by Beers, B. A.
Bill picked up that Mark was anxious and offered a suggestion. “Stacy has told me about your plans for Sami’s recovery, and you need to be in there with them. Let me help you out here with this snow. I’ll clear some paths for you and give your car some room, too, if need be.”
Mark turned to see Bill’s smiling face and nodded his appreciation. When he reached the door, Mark turned to see Bill pulling out his snow shovel from the bed of the truck. Guilt filled him at the sight, but he reminded himself that his first priority was Sami.
Swallowing the guilt, he opened the door and entered the cabin. The three women were seated at the table sipping coffee, and talking a mile a minute. They were so caught up in their jabbering, he was sure no one saw him enter. Removing his jacket, Mark headed for the fireplace. Sitting in the rocking chair, he eavesdropped on the ladies’ conversation while petting Molly. Pure pleasure went through his whole body as Sami’s genuine laughter reached him.
Mark knew that with both Stacy and Grandma Jo participating, it would keep Sami from slipping into one particular time frame. Mentally, he patted himself on the back for this whole scene was being performed as he had envisioned and planned with both Stacy and Grandma Jo. The team was keeping her on track. Here, with both the present and the past, they were getting her to openly discuss everything from the honeymoon to her broken arm.
Bill’s timing was perfect as he entered the house just as Sami had brought Stacy up-to-date. Stacy smiled at him, but it faded as she caught the worried expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed.
“Another storm’s brewing,” he replied.
Stacy looked quickly over to Mark. Mark was on his feet, grabbing his jacket and moving in the direction of the front door. “How bad?” he asked Bill.
“Can’t rightly tell yet, but I’d rather start home now,” Bill replied hastily.
All five of them stepped out onto the porch to view the pending storm. Within minutes, they were driven back into the cabin by the cold wind.
“Stay here,” Sami offered to Stacy.
“Wish I could, love, but I got kids and a job to think about,” she replied, hugging Sami. “Dr. Stevens has my phone number and address,” she said, releasing Sami and putting on her coat. “You better keep in contact.” She pointed a finger at Sami.
“I promise,” Sami responded, near tears.
“Take care of yourself, little lady,” Bill added as he stepped up to Sami and gave her a bear hug.
Mark grabbed Stacy’s hand and guided her outside onto the porch.
Once outside, Stacy asked. “Did I do any good?”
Mark gathered her into his embrace. “You were wonderful. I can’t thank you enough for everything.” As he released her, Bill exited the cabin.
“Dr. Stevens,” Bill was showing concern. “I’m really worried about you. I’m afraid you will need chains if you intend to get out of here.”
“I have my own truck coming up later this week and I’ll inform David to bring some along. We are well stocked and I have my cell phone. I appreciate your concern and thank you for all you have done.” As they said their goodbyes, Mark promised to keep them informed. Mark stayed on the front porch until they drove out of sight.
***
SIXTEEN
Re-entering the cabin, Mark was unprepared for Molly’s quick exit past him. He reversed his course to be with her, only this time, he remained, on the porch as she played in the snow. When Molly finally returned she was covered in snow. Knowing that getting the snow out of her coat was an impossible task, he brushed her off as best he could. He let her into the house thinking he’d put a towel in front of the fireplace and just let the rest melt off.
As he entered the cabin, he spotted Sami sitting in the rocking chair by the fireplace. He found a towel and spread it out indicating to Molly to lie down next to Sami.
“Mark,” he heard Sami call him. He turned in her direction. “Thank you for bringing Stacy here,” she said quietly.
“Sami…” he began.
“No wait,” she interrupted him. “Let me finish. I did a lot of soul searching last night after I went to bed. Going through those photos on the mantel awakened a part of me that I believed was gone for good. Now, with my visit from Stacy, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Anything, Sami,” he replied.
Getting to her feet, she reached out for his hand. “Help me uncover the truths of my past,” she said leading him down the hall into her bedroom. Mark motioned Grandma Jo to follow them, unsure whether he needed her assistance.
Sami released his hand and she drew aside a quilt that was covering a very old metal locker. She sat on the floor in front of the locker and held out her hand to him with the palm up. He looked at her not knowing what she wanted.
“What?” he asked.
“The keys,” she choked. “This is the last chest that I have to open.”
Forgetting that he had them, he searched his jacket pocket and withdrew the requested items. As he handed them to her, he realized now what the chiseled key opened. Watching her insert the key, Mark suddenly wondered how she had opened the cabin yesterday without the key. Surely, she didn’t leave the cabin unlocked. . . the chair, recalling her movements on the porch. It occurred to him that she must have an extra key hidden there. Watching her, as these thoughts raced in his mind, he removed his coat and slowly sat next to her.
Mark heard the faint click of the lock releasing as she turned the key. Sami grabbed and lifted the lid allowing it to fall all the way open. Mark wondered what memories were held in this chest. Like the cedar chests in her house in Phoenix, the top item was a framed photograph. When had she been here to hide this from view? Knowing that she had not been here since the accident, it had to have been placed there earlier by someone else, he surmised.
Viewing Sami, he noticed that she had removed the photograph. He had only caught a glimpse of it when she first opened the chest, but couldn't tell what was captured on the print. Her focus was locked on the photograph. “Sami?” Mark started, knowing this to be a major development. “Tell me about the photograph.”
Not taking her eyes off the photograph, she began, “This photo was taken when we were five.”
“We?” Mark leaned over her shoulder to view the photograph.
“My twin sister, Rosemarie, and myself. She died shortly after the portrait was taken,” Sami continued. “Her heart finally gave out.” Her voice was thick and full of emotion. “Wanting to protect me, my mother refused to acknowledge her existence and locked everything away in this chest and kept the key hidden from me. Mother never knew that I often came in here to spend time with this locked chest. This is the first time I have opened it. Rose was a taboo subject, but Mom couldn’t rid her from my mind and heart.”
Mark was stunned. She had a twin sister! He was truly shocked. No wonder there were no photographs on the fireplace mantel prior to age five, he thought. Mark saw the photograph of the two little girls. He could easily tell just by looking at it which one was Sami, because one of the girls, though very pretty, was frail and sickly in appearance. He now understood the core of Sami’s problem, the reason why she had hidden all personal items that belonged to a loved one who had passed away. Her inabilities to handle, understand, and adjust to any loss stemmed from the passing of her twin. She needed to grieve openly for Rosemarie before she could move on with the rest. Her parents, wanting to protect her, unknowingly had caused her to split in order to cope.
Mark eyed the chest. There were many things: the little dress and shoes she had on in the photograph, a doll, a barrette with a lock of hair, an imprint of little hands and feet and more photograph albums. Seeing another frame, he withdrew it. He turned it over expecting to see another photograph. This frame held not a photo, but a printed poem. Mark read it briefly and knew that he had finally found what he needed. This poem, written by Sami’s mother for her lost little girl, would heal Sami’s shattered spirit.
“Sami,
” Mark said quietly, getting her attention away from the photograph. “You need to hear this poem. Your mother wrote it for your sister.” Sami pulled the photograph into her chest with her right arm and nodded for him to begin.
“ROSEMARIE
My little, beautiful rosebud who will never be in full bloom.
I truly thank the God above
That gave me you for us to love.
You tried so hard to stay right here,
But, God had other plans, my dear.
You were a beauty, my little Rose,
So fair of face with a turned-up nose,
It’s so hard for me, but yet I’ll try
To write this down before I cry.
It grieves me, darling, that you should go
For your Dad and I did love you so,
But your heart just couldn’t take the strain,
And your life was filled with so much pain.
Your twin sister, Sami, will carry on
With all the love we will bestow upon.
We will cherish her, your Dad and me,
And keep her happy, so she’s pain free.
I will still love you dear, with all my heart,
Though God has seen that we must part.
Your lovely face will always be
A memory locked deep inside of me.
Love, Mother”
When he finished reading, he gazed at Sami. He had witnessed her tears before, but at this moment, these were different, somehow deeper. He put the poem aside and moved forward farther, gathering her into his arms. “Cry, sweetheart,” he directed softly.
Mark heard the door close behind him and knew that Grandma Jo had left them alone. A feeling of satisfaction surged through Mark as he viewed the open cedar chest over her head. This chest first, he thought. Exploring the content bit by bit will stir her hidden secrets — to bring them forward in order for him to start her healing process. Thinking of the other three chests within her home in Phoenix which held her past, they would need to do the same process with them. Each was vital to ensure that the tears of this crying rose were dried.
***
NOVELS by B.A. Beers:
CONTEMPORY FICTION:
The Dr. Mark Stevens’ Chronicles”
The Trilogy of the Rose
The Crying Rose
In Full Bloom, the sequel to The Crying Rose
Bouquet, the sequel to In Full Bloom
Secret Writing
FANTASY:
Isle of the Four Kingdoms:
Dragon Lady Trilogy:
Book One: The Kingdom of the Seven Shields
Book Two: Dragon Lady vs Lady Destiny
Book Three: Whose Land?
Coming in Winter of 2012, the next trilogy in the Isle of the Four Kingdoms will begin, featuring the Dragon Alliance’s continuing adventures.
Read on for an excerpt from Bouquet, the sequel to In Full Bloom.
BOUQUET
Sequel to ‘In Full Bloom’
B. A. Beers
ONE
Dr. Mark Stevens frowned at the awareness of Samantha Carter’s deathly-still body in his arms. Her cleansing-cry had ended abruptly. Warning bells sounded in him as he involuntarily tensed. Quickly reviewing the last few moments, he could find no clue for the reason for her rapid change. Sensing he was not going to like the reason, he braced himself mentally and asked, “What is it?”
“Sweetheart?” Sami blasted out of Mark’s embrace and pressed herself against the headboard of her bed.
Crap, Mark thought as he recalled his whisper to her. His heartfelt directions had awakened ‘Mrs. Carter’. Poor, sweet, lost Sami was overridden once again by this witch-side of her. He sighed deeply, not wanting to play this game. He wanted more time to celebrate the small victory they had achieved. He cursed himself for his lack of professionalism, knowing this part of Sami had thorns. He had to toughen his skin around her or his injuries would only get worse. Needing to put distance between them before revealing his feelings verbally, he rose from the bed. His movement resulted in the framed poem, written by her mother for Sami’s deceased twin, to crash to the floor. The sound of the cracking glass echoed throughout the room. “Damn it,” he uttered, breaking eye contact with Sami and seeing the cracked glass of the frame. Bending forward to retrieve the broken frame, his head collided with Sami’s. The impact was jarring as both reached for the sore spot where their heads had met. The aftermath of their collision should have been filled with apologies, but the room was silent as they glared at each other.
Viewing her pained expression did little to calm his self-anger. Fearful of voicing his frustration, he shook his head and turned to the closed door. With his hand still rubbing his sore head, he opened the door and exited the room swiftly.
His charge down the hall and across the living room to the outside door was made without comment. He felt Grandma Jo’s eyes on him as he blasted out the front door and slammed it. The extremely, cold wind from the snowstorm hit him in the face. Dropping his hand from his face, he fought the wind and moved to the edge of the front porch, gripping the railing with both hands. As his bare hands crushed through the snow that blanketed the railing, he shook — not from the cold which encased his jacketless body, but from the emotional surge he was experiencing. He knew that his actions were immature and even childish, but he couldn’t stop it. Every fiber of his body was impacted. His ever-present, common sense was telling him to control his thoughts. . .to be logical. Logical? he laughed. He needed to detach, to rid himself of his emotions in this case. He knew he was asking for the moon, but at the moment he wished for it to happen.
’Baby steps, Mark,’ Pat voiced in his head. ’You are not a good fairy. You don’t own a wand to magically bop on her head and make all your dreams come true.’
Mark chuckled at his deceased wife’s voice in his head. “I would like to bop her over the head, but not with a wand,” Mark answered the voice.
’Think Mark. You got her to reveal the root of her problem — the seed which started these roots to grow in the wrong direction. You must redirect them to more stable ground,’ she continued.
Mark shook his head. “Easier said than done,” he said. “That woman, Mrs. Carter, is not going to allow me.”
’You must deal with both parts of her, sweetheart,’ Pat said.
“Sweetheart?” Mark questioned, remembering Sami’s words. “That word does not describe the woman I just left.”
’You are wrong. She is lost, Mark. It is that woman you must reach, not Sami. Your bolt from her moments ago has harmed your case. You need to continue to evoke Mrs. Carter. Your focus needs to be with her,’ Pat added.
“It will tear Sami apart,” Mark argued.
’Then, you must do it to bring her back together. I know you, honey. This case is also going to tear you apart if you let it. I promise to protect your heart from the mistreatment. You won’t have the time to guard it yourself,’ Pat offered.
“How am I going to do this without losing her completely?” Mark asked gently.
’You will need to accept it first,’ Pat said.
“What?” Mark questioned.
’You must! If you cannot accept it, then back out now from helping her. Place her in either Peterson’s or Myer’s capable hands,’ Pat insisted.
“I am in too deep to do that now,” Mark stated.
’Then, you have a problem. You will need to channel your passion for her to your professional side. Push your personal side deep. Protect your self-esteem. Commit to her recovery before you declare yourself. It was your endearment which set her into her current state. Place the blame on yourself and learn from it. Lock your focus on using this week for around-the-clock treatment. Gather your team. Unite them with a single focus. Don’t waste the isolation of this cabin on self-doubt or unfulfilled desires. Become clinical. Change her world of sterile and orderly control. Create chaos in her life,’ Pat offered.
Mark laughed suddenly. “Whoa,” he calle
d. “I need to take notes.”
Standing on the porch overlooking the serene falling snow, Mark took a deep, cleansing breath. His rational mind took over. He knew the conversation with his deceased beloved wife was his own mind personalizing his self-talk, but since her passing from cancer two years prior, it had been his way of coping with the loneliness. They say that a therapist has been touched by angels to enter such a difficult profession. The ability to compartmentalize patients’ hopes, fears, and dreams left little room for one’s own life.
His own personal crisis in his youth had made him a hellion in his teens. Abandoned by his mother at the age of two, he had been raised by a woman-hating, alcoholic father. Struggling to cope with his father, he had developed a rebellious nature, which had landed him in trouble with the police. He had been court-ordered to undergo “treatment”. His resentfulness of the forced treatment resulted in many years of bouncing around the court-appointed therapist before his introduction to Jon Peterson, his friend and mentor. Jon’s approach was different from the rest. His down-to-earth, take-it-or-leave-it attitude had appealed to Mark. It provided Mark with the presumed control he needed to pull his life back together.