Flowers from Iraq (The Storyteller and the Healer Book 1)

by Sunny Alexander

  “That’s the end of the story and the end of Kat. She went to live with Mrs. Adams and became Kathleen. All she wanted was a new dress, shoes, and a lousy bologna sandwich.”

  Kathleen stood up, her gaze transfixed and vacant, and began to cross the room to leave.

  Kevin did something he had never done before. He moved between a patient and the door. “You’ve spent your life carrying the guilt for everything that happened to your family. Kat, the little girl, doesn’t have to feel guilty or be ashamed of who she is. That little girl has grown into a wonderful woman capable of loving and being loved. It’s time to set her free.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Kevin was a dream gatherer. As a small child brings home a school painting, Kevin’s patients brought him their dreams. He couldn’t hang the dreams on the refrigerator, but he could take each one inside, and think of it as a chapter in an unfinished autobiography, written in code. Kevin knew that it wouldn’t be enough for him to see Kathleen’s story in her dreams; it had to be validated and felt by her.

  Kathleen brought in two “chapters” for Kevin’s consideration. Nightmares, he thought, that continue to haunt her. The first dream was of her being in the burn pit and swallowed up by the ground. The second was of her climbing out, but getting dismembered by an IED. Kathleen recited the nightmares without emotion, as if she was presenting a dry paper at a lecture. Kevin didn’t push for associations, and he didn’t make any interpretations. For now, he was letting Kathleen lead. It was his job to sense when she might be open to having him join her on the journey. For that, she would have to trust him as they descended into her personal hell.

  Kathleen settled into the couch, scrunching around until she found her comfort spot. She didn’t mind if she could see Kevin, although at times, she kept her eyes shut tight so that he couldn’t see her. She remembered, so many years ago now, when she would lie on Gayle’s couch and become a little girl. She knew it was happening again.

  Kathleen told Kevin about the dream she had the night of the fire. Kevin listened carefully as she described the three parts of the dream. The first was her journey through the desolate battlefield on a carousel horse. The second was her crossing the river to a side that was filled with flowers and contented people. Finally, she saw two children playing in a field of green. Kevin felt it was a transitional dream and it was time to push.

  “You’ve had three dreams that are tied to Iraq and your injury. However, I believe there is more than one level to the dreams. On the surface they’re about Iraq, but they may connect to your story about Kat. I’d like us to look at them as one continuous dream. Also, I’d like to focus on your feelings during the dreams. How does that sound? Shall we give it a go?”

  Kathleen sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s another way around this. Can’t we forget the dreams ever happened? Maybe they’ll go away on their own. Maybe we’re giving them too much power.”

  “The only way I know to defuse the power is to talk about the dreams and try to gain some understanding.”

  Kathleen rubbed her forehead. “I don’t want to do this. Can I talk about something else?”

  “Sure, it’s your hour. I’m wondering, what are you avoiding?”

  “I was relieved when I told you the story about Kat. I’m more relaxed and less troubled. I don’t want to stir things up.”

  “That’s not a bad reason. What would you say to a patient who didn’t want treatment because it might be painful, but could be helpful?”

  Kathleen continued to rub her forehead. “I’d tell them to try the treatment and if they wanted to, they could stop.”

  “Okay, shall we agree to that? If you want to stop, we’ll stop. Let’s go back to the first dream when you’re in the pit and you can’t get out and you’re being swallowed up. Do you recall the feeling?”

  Kathleen sighed. “All too well. I’m terrified. I can’t lift my feet and I can’t scream. I’m being suffocated. I feel alone and helpless.”

  “What about being in the pit? What comes to mind?”

  Kathleen’s hand left her forehead. She ran her hand through her hair and began to twirl a long strand. Her voice became softer, more childlike. “Discarded; I’m being discarded like useless pieces of flesh that are no longer valued.”

  Kevin was quiet for a moment. “I want you to take a moment and think of when you’ve had those feelings or experiences in other situations, perhaps earlier in your life.”

  “It wasn’t always bad. There was a before time, when it was just Devon and me, and Da worked. He would come home and give Mom kisses, and they would dance until Mom got out of breath and dizzy. Then, at night, he would tuck me in and tell me stories about Ireland and call me his Little Warrior.”

  Kathleen began to shake and said abruptly, “I have to stop now. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this. Please, don’t make me do it. I don’t want to go back.”

  “Where are you, Kathleen?”

  Kathleen buried her face in her hands. “You know, don’t you?”

  “I can’t know. I need you to tell me.”

  “I’ve never told anyone.”

  “Secrets are like vampires. They can only live in the dark. Once you let them out they begin to lose their power and die. Tell me about feeling discarded.”

  “I was thrown away. New babies came every year to take my place. Then my da began to beat me, his hand across my head or his belt across my back or leg. I tried so hard to be good. Mom told me I was a bad girl, that’s why Da beat me.

  “I had a dream after I was injured. I saw my da hanging. The rope was around his neck, but he wasn’t dead. He kept struggling, trying to move the rope away from his neck. I stood and watched. I didn’t save him… I didn’t want to save him.

  “Can’t you see, I prayed for a new dress and shoes and I got them, an ugly black dress and shoes, but for his funeral, not for a party. I prayed for the beatings to stop and he died. That’s how God answered my prayers.”

  Kathleen began to cry, guilt filled tears of a little girl. “I was glad he was dead. I wanted the pain to stop and I was glad… I was glad.”

  Kevin sat silently, letting Kathleen’s sobs play themselves out. He spoke gently, “I know this is hard, but I want to see if we can push through this. Your da used alcohol on your leg after he beat you, and now you use alcohol after you hurt yourself.”

  Kathleen covered her face with her hands. When she spoke she sounded far off and little. “Isn’t it time to stop?”

  Kevin looked at the clock. The hour was up. “Let’s keep going. What about the alcohol?”

  “This hurts too much.” She turned on her side and buried her face in the couch.

  “I know this hurts, but you’re almost there. Tell me about the alcohol,” he insisted.

  “Please, don’t look at me,” she begged. “I want you to close your eyes when I leave.”

  “I’m not going to close my eyes, and I don’t want you to hide either. You’ve tried, for most of your life, to be invisible. Now, I want you to sit up. I’m asking you to look at me. No more hiding.”

  Kathleen sat up. She felt as if she was little and Kevin was her da. She couldn’t say no. She covered her eyes. “I can’t look at you. I’m too ashamed.”

  “I can wait,” said Kevin. “We have all night.”

  Kathleen sighed. There was no way out of this one. They were off the clock. Time was on Kevin’s side. She put her hands down and looked at him.

  “It’s my punishment for being so bad. I must be evil. Why else would Da have beaten me and used the alcohol?”

  CHAPTER 37

  Kathleen wandered through the empty house looking for Oscar and discovered him hiding under the Christmas tree. She lay on the floor and waited until he sprawled comfortably on her stomach. Oscar’s purrs vibrated through her hands as she rubbed his head.

  “Hi, Oscar. It’s just the two of us for Christmas dinner. Santa, that’s me, gave the Four a holiday cruise. Were they ever surprised!” She chuckl
ed. “Wouldn’t you like to be a fly on that wall? I would. There’s some turkey in the fridge. Do you want the drumstick? Oh, Oscar, I miss your mommy so much. She’s in New York visiting her bubba. I wonder if she’s missing us.”

  Kathleen’s personal phone was ringing. For a moment she wondered who might be calling. Everyone she knew was gone, and patients would call the office number. She hoped it wasn’t an emergency.

  A man’s voice said tentatively: “Dr. Kathleen Moore?”

  “This is she.”

  “Dr. Moore, were you born in Boston?”

  Kathleen’s heart began to pound and her hands sweat. “Who is calling?”

  “My name is Devon Moore, and if I have the right Kathleen Moore, I am your brother.”

  “Devon?” She could barely speak his name; she had to lean on the kitchen counter for support. “Devon? Is it really you?” Her voice was a raw croak.

  “It’s me! Kathleen, are you okay?”

  Kathleen whispered, “Yes,” cleared her throat and said excitedly, “Yes, yes! Oh, Devon, I’ve thought of you so many times over the years. Dev, are you all right?”

  “Yes, Kat, I’m more than all right.”

  Kathleen hadn’t heard that nickname since they were children. It seemed as if there was a tape on fast rewind and she was instantly reviewing the early years with Devon.

  “I know this is a shock, but I need to see you.”

  “I want to see you, too.”

  “Now, Kat.”

  “Now?”

  “This might be a crappy time for you. I know it’s Christmas, and you might be with friends or family.”

  “I’m alone. How did you find me?”

  “It’s a bit of a story, Kat. Can I come today, please?” There was a plaintive note in his voice.

  “Where are you?”

  “I live in San Diego but I had this feeling it was you, and drove to Santa Barbara this morning.”

  “You’re only an hour away. Please come.”

  Kathleen never believed an hour could be so long and so short at the same time. She ran upstairs, made the bed, and took a quick shower. She went into the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. She looked carefully at Helen’s note hanging on the fridge. She found detailed instructions about meals, snacks, and desserts. Kathleen had ignored the note, preferring to graze as she so often did. Now, she sent a blessing to Helen: There would be food for her beloved brother.

  Kathleen heard a car pulling up on the driveway. Suddenly, she felt as if she had to vomit. She had to think for a moment. How old was Devon? When she last saw him, he was a skinny kid with deep blue eyes, red hair, and a quick smile. She was pulled from the past to the present by a knock on the door.

  There was a moment of surprise when Kathleen saw a man standing in the doorway instead of a boy. Was it Devon? His hair was copper-red, but thinner, and he was so tall. His eyes were the same color, but the pain that had hung in them all those years ago was gone. In an instant, his arms were around her and the years evaporated.

  “Oh, Dev, you are so handsome.”

  All Devon could say was, “My beautiful, beautiful Kat.”

  Kathleen took his hand and led him into her home. They sat in the solarium crying, drinking coffee, eating Christmas cookies, and crying again. They talked about the early days when it was just Mom, Da, and the two of them. Then they spoke of the bad days.

  Devon looked tormented. “I have always felt guilty because you got most of Da’s anger. You took it for all of us, and I am so very sorry.”

  Kathleen had never thought of it that way, that somehow she had kept the rest of the kids safe. “Dev, it wasn’t your fault. I thought you disappeared because you were mad at me. Then the social worker told me you ran away, and I never knew where the other kids were placed. Everyone was gone. Just gone.”

  “They put me in a group home, and it was really abusive,” said Devon. “Running away seemed like the only solution. I bummed around the country, working at odd jobs, and ended up in San Diego. I was sleeping in the doorway of a bakery when the baker came to work. He stepped over me, looked down and said, ‘Kid, do you want a job?’ That was Paul. I worked for him, and he let me sleep in a storage room until I saved enough to rent a room. He got me on the right road. I went to night school and got my high school diploma. A few years ago, I bought the bakery from Paul. I’m a baker, Kat, and I make the best pies in California!”

  “I bet you do!” Kathleen interjected. “I’d love to try one sometime.”

  “I’ll make you one special,” Devon replied. He smiled, studying his sister’s face. “Did you ever marry, Kat?”

  She hesitated, then said carefully, “No. Never got around to it.”

  “Well, I’m married to Amy, a wonderful woman, and we have three kids. After my kids were born, I started thinking about our family, but it was hard for me to make that move from thinking to doing. Three kids, a bakery to run, I had the best excuses for not searching. It was Amy who finally got me to see how scared I was. If I didn’t look, I could always hope to find my family, but if I looked… what if they didn’t want me? I didn’t think I could take that rejection.

  “Well, one evening, a few months ago, I came home from work and the house was really quiet. Amy’s parents had taken the two older kids for the weekend and Amy … first she fed me, then she kissed me and then she said, ‘It’s time,’ and took me into the den where we keep the computer. She sat me down and said, ‘Devon Matthew Moore, I love you more than life itself. But, it’s time you face your devils.’ I did all kinds of website searches and the rest is history. I’ve been able to trace all the kids except for Rose and Charlie. Haven’t found them yet. I discovered they were adopted, and that’s where the trail ends.

  “What about you, Kat? Did you ever wonder?”

  “Oh, Dev, all the time. Especially about you, we were so close. Remember when you would climb into bed with me?”

  He laughed. “Every night during winter. Christ, it was cold. You took care of me, Kat, you kept me warm, you kept me alive.” Devon put his head in his hands and sobbed the tears of a little boy. “Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you come and get me? Didn’t you want to find me?”

  Kathleen knelt on the floor and put her arms around Devon as his shoulders shook. “Oh, Dev, I’m so sorry you had to suffer. I only seemed more grown-up to you. I wasn’t even nine when we were put into the system. I coped by shutting down and running away from every feeling. I can’t expect you to forgive me when I’ve never forgiven myself. I’m so sorry.”

  They sat for a while, brother and sister holding each other, trying to close a twenty-five-year chasm. Kathleen sat next to Devon, holding his hands, not the hands of a child but the hands of a man. “Do you know what happened to our mom? She stopped coming around, and I thought she didn’t love me anymore.”

  Devon shook his head and wiped his eyes. “It wasn’t about her not loving you. Our mother is schizophrenic, in and out of mental hospitals and on the streets for years. You know how it goes. She’s fairly okay if she’s on her meds, then she stops her meds and ends up back on the streets.

  “I kept trying to find her and then about a month ago, I found this missing persons website and there was a posting placed by a hospice. There was a copy of an old photo and I remembered that picture. It was Mom and Da and the two of us at the beach. Man, I cried and I cried. Kathleen, I cried for her and I cried for us. God, I’ve missed you all these years.”

  Kathleen put her arm around Devon and leaned her head against his shoulder. She began to sob, more for his pain than hers.

  Devon caught his breath. “I had her transferred to a hospice near me. Amy and I visit her almost every day.” He looked up at his older sister. “She’s end stage liver cancer, Kat.”

  “She asks for you. I think you’re the only one she fully remembers. I’m asking you to come back with me to San Diego for the day. I know how hard it must be for you to get away, being a doctor and all, but maybe you can give
her some peace before she dies.”

  “Peace?” Kathleen nearly choked on the word. “I’ve been angry with her for not keeping me safe. Part of me, and God forgive me for saying this, wants her to suffer.”

  “I’ve learned the hard way that the best revenge is to live well, not to let someone take you down with them.”

  Kathleen thought for a moment. “I need to make some phone calls. Are you hungry, Dev?”

  “I’m a Moore, aren’t we always hungry?”

  It was early evening when they finally arrived at the hospice. They went into the family waiting room and Devon walked over to a sweet looking woman holding a baby. There was something about her, a childlike innocence that reminded Kathleen of Claire. A boy and a girl were sitting close by, engrossed in playing with their Christmas toys.

  “Kathleen, this is my wife, Amy.”

  Kathleen crossed the room. “Hello, Amy. I’m happy to meet you.”

  Amy smiled. “Me, too. Kathleen, this is your niece and her name is Kathleen, too.”

  Kathleen held her namesake in her arms, and felt her heart doing somersaults. She thought, this is what it feels like to be in love with a little one.

  “We call her Kat,” said Amy.

  Kathleen chuckled at the weight of Baby Kat, and Amy told her they were a little worried about her being a butterball.

  “Our other babies never got quite so… fat!” said Devon, and winced when Amy playfully socked his arm.

  “Can I undo the blanket?” asked Kathleen.

  “Sure,” said Amy.

  Kathleen opened the blanket to see fat little legs underneath a more than ample tummy. “She’s what? About six months?”

  Amy nodded.

  “What is she eating?”

  “She’s only getting breast milk.”