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

by Sunny Alexander

  “Don’t worry, she’ll thin out when she starts to walk. I see it in my practice all the time. Just keep feeding her when she’s hungry.” Baby Kat gave Kathleen a big smile and began to fuss.

  “Uh-oh, time to go back to Mommy.”

  Amy unbuttoned her blouse, took Baby Kat, and managed the blanket so that her breast was covered. “We haven’t had her baptized yet. We were hoping we would find you, and that you would consider being her godmother.”

  Kathleen couldn’t speak and became gripped with sadness. She couldn’t be Baby Kat’s godmother because of who she was and who she loved.

  She smiled wanly, excused herself, and walked over to the two older children. She knelt down, played with them for a few minutes, and told them she was their aunt. They both gave her a big hug and smothered her in sugary kisses. Kathleen felt unexpected warmth kindling in her. They are my family, she thought. Sweet, sweet gentle souls, loving me without knowing me. Loving me simply because I am.

  A nurse entered the room. “Mr. Moore, Dr. Moore, your mother is lucid right now, but that changes from moment to moment. I don’t think she has more than a few hours before—” She left the statement unfinished.

  Devon and Kathleen went into their mother’s room. The room was painted a soothing green, and pastoral paintings hung on the wall. A small wooden cabinet with glass doors was next to the hospital bed and held a CD player along with an assortment of CDs. Kathleen looked through the CDs and played Pachelbel’s Canon in D. She remembered listening to it when she was a child; it was one of her mother’s favorites. She sat on the upholstered beige chair next to the bed and took her mother’s hand in hers.

  For a moment Kathleen wondered, who is this woman? Where is my mother? Her memories were of a woman whose hair shined with a copper glow and eyes that were as vibrantly green as Kathleen’s. The stranger lying in the hospital bed had hair that was gray and wispy, with rheumy eyes that were like dusty marbles in a sallow face. Kathleen looked at the photo on the nightstand from the before time of Mom, Da, Kathleen, and Devon. It was the photo that led Devon to find their mom. Badly creased and faded, Kathleen thought how much it must have meant to her mother, to carry it with her for the lost and lonely years.

  Devon leaned in close to their mother. “Hi, Mom. Kat’s here.”

  “Hi, Mom,” she said softly. When she uttered those words, the years vanished and she was little again and everything in the Moore house was sweet. For that moment, she felt the security and peace of a loving family.

  Her mother struggled to speak. “Kat, you’ve come to take me home. I need your help with the children.”

  Kathleen had hoped to hear different words, words that spoke of regret and apology. Part of her wanted to get up and run away, but she knew she had been running for most of her life, and it no longer worked. She thought of everything and everyone she had in her life. How different it feels, she thought, if you run toward someone instead of away.

  She kept her mother’s hand in hers. “You’ll go home soon, Mom.”

  Kathleen watched as her mother’s breathing changed. She had seen it many times before. Her ragged, noisy breaths signaled that death was not far away. She remembered Iraq, and how she would go into the ICU to be with the men and women waiting to be transported to Landstuhl. She knew that some would never make it. She would hold their hands and sometimes watch them take their last breath. She thought, no one should die alone.

  Devon and Kathleen sat quietly on either side of their mother, holding her hands. Her labored breathing grew shallow until, with a shudder that shook her frail body, she lay still.

  Kathleen hoped and prayed that her mother had finally gone home.

  CHAPTER 38

  Kathleen put on the porch light and looked out the window of her office. The lawn had turned winter brown and a blanket of frost was providing a white coverlet. Soon, the bulbs that Sam, Helen, and she had planted in November would begin to work their way through the soil, heralding the birth of spring.

  Helen had mail-ordered the bulbs of tulips, daffodils, crocus, and hyacinths. Kathleen and Helen stood on the lawn, next to each other, trowels in their hands, bags of planter mix resting near their feet. Helen held a large, bushel basket trimmed with green and red bands filled with the mixture of bulbs. “Come on, Kathleen. We’ll do it the way nature does.”

  Together they began to randomly scatter the bulbs across the lawn. Where they landed was where they would be planted. Sam joined them—spade in hand. “How about an old farm boy helping out?” he said. Together, they began to plant bulb after bulb. When they finished, Helen stood up, rubbing her back. “Wait until spring. We’re going to have quite a show.”

  Kathleen sat at her desk, sorting through the mail and thought about the months since Claire had left. Her life was busier than ever. Her practice was growing, she was still working weekends at St. Mona’s, and she faithfully kept her twice a week appointments with Kevin.

  She and Claire spoke a couple of weeks ago on New Year’s Eve. Claire was at a museum party… “business,” she had said. Kathleen had wondered, would Claire be kissing someone when the clock struck twelve?

  She sorted the mail into piles: Throw Away, Can Wait, and Get To It Now. Most of the mail went into the Throw Away pile. Bills went into Can Wait pile, although she thought about renaming the stack We’re Still in the Red.

  One piece of mail went into the Get To It Now pile. Kathleen was scheduled to speak at a conference in Los Angeles in six weeks and had to prepare her presentation.

  Kathleen heard the doorbell ring. It was her evening appointment with Christen Mitchell, the realtor who had shown her Canfield House. Christen wouldn’t tell Helen the reason for the appointment, only that it was personal.

  Kathleen and Christen sat in the chairs near the fireplace.

  “It’s pleasant in front of the fire, Dr. Moore,” said Christen, a little nervously.

  “I’m not even Dr. Moore to most of my patients. Please call me Kathleen.”

  “Kathleen, I wanted to speak to you about my daughter, Victoria. You met her at dinner and you’ve seen her twice, I believe. Once for her sports physical and then when she sprained her wrist playing volleyball. Victoria’s a wonderful girl and I’m proud of her. She has the usual teenage issues. She thinks she knows more than her parents and chafes under our ‘Gestapo tactics’—her term—and can’t wait to get her driver’s license.”

  “Sounds typical all right,” said Kathleen. “So what can—”

  The waterworks started to flow; Christen reached for a tissue. “I don’t know what to do. I believe Victoria is gay.”

  Kathleen felt an arrow through her heart. She forced herself to keep still and hoped her expression hadn’t changed.

  Christen went on, “I’m worried that she may be confused—”

  Kathleen was sure she had stopped breathing.

  “—and not be able to accept herself. I’ve read about the higher rate of suicide among gay teens.” Christen hesitated. “I was hoping you might meet with her. She won’t talk to me, but I thought she might open up to you. I’m frightened she won’t be able to accept who she is and end up being unhappy or hurting herself.”

  Kathleen was puzzled. “Perhaps a therapist might be a better choice. I can give you a referral if you like.”

  “Oh, I thought you were… oh, I’m so sorry. When we first met, I thought, oh my, I must have put things together that weren’t there. I thought that if someone, who might have struggled with the same issues, could speak with Victoria… I’m really sorry, Kathleen.”

  “Christen, you weren’t wrong, and it would be a privilege to speak with Victoria. I’m curious, what made you think—I mean, how did you know about me?”

  “Why, I think everyone in town thinks you’re gay. In a small town like Canfield, there are few secrets. We felt so bad when Claire left. You made such a sweet couple. We loved to see you on your bikes or taking hikes. It was all over town when you ran your errands and stopped
at the ice cream parlor. Everyone could tell you were sweethearts. It was the way you looked at each other, you know, with that certain sparkle. You can’t hide that.

  “I may as well tell you, when you came to Canfield for the interview, it wasn’t a consensus to offer you the position. Bill and I knew we’d be lucky to have you as our physician, but we had to convince the other council members. After you left, we had quite a lively discussion. Bill and I thought people would change their minds once they got to know you, and most of them have. There are some in Canfield who are not quite ready, but perhaps with time…”

  Christen smiled warmly at Kathleen. “You are loved by the people in Canfield, and so is Claire. Most of us hope for a little happiness in our lives, and we wish the same for you.”

  Kathleen hurriedly wiped tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Christen,” she said, sniffing a little. “What you said means so much to me. I’m curious, why do you think Victoria is gay?”

  “A mother knows her child. She’s different—not in a bad way, just different. I’m worried she may be confused and struggling with her identity. She has pinups in her room—you know the way the kids do, singers and movies stars. Except Victoria’s are all of young women. She stays in her room and plays the same few songs all the time. One of them is ‘I Kissed a Girl.’ Should I keep going? It seems obvious to me, but when I’ve tried to talk to her, she shuts me out. If she’s gay I want her to be proud, not ashamed. I love my daughter and I’m worried. I don’t want her to become a statistic. All I want is for her to be happy in her life, not tormented.”

  Kathleen nodded. “Is Jeffrey on board as well?”

  “Yes, one hundred percent.”

  “She’s lucky to have you and your husband. Why don’t you call Helen in the morning and have her make an appointment for Victoria?”

  “She wants to be called Vic.”

  “Okay. I’ll remember that. Tell Helen to make it on a Sunday, and I’ll take Vic for a walk. I can’t promise anything, but perhaps she’ll open up to me. By the way, is it okay if I tell her I’m gay?”

  Christen smiled. “Oh, I think she knew it the night we had dinner together. It was right in her face. That’s why she was so nasty toward you.”

  That night, Kathleen got into bed and Oscar followed, lying on her stomach and purring. She rubbed his head and fantasized about buying a toy piano and teaching Oscar to bang on it. She envisioned Claire’s laughter at such a sight.

  Kathleen knew she should have been fighting for Claire, not pushing her away. She chuckled when she thought about Claire’s mysterious ways. She missed so much about her: the outfits that bordered on costumes, the way every outing was a mysterious adventure, the way she pouted when she was upset. Most of all, she missed the way Claire loved her; the way Claire beamed when she put the necklace on Kathleen, and the way she wouldn’t let Kathleen push her away on the night of the fire.

  Kathleen thought of all the lost opportunities. The times when Claire wanted to hold her hand or to be seen as a couple; and Kathleen rejected her and their love.

  She hoped it wasn’t too late.

  CHAPTER 39

  The weeks were going by so quickly, it seemed. Kathleen thought about how time was measured in concrete terms, but there was nothing concrete about it.

  Kevin was pushing her in every session, forcing her to take her armor off, little by little, exposing her most vulnerable hiding places. She felt exhausted. She missed Claire.

  “Tell me,” he said, when they were exploring the second nightmare about walking through the desolate landscape of Iraq.

  “It was bleak; rocks and dirt and danger everywhere. I felt lost, disconnected. I wanted to walk to the stream where the flowers were growing. There was a woman sitting on the bank with her hand in the water. It looked so peaceful, like a painting from a different time. Then I stepped on the IED.

  “I never saw flowers in Iraq. It was either hot and windy or cold. Robert sent me seeds, and I tried to grow them in pots. They would start to come up, struggle for a few days, and die. I couldn’t get them to grow. I was surrounded by death; it was everywhere.”

  “I think this somehow connects to the dream you had the night of the fire.”

  Kathleen looked surprised. “How? I don’t understand.”

  “Have you heard the adage, ‘All roads lead to Rome?’ The Romans had fifty-thousand miles of paved roads, and they all took you back to one central place. Let’s try to follow the roads in your dreams and see if they take us back to Rome.”

  Kathleen was listening attentively. She was curious about the connections.

  Kevin sensed Kathleen’s interest. They were becoming a team. It was time to interpret.

  “In your first dream, there is no hope,” he began. “You’re stuck in the pit, helpless, the way you were when you were a child, without the means to save yourself or to have anyone else save you.

  “In the second dream, you are stronger. You’re able to get out of the pit, and you see flowers by the stream and a woman who is enjoying the simple pleasure of a peaceful day. You’re trying to find a soothing place filled with life, but a bomb explodes before you can reach it.

  “The third dream starts out in bleakness. You are surrounded by death and destruction. It changes when you cross the river and get to the other side. What do you make of crossing the river?”

  “I wasn’t afraid of the water, even though it was deep in some places and I would be submerged. All the blood was washed away, and I felt renewed. It reminds me of a baptism. I finally felt clean. I’ve spent most of my life feeling dirty and terrified. The fear is always there, unless I’m working. I’m feeling afraid right now and I don’t know why.”

  Kevin nodded. “We’re going to come back to the fear in a minute. For now, let’s concentrate on the dream and see where it leads us. There were flowers when you crossed the river. What can you tell me about them?”

  Kathleen closed her eyes, bringing the dream back to life. “They were incredibly beautiful and so alive. The colors were bright and unusual. What stays in my mind is the way the flowers changed into people. I think about some of the men and women I saved. Sometimes, their wounds were so severe. I know it was my job to save them, not to play God, but did I do the right thing? What kind of life will they have?

  “There were soldiers I couldn’t save. Sometimes, I couldn’t tell how severe their injuries were, and I would feel optimistic. Then, I would discover an internal injury and they would die. I couldn’t stop death.”

  Kathleen wiped her eyes and looked at Kevin. “The flowers were the troops I couldn’t save. They were in a better place. They were thanking me for trying. They were forgiving me.”

  “What thoughts do you have about the last part of the dream? The two children?”

  “Kevin, they were so innocent. The little girl reminded me of my family. She had red hair and freckles, like my mother and Devon. She was so free, and she never hurt the butterflies.

  “The little boy, I’m not sure—he didn’t look like anyone I know. He was darker, and so calm, the way he was holding the book and looking at me. Such a sweet smile, as if he knew me.” Kathleen held her head in her hands. “There were children we treated, innocents, horribly injured.” Kathleen looked up. “In my dream, these children had nothing to worry about. They were safe and secure. I think they represented hope and peace.”

  Kevin nodded. “What about the terror that’s always inside you?”

  Kathleen’s voice changed and became soft and childlike. “I want to talk about the night my da died, when I was eight and a half and I lost my family. I want to make it real, not a fairy tale. I want to be free.”

  Kevin sat quietly and nodded. “Tell me.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Kevin treasured the time between patients. He liked to “clear his palate,” to think about the patient who left and the patient who would be next.

  Kevin knew that Kathleen would arrive exactly at seven o clock. He had ten minutes. Kevin
saw in her the child who continued to be flooded with guilt and shame, but he also saw an incredibly strong woman who was determined to change. It happens this way, he mused. A patient has been stuck in a place for years, acting out old messages and scripts, and suddenly makes a shift to go in a different direction.

  Kevin struggled with an issue common to all therapists. How much should he reveal about his own life, his own struggles? Will sharing personal information benefit the patient or only relieve his own angst? He was taken by how troubled Kathleen felt over having saved some lives. Was there a physician out there who was pained because they had to amputate Kevin’s leg? How does one put a value on the quality of life?

  Kevin thought about telling Kathleen about his journey: a journey he would have never taken if his right leg had not been amputated, a journey that had brought him here, to join Kathleen on her odyssey. He sensed it wasn’t time.

  The call light blinked. Kevin opened his office door. Kathleen smiled. It was the first time she had smiled directly at him.

  Kathleen sat on the couch. “I had two dreams last night,” she announced. “In the first dream I descended into hell. There were caves on either side of the path through hell. Inside the caves people were being tortured. It was horrible to see. I could hear their screams and saw people being whipped and hung up by hooks. I felt I had a choice. I had to walk through hell, but I didn’t have to stay there. As I continued to walk, I became younger and younger. When I came to the end of the cave, I could see the sun shining. I was little, maybe three or four years old, and there was a tricycle waiting for me. I got on the trike and rode away into the sunlight.

  “In the second dream, I was on a commercial flight. The pilot came out of the cockpit and asked if there was a doctor on board. I stood up. The pilot explained that there was an Army transport plane with a medical emergency and they needed a doctor to transfer onto their plane. They were going to position the plane under ours, and I would have to jump from one to the other. I wasn’t afraid and thought what did I have to lose?