir.
Mark reached out and stroked Molly. “Sami, you are upsetting her. Calm down,” he directed. “If you want to pitch a fit, please wait until I have treated her feet.”
Grandma Jo returned with the bag of bandages and dropped it near Mark before backing away from the very agitated, young woman.
“Focus on Molly. I need your help with her feet. Fight this urge, and get back down here, Sami,” Mark directed.
Sami’s angry eyes dropped from him to see Molly squirming under Mark’s hand. Kneeling, she cooed softly to Molly. “Easy, girl.”
Where is this ON/OFF switch? Mark thought to himself. She could switch from one personality to the other in a split second. Seeing Molly settle back against Sami, Mark made quick work of bandaging the dog’s paws. “Don’t chew on these,” he instructed to Molly. Gathering the supplies back into the bag, he rose.
“I am sorry,” Sami whispered.
Mark froze as he heard her. His insides flipped. She remembers, he thought. Not wanting to push his luck, he replied without looking at her. “Apology accepted.” Looking at Grandma Jo, he asked, “Where is that promised tea?”
“Coming,” Grandma Jo answered, taking the bag of bandages out of Mark’s hand and turning towards the kitchen. “Sit and warm up.”
Mark looked at the comfy, inviting chair, but opted to remain standing. Turning to the fireplace, he placed his hands on the mantel and lifted his cold foot to the flames, flexing his toes.
“Feeling returning?” Grandma Jo asked as she returned with the mug.
“Some,” he replied, rotating his feet. “Give me a minute.”
Holding the mug to her chest, she recalled his appearance when he returned. “You went in after her, didn’t you?” she asked.
Nodding, Mark stated, “I had no other option. She had no traction on the ice.”
“You what?” Sami asked.
“You heard me,” Mark declared, not turning.
“Here.” Grandma Jo offered the steaming mug.
Mark took the mug and felt Grandma Jo move behind him. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Need to check your back,” she answered, pulling up his blue, sweatshirt top to expose his back.
“Ouch,” she cried softly, seeing the bloody claw marks on his back. “Don’t move.”
“What is it?” Mark asked, not feeling anything amiss.
“You are clawed,” Grandma Jo answered, moving to the table to retrieve the bag she had placed there moments earlier.
“Oh, Mark,” Sami cried, viewing the tracks on his back.
“I am okay,” he stated, pulling down the sweatshirt.
“No, they need to be attended,” Grandma Jo said, coming back to him with the bag in her hand. “I noticed the wet blotches on your sweatshirt when you were concentrating on Molly. I first thought it was due to your wet hair, but when I heard you say you went into the water, I knew I needed to check.”
Wiggling his shoulders, Mark felt no discomfort. “I am fine,” he reported. Seeing her frown, he knew he could not win this battle. “Alright, you win. If it will make you feel better.” Placing the mug on the mantel, he removed his sweatshirt and presented his back to her.
“Sami, dear, could you please help me?” Grandma Jo asked.
“Sure. Stay, Molly,” Sami directed, getting to her feet and moving over to Grandma Jo.
“It appears that Molly needs to have her nails clipped,” Grandma Jo reported, passing the bag of bandages to Sami.
“What’s first?” Sami asked, looking into the bag.
Grandma Jo eyed the welts on Mark’s back. “How well did you wash your back?” she asked.
“I just let the water run down it,” Mark answered.
“Not good enough. To the bathroom,” she ordered.
Picking up the mug, Mark did as directed. He knew better then to argue with her. As he rounded the corner to the hall, he heard Molly’s tags tinkling; she was following them. Closing his eyes, he waited for the appearance of ‘Mrs. Carter’.
“What’s wrong? Keep moving,” Grandma Jo said.
Surprised, Mark opened his eyes and looked back over his shoulder at the three sets of eyes behind him. None of them showed anger; they all expressed concern for him. His ego felt a boast at the sight; he was the focus of their attention. “I like this,” he said softly.
“Move,” Grandma Jo encouraged.
“Fine,” he said, stepping into the small room. “Where do you need me to go?”
“Here,” Grandma Jo directed, stepping around him and placing a towel on the bottom of the tub, grabbing his wet clothes. “Sit on the rim of the tub with your back out to us,” she finished, tossing his wet clothes on the floor.
Stepping into the tub, Mark eyed his balled-up wet clothes. “Now, why didn’t I think of tossing them on the floor?” he chuckled.
Grandma Jo smacked him lightly on the back of his head. “That is enough,” she sniped, turning to the sink and soaping a washcloth.
Mark felt slight pressure on his back and looked to see Sami gingerly touch the welts as she inspected his back. “How bad?” he asked.
Sami’s soft brown eyes looked into his eyes. “The welts are deep,” she reported softly.
“Blood?” he asked.
“Seeping like Molly’s pads,” she answered.
“Will I live?” he asked softly.
“Yes, Dr. Stevens. You will live,” she replied.
***
FOUR
The moment the hot, soapy washcloth made contact with Mark’s back, he yelped in pain. “I am not sorry,” Grandma Jo stated, rubbing his back hard. “I need to make sure it is clean.”
“If it wasn’t bleeding before, I am sure it is now,” Mark stated as tears started behind his eyes.
“Toughen up, Mark. You do not want it to get infected,” she replied, returning to the sink to rinse out the soapy residue from the washcloth.
“Are your hands that insensitive to not feel the temperature of the hot water?” Mark groaned.
“I have not spent a pampered life, if that is your reference. I do my dishes in hotter water than this. This is not hot,” she stated, returning to him with an equally hot rinse.
“Thanks to you, my back now hurts,” he complained softly through his grunting.
“I am about done. Stop being a baby,” she snapped.
“Where is the sweet bedside manner I have seen you give to Sami?” Mark asked.
“Right here,” she laughed.
“Just hurry,” Mark pleaded.
“I am done. Sami, please dry the area,” Grandma Jo instructed as she tossed the washcloth into the sink and opened the bag of bandages.
Mark sighed with relief as Sami’s hands cautiously began drying his raw back. Her actions were gentle, unlike the scrubbing administered by the ‘Queen of Pain’. “I do believe I could play tic-tac-toe on your back,” she laughed.
“That many scratches?” Mark questioned.
“Oh, yeah. Molly did a number on your back,” Sami replied softly.
“Here,” Grandma Jo said, passing the tube of ointment to Sami. “You do it. He seems to handle your touch better than mine.”
Mark laughed lightly. “She is not treating me like a used, dried-up football,” he offered.
As Sami spread the ointment, she observed, “You have no hair on your back.”
“Nope. Football pads and constant sunburns in my teen years eliminated that option,” he laughed.
“Sunburns?” Sami asked.
“Yes. I was an official member of the ‘River Rats’ during the summer months. I am surprised I do not have a permanent ring around my ass from the amount of times I tubed the Salt River,” he explained.
“You grew up in Phoenix?” Sami asked.
“You bet I did,” he answered.
“Really? What high school?”
“West,” he stated. “You?”
“Central,” she answered.
“Oh, cruising,” he sighed, reminiscing.
“Every Friday and Saturday night,” she laughed.
“Bob’s Big Boy to the library?” he inquired.
“Was there any other choice?” she retorted, smiling.
“No. Those were the days,” he added, enjoying the easy conversation as she worked on his back.
“Are you done going down memory lane?” Grandma Jo asked, feeling left out.
“Yes,” Sami replied, standing.
“Please get his shirt,” Grandma Jo directed.
“I dropped it in the chair next to the fireplace,” Mark informed her.
“Be right back,” Sami indicated and exited the bathroom, smiling.
“She sounded. . . normal,” Grandma Jo remarked in a low tone.
Mark stood and stepped over the rim of the tub. “She is normal,” he replied, looking at her intently.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” she said harshly.
“Yes, I know,” he agreed. “Not all of her is damaged. She just has triggers that lead her afoul.”
Grandma Jo nodded her understanding. The tinkling of Molly’s tags announced the return of Sami. Looking at the door, they heard the ringing of the phone.
“I’ll get it,” Sami’s voice called to them.
“She has a phone?” Grandma Jo asked.
“Obviously,” Mark stated, moving to exit the room and turning to the sound of Sami’s voice. Entering the living area, he located her next to the roll-top desk on the far side of the dining table.
Spotting him, she held out the receiver. “It is David.”
Confused, Mark walked over to the handset of the old-type, desk phone. This belongs in a museum, he thought, eyeing the phone. Placing the receiver to his ear, he asked, “David? How did you get this number?”
“Sami provided the number before you left,” David answered. “Heard about the storm. How bad?”
Nodding, Mark replied, “The storm has already dumped a foot of snow and it is still coming down. You are coming tomorrow?”
“That’s why I am calling. Didn’t want you to fret. I am experienced in driving in the snow. Did a couple of years at NAU in Flagstaff,” he offered.
“Great,” Mark acknowledged. “Got paper?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Need some things,” Mark replied, eyeing Sami. “Sami would like her painting stuff.”
“Okay, need a house key,” David stated.
“Key?” Mark asked Sami.
“Yes. Hanging on a hook, right inside Molly’s doghouse,” Sami offered.
“I heard her,” David informed him. “Anything else?”
“Yes. A couple of more things. Hold on,” Mark directed, turning to Sami. “Could you get my mug? I left it in the bathroom.”
Sami nodded and turned to retrieve the mug. Seeing her round the half-wall to the hall, he continued, “David, I need her journals. They are in her office inside a cedar chest. There are quite a few. Bring them all.”
“No problem. Is that it?” he inquired.
“No, two more items. Need snow chains for her car. See if you can find some or we will be here longer than a week. Lastly, bring my dog,” he said, seeing Sami reappear before him.
“Got it, sir,” David laughed.
Mark chuckled. “What time are you leaving tomorrow? When can we expect you?” he asked.
“Should be there around noon if her directions are good,” David guessed.
“Oh, yeah. The entrance to the cabin is hard to find. I will trek out to the main road tomorrow and mark the entrance somehow,” Mark informed him.
“How about a yellow ribbon?” David said, laughing.
“Yellow ribbon?” Mark repeated, looking at Sami.
Sami held up her hand, “Hold on. Let me check,” she said, dashing down the hall.
“She is searching,” Mark informed David.
“I was only kidding,” David offered.
“Let’s see what she comes up with,” Mark stated, shaking his head. “While we wait, I have a request. Please call here before you start in case there is anything else we might require.”
Grandma Jo appeared by his side. “Have him bring up my extra yarn tote near my chair,” she directed.
“I heard her,” David said, walking over to the tote and placing it by the front door.
Sami turned into the room, holding a spool of red, felt, holiday trimming. “Will this work?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mark replied. “David it will be red, not yellow.”
“Okay. Talk to you tomorrow,” David said, disconnecting the line.
Mark looked at the receiver. “What is it with people who do not say ‘goodbye’?” he asked, replacing the receiver in the cradle. “I am surprised you have phone service here,” he stated, turning to Sami.
“It is vital. My father is a doctor. His service might need to contact him,” she answered.
Mark caught the present tense of her words. Interesting, he thought, catching Grandma Jo’s confused expression.
“Sami, who takes care of this for you?” he asked.
Sami narrowed her eyes. “Your meaning?” she questioned.
“This cabin. The financing of running this place,” Mark added.
“Gus takes care of the physical cabin. His homestead is about three miles further down the road. He is a patient of my father and we pay him for the upkeep,” she answered.
“Pay him?” Grandma Jo asked.
“My attorney takes care of all of it,” she answered blankly.
Mark’s interest was caught. “Attorney?” he questioned, seeing Sami move back to her place before the fireplace and pick up the afghan. “Attorney?” Mark asked again, following her and sitting down in the comfy chair he refused earlier.
“Steven Miller,” Sami stated.
“Continue,” Mark directed.
Sami stared into the fire as she spoke. “I stopped by his office on my way home from Dr. Peterson’s office on that last day. He is my father’s attorney.”
Mark now understood just how important that day was to her. Not only had she cut herself loose from Jon, she had cut all ties to the outside world. Looking at the afghan she clung to, he thought, Stick with me, kid; we will unravel the knots in your soul.
***
FIVE
Mark mentally noted the attorney’s name, Steven Miller. He would need to see if Mr. Miller would be willing to share some insight into Sami’s past. Client confidentiality would come into play, but he hoped Sami would grant the attorney permission to speak candidly to him. But, this was not the time to bring it up. Seeing her focus on the burning logs and absently petting Molly, who had camped next to her on the floor, Mark scanned the room. The absence of an entertainment unit did not surprise him. It was a cabin, he thought. No radio, no television. What did they do to occupy their time, he wondered, spotting Grandma Jo who had picked up her knitting needles.
He pondered the idea of starting Sami’s treatment plan, but realized that he didn’t have what he needed, namely her journals and David. Treatment would need to be placed on hold for today. Remembering the cedar chest with items from Rosemarie’s life located a short distance away, he considered starting with it. He had
already deduced that her recovery would be based on touching every single item held within the six cedar chests she owned, but right now the thought of placing her in that emotional ride made him frown.