Time To Love Again

by Roseanne Dowell

Louise's face, pale and void of make-up, scared Rose. Hair tousled, dark circles rimmed her eyes as if someone had blackened them. The remnants of surgery didn't surprise Rose. She had expected it, had seen it many times before, but it was so uncharacteristic of her friend's usually perfect appearance, her usual vibrant, healthy look.

  Rose tried to think of an excuse to make her escape. It tore at her heart to see Louise in this condition, hooked to all the life monitoring machines and tubes. She glanced at the clock, thanked God her time was up.

  She leaned over and kissed her friend's cheek. "I love you," Rose whispered.

  Louise squeezed her hand. A tear fell from Rose's eye. She turned to make her escape; sending up another silent prayer for her friend.

  "I have errands to run." Rose made her excuse to George. "I'll come back later." She promised.

  The family wanted time alone with their mother, and too many visitors would only exhaust Louise. George was too kind to ask her to leave, maybe he even welcomed her, but she doubted it. The family needed time alone. Time to adjust. This was a lot to deal with and they still needed to work out the problems between them.

  Molly walked with Rose to the door, and hugged her. "Thank you for coming."

  "Thank you for calling me."

  "I know how hard this is on you, Aunt Rose."

  Rose smiled at the endearment Molly hadn't used in years.

  "I'll call you if there's any change," Molly added.

  "Thanks." Rose patted Molly's back. "You take care." She kissed Molly's cheek and hurried down the hall. She had to get away. Had to go someplace where she could break down, let loose of the tears straining to get out. She didn't want to hold back anymore. Her insides trembled, and she needed to find a place to sit down.

  She hurried to the elevator and looked down at her feet.

  Dear Lord, she had on one black and one brown shoe. No wonder her feet felt funny. One had a higher heel than the other. In her haste to dress she hadn't noticed. Who in their right mind would put on two different shoes and not notice? She burst out laughing. Several people looked at her, but she didn't care. Laughing helped take some of the stress away.

  She hurried to her car, pulled open the door, almost fell on the seat and took a deep breath. She started to laugh. Loud, hysterical laughter that soon turned to deep, body-wracking sobs. She leaned her head on the steering wheel. Why had this happened? Why now before the holidays?

  Poor Louise, poor George.

  She wanted to scream. Wanted to lash out at someone, something. Anything. The best she could do was pound her fist on the steering wheel. Poor everybody. She had to get control.

  Finally cried out, at least she hoped– she wiped her eyes and pulled herself together. She had to go home. She couldn't sit here like this all day. She'd come back later and see Louise. Although, her friend wouldn't remember much of today, she had to do it. Had to see Louise again for herself. Needed to make sure she was all right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rose drove home emotionally and physically drained. She pulled into her drive and looked forward to kicking off her shoes and just letting go. She wanted a cup of tea and a comfortable chair to curl up in. Then she could cry her heart out.

  What the...? It looked like her front door stood open. She parked the car, slid out, and hurried up the walk.

  Sure enough the door swung lose on its hinges. Someone had broken in. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse, dialed nine, one, one, and ran back to her car.

  "Nine, one, one, what is your emergency?"

  "I...someone broke into my house." She could barely speak.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am you'll have to speak up."

  "Someone broke into my house," Rose repeated through tears.

  "Are they there now?"

  "I don't know. I'm outside in my car. The door is swinging lose on its hinges. The lock is broken." Rose felt like she was rambling.

  "Ma'am I need your address," the operator said.

  "Oh, uh, 351 Maple Spring Drive."

  "The police are on their way. Are you okay?"

  "I'm okay. Thank you. Goodbye." Rose hung up before the operator had time to respond. Already, she heard the sirens. She sat in her car until the police arrived.

  "Ma'am, I'm Sergeant Pilsner. Did you go into the house?"

  She shook her head.

  "Okay, stay put." He went into the house with his partner and two other police officers who had pulled up behind him.

  She sat in her car to keep warm. This was incredible. A bad day just turned worse. How could this be happening? Who'd want to rob her house? There wasn't anything of value. Not even a new stereo system. Heck her stereo was so old it didn't even play CDs. And she didn't have a computer or any other modern electronic equipment. The television was so old it still required an antenna, until Francis insisted she get a satellite dish to improve the reception.

  Why had someone broken into her house? The neighborhood had never had this kind of problem before. She'd always felt safe here. Even after Frank died she had never thought of moving. It was a good neighborhood. Had good schools. She always felt secure. Now this.

  About ten minutes later, the police officers came out. Sergeant Pilsner motioned for her to come in.

  "It's a mess in there," he said, "but I need you to tell me if anything is missing. Don't touch anything. We have a crew coming in to dust for prints"

  Rose followed Sergeant Pilsner into the house. Overturned furniture greeted her. Books strewn about, lamps knocked over and broken. Rose stared at the disarray, put her hand to her mouth, and stifled the scream that crept up her throat.

  Drawers were pulled out, their contents emptied. All her prized possessions thrown around. Some broken, others piled on top of each other. Ashes from the fireplace scattered on top of the mess.

  Someone had cut the upholstery on the couch, the stuffing oozed out. It looked like a disaster area.

  She had seen this kind of destruction on television after tornadoes or hurricanes. The only difference, her structure remained intact. Her knees wobbled. They strained to hold her up. Her body shook. Sergeant Pilsner grabbed her just before she fell.

  "I know it's bad," he said, "but this isn't the worst of it."

  Rose stared at him. What did he mean not the worst? How much worse could it get? The living room and dining room were totally destroyed.

  He led her into the kitchen. Pots and pans looked like toys, thrown around the kitchen floor and landed any which way. Flour and sugar mixed with scattered broken bits of broken dishes, from the empty cupboards. Even the cupboard doors were half torn from their hinges. Garbage dumped out of the wastebasket - mixed with syrup. Jelly and pickles and other food from the refrigerator topped off the mess.

  Rose's knees let go, and she slumped down on the floor in the middle of the debris.

  This can't be happening, it's a bad dream, she was going to wake up soon and laugh at such a nonsensical dream. No way could this happen in real life.

  Not to her.

  But it wasn't a dream. This was real.

  Sergeant Pilsner tried to help her up, but she waved him off. What was the point? She didn't want to see any more. Someone hated her, trashed her house and left her to deal with it alone.

  Who could have done this?

  She didn't know anyone who hated her so badly to cause this destruction. She lost control. Tears turned to sobs and screams came from deep inside her throat. She heard them but couldn't stop them.

  She became hysterical. She couldn't help it, didn't even want to. This was the last straw. Sobs wracked her body. She thought she heard Sergeant Pilsner say something into his radio, but she wasn't sure, didn't care.

  She didn't want to compose herself. She ignored Emma's voice inside her head. She wailed and pounded her fists against the cabinets. She couldn't deal with any more pain or heartache. She was a lonely old woman and nothing mattered anymore.

  No one cared.

  Why should they? Her friend lay in t
he hospital. The only one who supported her might be dying. She caught her breath, stopped crying, leaned against the counter and slid down farther. Nothing mattered anymore.

  "Don't give up, Rose," Emma's said through the chaos of her brain. "Don't quit. You have too much life to live."

  Rose pushed the voice away. She was tired of Emma's constant nagging. She didn't want to listen to her anymore. She'd heard enough. What did Emma know anyway? She was dead and gone. Ghost or not, Emma hadn't lived through what Rose had. Hadn't lost her husband and sister. She had no idea. What did she have to live for?

  Loneliness, sorrow?

  She'd had enough of that too. No, she just didn't care anymore. It wasn't worth it.

  Rose thought she heard sirens in the distance and suddenly people moved around the kitchen.

  Someone spoke to her. She couldn't understand them. Someone said something about the hospital, and then she had the sensation of being lifted high above all the debris. She blocked out the voices. Someone strapped something on her arm, and it squeezed. She didn't care about the discomfort.

  She felt like she was standing across the room, observing the scene. Her body felt limp, lifeless, and she didn't care. She didn't want to think. Then they were wheeling her away, jostling her, and lifting her into an ambulance.

  Someone spoke in a quiet voice, but it sounded far off in the distance. Her mind was a million miles away, yet also aware. She saw a flurry of activity around her, yet she didn't. She closed her eyes, wished it all away.

  From the start of the day to now, she wanted it gone. Wanted to wake and start the day over. Wanted to go through the routine of making coffee, running errands, or just sitting in front of the television if that's what she felt like doing.

  But she couldn't go back a niggling in her head told her. The day wasn't going to restart and somehow she had to cope.

  She kept trying to push it away, but her mind wouldn't let her. Take hold of yourself. Come back to reality.

  No, she shook her head, it was too much, she couldn't deal with it, didn't want to. By the time they reached the hospital, she knew she was in an ambulance. She opened her eyes and a young man with soft brown eyes sat next her, a concerned look on his face.

  "Hey." He smiled a big toothy grin that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

  She looked around the ambulance, not ready to answer him yet. The vision of her house, still too vivid in her mind.

  Who could have done something like that? She hadn't ever bothered anyone, usually minded her own business, at least until lately when the kids started harassing her.

  It wasn't them, she knew. They were too young. They annoyed her, but they didn't destroy stuff. No, it wasn't them. This was a vicious attack.

  The ambulance came to a stop, the back door opened, and they lifted her out. The paramedics stopped and spoke to someone, then wheeled her into a room and transferred her to the hospital cot. The nice young man patted her arm, told her she was safe and left.

  A nurse appeared next to her, placed a blood pressure cuff on her arm, looked at her and smiled. "How are you doing?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the gauge.

  "I... I think I'm okay now." Rose tried to sit up. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

  "Good." The nurse went toward the back of the small cot, moved a lever and raised her to a sitting position. "Better?"

  Rose nodded, looked around the room and tried to smile. Tears flooded her eyes, ran down her cheeks and soon turned into sobs. These sudden burst of emotion scared her. She knew she was losing her mind.

  The nurse handed her a box of tissues, patted her shoulder and said something in a soothing voice that Rose couldn't quite hear.

  She tried to dry her tears, looked at the nurse's sympathetic face and apologized.

  "It's okay. You've just gone through a traumatic experience. Go ahead and cry. It's probably the best medicine. Get it out of your system."

  If only she could get it out of her system. If it was the best medicine she should be cured by now. Rose continued to blubber. She hated this weak feeling, but also hated that she was expected to stay strong in a crisis. She didn't feel strong, not since Frank passed away. When he died, she didn't think she had any strength left. Yet, somehow, she had coped.

  "No, you escaped, hid yourself away, ignored people," Emma's voice said.

  Rose shivered. Between Emma's voice and her emotions, she was sure she was going crazy. She hadn't even been able to bring herself to tell Louise about Emma's ghost. How could she? Louise would think she had gone off the deep end. They'd probably lock her up in the psychiatric ward.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The memory of Louise lying in that hospital bed, just a few floors above her, caused the tears to flow again. She had promised to visit her friend tonight. Once they released her, she'd visit her then.

  Of course, Louise wouldn't remember anyway. The day of surgery was always so blurred, at least until the affects of the anesthesia and pain medication wore off. It would be a couple of days before Louise felt anything like human.

  The curtain moved aside and a young man with thinning blond hair came in. "Mrs. Asbury, I'm Dr. Rudolph Morgan." He extended his hand. "How are you feeling? I understand you've had quite a shock."

  After a quick exam, Dr. Morgan looked at her chart. "You're blood pressure is a little elevated but your temperature is normal. Other than emotionally, I'd say you're fine. But I'm recommending you stay the night for observation."

  Rose quickly agreed. She couldn't go home anyway. The police investigation was ongoing, and her home wasn't habitable.

  Making a mental note to contact the insurance company, she closed her eyes. Someone would have to clean up before she could return home. Already sanity had begun to return. Again, she'd remain strong and do what she had to do, like it or not. Someone had to take control and there wasn't anyone else. She had to do it herself. Always had, probably always would.

  Later, the nurse helped her settle into her room.

  "Can I visit my friend in the coronary care unit?" Rose asked

  The nurse checked with the doctor, came back and said, "Not a problem. But, you'll have to go in a wheel chair. Hospital policy. I'll arrange for a volunteer."

  Rose leaned back in the bed while she waited for someone to take her to see Louise. She still couldn't believe the mess her house was. Still couldn't think of anyone who would do something like that.

  "Rose! Uh, Mrs. Asbury?"

  Rose heard the familiar voice and looked up to see Stephen standing behind the wheel chair. Her heart skipped a beat. How handsome he looked.

  "What are you doing here? What happened? Are you okay?" She heard the concern, as well as surprise in his voice.

  "I might ask you the same thing." A tugging sensation started in the pit of her stomach. What was about this man that she reacted this way to him? Something about him calmed her while lighting a fire inside. She hadn't felt this sensation since the first time she met Frank. She ran her fingers through her hair. She must look a fright.

  "I volunteer here three days a week. What happened, Rose?"

  "How much time do you have?" Rose tried to make a joke. With everything that happened today, she doubted if she could tell him in only a few minutes.

  "As much time as you need." He smiled at her.

  A warm compassionate smile that made her heart thump wildly in her chest. "It started this morning with a phone call. My best friend had a heart attack. I was here at the hospital all day." The tears once again brimmed from her eyes. Darn, why couldn't she control herself? She hated looking weak in front of Stephen.

  "Why?" Emma asked. "You're tired of being strong, remember. Let go, be yourself? You need help, ask for it. You need friends. Stephen is offering his friendship, why not take it?

  Rose tried to shrug off the voice.

  "When I got home I discovered my house had been broken into and vandalized." It all sounded so simple in the telling. Of course she wasn
't going to go into all the emotional strain. He didn't need to hear that. Besides he was only asking to be nice. Wasn't he?

  Stephen looked shocked when she told him about the house and the disastrous condition.

  He voiced the same questions and concerns she did. "Who could have done something so malicious? Do you have any idea?"

  "No, I can't imagine what they even wanted. I have nothing of value." She looked at him and it dawned on her he was worried about Sarah. "My guess is teenagers looking for money or something... They kicked the front door damn near off its hinges, so they had to be pretty strong." That should convince him that she didn't suspect Sarah or her friends.