by B. A. Beers
“What?”
“Will she recover?” she asked, wide-eyed. “Will she take AJ from me?”
Whoa, Mark thought, keeping his facial expression in check. He had not seen this coming. Seeing tears building in Linda’s eyes, he offered his standard reply to family members, “Only time will tell.”
As the tears started flowing, Linda choked, “It was wrong of me to ask you.”
Mark walked into the room and deposited his bag on the bed. Stepping round the stilled form of Grandma Jo, he opened his arms to Linda, and she automatically entered his embrace. Speaking softly, Mark offered, “I know this is hard on you. You are conflicted. Your concern for Sami is deeply emotional. You are disappointed by my answer, but I have to be realistic. I sense what you wanted to hear and believe me you are not being selfish for wanting it. My focus is on Sami. . . on mending her broken spirit. Whatever the future holds will need to be dealt with in time. Fearing and worrying about the unknown will cause more harm than good. Turn your focus to the present. Have faith in yourself to be able to cope with the future.”
“I am not that strong,” Linda whispered through her tears.
“Yes, you are,” Mark assured her. Releasing his hold and looking into her face, he added, “I sense a power in you — a strength of character, of purpose. To tell you the truth, it baffled me that you have self doubt.”
Looking up at Mark’s serious face, Linda felt stronger. “I usually am more in control,” she affirmed, reaching for a tissue on the headboard of the bed. Blotting the tears off her face, she added, “It is AJ who ties me up; he is so special to me. My husband and kids have even accused me of playing favoritism.”
“Is he the youngest?” Mark asked.
“Yes.”
“How many other children?”
“Two boys,” Linda provided. “Jacob is nine, and Teddy is seven.”
“They know about AJ?”
“Yes, even AJ knows,” she replied.
“It is the ‘she is our Mom’ syndrome,” Mark stated. “It is very common. Nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not. I treat them all the same,” she defended.
Mark shook his head; he knew better. Subconsciously, she treated them differently. She would view AJ through more rose-colored glasses then her own. Her admission of him being special was a warning sign. Treating Linda was not his focus; he had to think of Sami. Rotating, he looked at Grandma Jo. “Her things?”
“Right there,” she replied, pointing to the tote next to his bag.
“Thanks,” he stated, picking up the two items. “Ready, Linda?”
“Yes,” she replied as he walked out of the room.
Returning to the living room, Mark handed the bags to David. “Please stow these in the truck and lower the back bench,” he directed.
“Got it,” David said, leaving the cabin.
“One phone call to make,” Mark said, seeing Linda move to the couch.
Moving to the roll-top desk, Mark pulled out his wallet and withdrew the piece of paper with the Clark’s number. Dialing the number, he hoped to talk to Stacy directly. On the fourth ring, the machine answered. Sighing, he waited for the beep and briefly left a message telling them that he and Sami were returning to the valley and he would call them later that evening.
Hanging up the receiver, he moved over to the couch. Getting Sami settled into the truck would not be easy. In her current unaware state, securing her on the narrow, back bench of the truck would be problematic. She was small enough to position on the bench, but the potential for her to roll off was high. The shoulder-strap seat belt wouldn’t work on her reclining position. Mark scanned the room for anything that would cushion her securely.
“What is the problem?” Grandma Jo asked, seeing Mark’s search.
“Securing her on the bench,” Mark stated.
“Put her in the passenger seat,” she suggested.
“I can ride in the back,” Linda offered.
“Need pillows to cushion her,” Mark indicated.
“I’ll get them off the beds,” Linda offered, racing off to the back of the cabin.
“Thanks,” Mark called, deciding how to position Sami in his arms to ensure that she would be minimally jostled during the exchange. He needed her head positioned on his left shoulder. However, she was situated on the couch such that lifting her would place her head on his right shoulder. He had to reverse her.
As Linda returned with two large pillows, Mark directed, “Take them to the truck and send David back here. I need his help.” Linda hurried out the door, calling for David. Mark drew back the blanket and the strong scent of urine rushed over him. “We have a problem,” he said, looking at Grandma Jo.
“What is it?” Grandma Jo asked, coming over to stand by him and catching the odor. “Oh, my. What do we do?”
“The urine is trapped in the snow bibs. It is too long of a drive to take her in this condition. She will need to be changed,” Mark indicated.
Grandma Jo nodded. “I will need her things back,” she said.
“It would better if we had a robe to place around her instead of fighting to redress her. Ask Linda if there is one around here,” he directed.
Grandma Jo moved to the door and stepped out on the porch. Mark looked down at Sami. “Can you make this any more complicated for me?” he asked her. Hearing laughter, Mark looked up and saw David before him. “This is not funny,” he fumed.
“Oh, Dr. Stevens. Lighten up a bit. I am sure this is not the first time you have been in this situation,” David chuckled.
“It is to be expected, I know. I should just be delighted that it was now instead of during the trip,” Mark replied.
“There should be a robe here somewhere,” Linda stated to Grandma Jo as they reentered the cabin together. “Give me a minute.”
“If not, we could secure sheets around her,” Grandma Jo offered, following Linda down the hall.
Mark envisioned Sami in the towel she had around her when he first encountered her. “How about large bath towels,” he called after them.
“Linda said you needed me?” David asked, turning a bit red in the face.
“Not for this,” Mark assured him. The relief on David’s face was obvious. “I was going to have you pick her up and hand her to me to reverse her direction so I could get her into the seat, but that was before this discovery. I think I will be able to do it now,” Mark stated.
“Mark. Bring her back here,” Grandma Jo called from down the hall. “We found a robe.”
“Where to?” Mark hollered back, picking up Sami.
“Her bedroom,” Grandma Jo called.
“I’ll wait outside,” David mumbled, anxious to leave the scene.
“Not necessary,” Mark replied, moving down the hall.
“I would just feel better about it,” David said, stepping outside.
At the door of the bedroom, Mark smiled, seeing the bed covered in a sheet. “You got this?” he asked as he placed Sami down on the bed.
“Yes,” Linda answered. “You may leave.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mark chuckled. “Call me when you are done.”
Leaving the two women to tend to the problem, Mark saw Molly and Ollie standing in the middle of the hall. Kneeling before them, he reached out and petted them. “Let’s join David on the porch, shall we?” he said, moving in the direction of the door.
***
FOURTEEN
Half an hour later, Mark merged into the slow line of cars on the interstate. The now-dry Sami was secured in the passenger seat next to him. Glancing at her, he was thankful her eyes had stayed closed during the changing of her clothes, as well as during her entry in the truck. He prayed that they would remain closed. The sight of her unfocused gaze would spook anyone who saw her. Glancing into the rearview mirror, Mark caught Linda’s worried expression. “Have faith,” he offered.
“I was just thinking about how much I have missed her,” Linda sighed, running her hand over the b
ox which held Sami’s journals. “Her journals?”
“Yes. What about them?” Mark asked, recalling his directions to David to place them in the cab.
“I didn’t even know she had them,” Linda said softly. “She never spoke about them to me.”
“You’re curious?” Mark asked.
“Yes and no,” Linda admitted. “Have you read these?”
“Only a few entries,” Mark shared, “the ones concerning her wedding and the last one written before the accident.”
“Last one?”
“Yes. She has not written since then,” Mark answered.
“They are all before the accident?” Linda asked, concerned.
“Yes,” Mark affirmed.
“I am in them?”
“That is a safe bet,” he answered, seeing her hand push the box away from her. Interesting, he thought, holding back the question to ask her to explain her action. He could tell by the expression on her face, she would soon give him the answer without him having to ask.
“I was ten when I first met Sami,” she started softly. “Our family moved to Arizona from Iowa because of my younger brother’s health. Sami’s father was an army buddy of my father, and he became our family doctor. Since Sami and I were the same age, we were thrown together. I remember her being very shy. I was the opposite; I became a rebel. Even at ten, I resented being taken away from my friends because of my brother. I did everything in my power to show my unhappiness, which included being a real troublemaker. I hate to admit it now, but in the beginning, I was mean to Sami. I wanted her to hate me. However, instead of shying away from me, she became like me, picking up all my ugly attitudes. The selfish child I was embraced the power I had over her. The things we did over the years. The things I made her do make me physically ill to remember them. I am surprised we survived those years. It wasn’t until we became college roommates that I truly got to see Sami for who she was.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sami is a chameleon, Dr. Stevens,” Linda stated. “She adapted to the influences around her. Prior to becoming roommates, our contact was not only under my rules, but my friends, also. We didn’t attend the same schools until then. She was a straight-A student. The first month of college was tough on her. She was trying to meet everyone’s expectations and she suffered from it. Witnessing her struggle opened my eyes, and I changed. I didn’t want to be the reason for her pain. I sought professional help. I owe everything I am now to her. She saved my life.”
“You never spoke to Sami about any of this?” Mark asked.
“Never,” Linda affirmed.
“You never thought about suggesting professional help for her?” Mark asked.
“No,” Linda confirmed. “I thought it was me who needed it. Like I said, she adapted to me. Everything smoothed out after my treatment. It wasn’t until the encounter in the hospital that I began questioning her stability.”
“When did you learn about Rosemarie?” Mark asked.
“College,” Linda shared. “We had twin sisters living in the dorm during our second year. That is when she told me the entire story, telling me to never share it for it was too painful for her parents.”
“She hides from pain,” Mark stated.
“Yes,” Linda replied, pointing to the box. “Don’t read these, Dr. Stevens.”
“The name is Mark,” he informed her. “Welcome to the team, Linda.”
“Are you going to read them?”
“I must,” Mark answered.
“Then, burn them after you read them,” she directed.
“I cannot,” he stated, seeing her anxious face in the mirror.
“Then, at least hide them from her,” she stressed. “They will not do her any good. I have forgiven myself for my actions involved in her past. I just don’t feel she would forgive me if she travels down this path.”
“Linda, listen to me,” Mark began. “Forgiving yourself is what matters in life. Don’t seek Sami’s forgiveness. Her continuing friendship with you before the accident speaks of her acceptance of you. If she holds any disregard for your shared past, you would have sought her forgiveness before. Just knowing that your past could be written on those pages has you doubting yourself. Give yourself a hug. Hold on to the basic fact that those books are a history and cannot be rewritten. Don’t allow the fear of the unknown to hurt you.”
“My mind hears you, Mark. It is my heart that is troubled,” she admitted.
“It is your heart which compelled you to make your offer for AJ,” Mark stated.
“Correct. And, it is guilt for having a hand in creating her altered state,” she admitted.
“You’ve thought about this a great deal?” Mark asked.
“Every day since the accident,” she confessed.
“Let it go. Put it to bed. Stop the guilt,” Mark ordered. “Forgive yourself. You have paid your dues.”
“What about AJ?” she asked softly.
“Answer this question for me. Do you see him as himself or as an extension of Sami?” Mark asked, suddenly concerned about the boy’s mental health.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Does it make a difference?”
Mark gripped the steering wheel hard to steady his growing sense of dread. “Yes. He is not Sami,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I know that,” she cried.
“He is six now?” Mark calculated.
“Just.”
“Tell me about him,” Mark directed, seeing his knuckles turn white due to the pressure in his hands.
“He is a great kid,” Linda replied, eyeing the back of Mark’s head.
“Define great,” Mark requested.
“He is smart, witty, outgoing. . . Everyone loves him, especially his soccer coach,” Linda offered. “I have not coddled him. My family will not allow me to do it. He is all boy.”
Mark eased his grip on the wheel and let out a huge breath. Linda’s laughter behind him grated on him. “What did you expect for me to say,” she asked. “That he was disturbed, . . . a brat?”
“He was a preemie. I really didn’t know what to expect,” he answered, hoping to take her focus off his distress.
“Yes, he was. He only weighed a little over four pounds at birth, but he quickly added weight. They released him to me when he was three weeks old.
“Has Sami seen him?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if she made the connection. Before he entered preschool, I brought him over to her house once a month. He knows she is his mom. . . and that she is unwell. I stopped bringing him when his moods altered after the visits,” she answered.
“Altered?”
“Yeah. He would be quiet for days,” Linda said.
“And, the questions got harder?”
“Yes,” Linda answered, looking down at her hands.
“Is that when you stopped going over?”
Linda’s head jerked up. “I didn’t tell you that part. How did you know?”
“Natural course,” Mark informed her. “I saw it in your face when you first saw Sami on the couch. How long has it been?”
“Face-to-face, two years. I do call her every Monday. Not once in those two years did she not answer my call. It is the reason I drove over to her house this morning,” she shared.
“What did you expect to find when you got there?” he asked, keeping her face in line with the mirror.
“I . . .,” Linda stammered.
“Never mind,” Mark said. “I can plainly see what you thought. It is written on your face.”
“I know it is wrong to feel that way, but I have prayed for so long that she be at peace. What she has been going through this past six years is not living,” Linda defended her thought.
“I am surprised you went to her house alone,” Mark stated, “especially, if you believe her to be dead.”
“There was no one else,” she said.
“You are not alone anymore.”
“I cannot tell you how that makes me feel,
” she shared.
“Believe me, I know,” Mark offered. “I do wish you would have contacted Dr. Peterson about your concerns years ago.”
“I didn’t know him and the help I tried to give was resisted. I wish now that I had forced my father to do something,” she declared.