A White Rose

by Bekah Ferguson

  With a ragged sigh, she laid back on the yoga mat and balanced each stone on her body, from foot to head. Candlelight flickered on the shadowy walls and ceiling of the room.

  Some people called on spirit guides to help them during the cleansing ritual, but she wasn't sure how to do this and had always shied away from it. As she'd told Jason, she liked to believe in spirits, whether they be departed souls or angels, but she wasn't sure she actually wanted to see one. Jason had asked how evolution could explain the existence of spirits; she had to admit it was a contradiction of beliefs. Then again, science was the study of nature. Things like spirits and miracles couldn't be measured by science—they were supernatural. Yet if she believed in angels, why didn't she consider intelligent design possible as well? If there were angels, there could also be gods, or a God.

  The tomb was empty.

  It seemed her thoughts had become circular, every trail leading back to this same place—the empty tomb. It was as though a choice had been set before her: To believe frail arguments against the resurrection, or to believe that what history had recorded—the miraculous rising from the dead of Christ—had really happened.

  If Jesus was the God, Creator of the earth and universe, then Christianity was the one true religion. The only true religion.

  She took a deep, steadying breath and focused on the music strains; trying to subdue her thoughts. Eventually, the gemstones rolled off her body, one at a time. When the last stone rolled away, she again thought of the empty tomb and the massive boulder that had been rolled away. She knew the story: An angel had rolled away the stone. A supernatural act. But what had happened to the armed soldiers? Had they run away frightened? They would have been executed once caught; which was why she struggled to believe the disciples had stolen Christ's body—they too would have been put to death.

  She'd always prided herself on being logical—and believing Jesus had survived a Roman crucifixion and simply escaped, was not.

  Something was happening in her heart—a shift was taking place. It was as though she were on the verge of a profound transformation. Was it the meditation taking effect—a flow of energy from the universe into her aura body? Or was it the dawning realization that she'd stumbled upon a treasure hidden in the pages of history…

  No—not hidden. It had been in plain sight all along.

  But she hadn't seen it.

  Hadn't wanted to see it.

  Chapter 34

  Much to Dakota's relief, Jaelynn did not bring up the topic of Christmas Roses or Jesus Christ again that week.

  She had yet to sort her thoughts on the matter and didn't wish to discuss it again. Having always been given to debate, she was uneasy and reticent without a clear stance in place.

  When Friday came it was sunny and bright, a stark contrast to the gloomy thoughts and emotions filling her heart and mind in a continual, nagging undertone. Monday night's meditation hadn't assuaged her lonely heart as she'd hoped or smoothed out those jagged spikes of upheaval her mother's suicide had wreaked on her sense of well-being.

  Embarrassment and regret gnawed at her heart whenever she thought of Jason.

  If only she could go back in time, she wouldn't have kissed him; wouldn't have tried to manipulate him. Why had she done that anyway? Over the past six months, she'd grown to love him—more than any person she'd ever loved before—and she longed desperately for him to return that love. Yet even with all that newfound love in her heart, she hadn't kissed him as an act of affection—she'd kissed him to gain something!

  Taking rather than giving.

  Seduction was the only method she knew to win a man's heart; and then only for as long as infatuation could last. But even if she could seduce Jason, it wouldn't make him love her. She realized this instinctively and it was the reason she'd always abhorred marriage; that fear of eventually being traded in for a newer model. Up until now, she hadn't believed true love for a man was anything more than a fairy tale. She'd been with at least thirty men in her lifetime and all of them had been sexy and handsome—just like Jason—yet not one of them had captured her heart so profoundly as he; not even Ryan Hill, whose rejection had cut to the very core of her being.

  And this was why she now grieved, grieved deeply, for having betrayed Jason.

  Instead of respect, there was disrespect, instead of kindness and consideration, dishonor. She had hurt him. Beyond that indignation in his eyes, there'd been dismay… sadness.

  From now on, she was going to love him truly, without selfish ambition, regardless of how much it hurt. And despite her regret, a small, budding part of her rejoiced to know that she—wild, charismatic Dakota Reilly—could love a man.

  Christmas was only three weeks away and she still hadn't erected her artificial Christmas tree. She intended to forgo the tradition for the first time. No one was going to visit unannounced anyway. In past years she'd occasionally served a turkey dinner to Mona and whoever Mona's current beau had been, but this year was to be her first Christmas without friends or family. Her friends were still out there of course; passively waiting on the wings. And Clarice's door was always open… Perhaps she would change her mind at the last minute and at least attend a party—but for now she'd acquiesced to stay home and hibernate until it was all over.

  ***

  At lunchtime that day, Dakota went to a nearby Pita Pit and returned to the flower shop just after twelve thirty with two chicken souvlaki pitas. There were no customers at present and she invited Jaelynn to the back room to join her for a lunch break.

  “I've been meaning to ask you something,” Jaelynn said, opening a small blue and white carton of milk.

  Dakota unwrapped her whole wheat pita and smiled at the girl. “Anything, as long as it has nothing to do with philosophy.” She laughed and winked; intending to keep the mood light.

  “Oh no, nothing like that.” A mischievous grin. She took a sip of milk and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Mom, Jay and I are helping out with the Salvation Army soup kitchen tomorrow over the lunch hour and Jason wondered if you might want to join us.”

  A soup kitchen? Jason had asked?

  She hadn't heard from him even once since he'd shunned her on his doorstep.

  “What's involved?” she said, keeping her expression neutral.

  “Well, we prepare a meal, serve it to the guests and then wash up the dishes afterwards. It's a lot of fun.” She unwrapped her pita.

  “How often do you guys do this?”

  “Oh, every Christmas—” she said, lifting the bulging sandwich. “Since we were kids. My parents wanted us to learn to care for the less fortunate… I think I was maybe ten when we first started volunteering.”

  Dakota pushed back her chair and went to the counter to pour a cup of coffee. “I thought Jason was mad at me,” she said over her shoulder, dumping a spoonful of Coffee-mate into her mug.

  “… I don't know anything about that,” Jaelynn said, glancing up; a curious note in her voice. “All I know is that he suggested I invite you.” She took a bite of her pita and chewed slowly, speaking with her mouth full. “Why would he be mad at you?”

  Dakota let out a sigh as she went back to her seat and plunked down her mug on the wooden tabletop, nearly sloshing its contents. “I made a move on him.”

  Jaelynn's eyes widened. The corner of her mouth twitched upward and she laughed. A clump of creamy chicken and lettuce fell out of the upraised pita and splattered on the wrapper beneath it. “I'm sorry,” she said, still laughing, “really, it's not funny.” More laughter escaped as she shook her head and tried to calm herself. She set down the pita and reached for a napkin.

  Dakota sipped her coffee; eying the girl somberly. “It's a lost cause, isn't it.”

  “I really have no idea,” she said, scrunching her brow, composed now. “Sometimes I think he's turning into a hermit, at least, in the dating department. He hasn't officially dated anyone since his fiancée left him. In fact, I'm surprised how much time he's spent with you
over the past few months. He must really enjoy your company. But—when he sets his mind to something, there's no changing it.”

  “And?”

  “You might have scared him off. In which case, he'll probably back off, big time.” A blip of laughter escaped her pursed lips. “What were you thinking!”

  “Look—I'm used to making the first move, okay?”

  “But this is Jason we're talking about.”

  Dakota finished off her sandwich, rolling her eyes. “I get it—I'm an idiot. I just thought… I hoped—” She downed some coffee, realizing she was saying too much. She leaned back in her chair then and let out a long sigh. “I don't know if I should come to the soup kitchen tomorrow, Jaelynn. It'll just be awkward.”

  “It doesn't have to be awkward. Besides—he suggested it.” She grinned. “I'm sure you can make it up to him… ”

  “How?”

  “Treat him like a brother. He once told me that he always treats his women friends like sisters. He said something like, 'If I keep in mind that this woman is probably going to be married someday, then I'll honor her the way I hope my future wife will've been honored by the men in her life.' ”

  Dakota stared at Jason's real sister, remembering the time she'd challenged Jason at the fishing creek, suggesting he loosen up and have some fun. He'd said, “I refuse to treat women like prostitutes.”

  “He does treat me like a sister,” she said, gazing at her coffee mug absently. “He gives me a comforting hug when I need it. He takes my hand when we cross rough or mucky ground in the forest. He even opens doors for me when we go somewhere together!” She paused. Frowned. “I've given him plenty of opportunities to spend the night with me, but it's like he's from another time period.”

  She glanced up then and found Jaelynn smiling at her.

  “He is one of a kind, isn't he?” A wistful expression clouded Jaelynn's face and she looked away. “Believe it or not, there are other men out there like him too.”

  What was that far-off look about? It was a though the girl spoke of someone specific; someone who'd been in her own life.

  A lost love, perhaps?

  “All right,” she said decidedly, “I'll come to the soup kitchen.”

  ***

  The next morning, Dakota dressed in dark stone-washed jeans and her favorite chartreuse sweater. Her amber roots had grown in several millimeters and could no longer be hidden. They weren't to the point of distaste just yet, but it was clear enough that ash-blond wasn't her natural hair color.

  For a handful of seconds she vacillated between running to the pharmacy for a quick, do-it-yourself dye job, or simply pulling her hair up in a clip and letting the whole world know the truth. She hadn't worn a bandanna all week, as originally planned, and was almost certain Jaelynn had noticed the roots. But—she no longer had a lover and wasn't clubbing with the ladies; so there really was no one left to impress.

  What was this turmoil within her then—this fear of Jason knowing she wasn't blond?

  She didn't want to be found a fake, that was all. And couldn't bear the thought of being seen as the woman she'd buried deep inside so many years ago…

  How many times had she wished she could just brush back her hair, throw on a touch of makeup and be out the door? She wanted that kind of simplicity.

  Longed for it.

  But every time she tried, she just couldn't follow through. Once she'd even made it as far as the end of the driveway before running back inside in a panic to put on heavier makeup and jewelry—and this for a mere trip to the grocery store. The only person she was comfortable to be around without makeup, was Clarice. But makeup mattered to her friends. Greatly. And it mattered to the majority of her lovers—all of them, she supposed. And one might run into an acquaintance anywhere… Would her hair color matter to Jason, too? Even with all the time they'd spent together over the fall, she still wondered if the only thing holding together their unlikely friendship was her physical attractiveness.

  Mona Reilly was naturally a fair brunette, and had dyed her hair black for as long as Dakota could remember. Neither she nor her mother had been willing to be their natural selves. Neither wished to be considered a plain Jane or a country hick.

  Dakota let out a long exhale and squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. She would not give in to a rushed dye job, not this time, and she pulled a portion of wavy hair back into a sterling-silver barrette. The hairdo masked most of the amber roots, fortunately, but there was little she could do about her hair line.

  She studied her reflection carefully in the bathroom mirror.

  She hadn't yet applied any makeup and her spray of freckles seemed to stand out like dots of mud. Well, maybe they weren't that bad. In reality, they were pale freckles—a few running along her inner cheekbones and over the bridge of her nose. But she'd been covering them with concealer and foundation for fifteen years now, and the naked sight of them seemed stark and ugly in contrast. Too natural. Amber roots and freckles? No, it was too much all at once.

  Baby steps.

  She applied her makeup as usual, slipped in some small hoop earrings and went downstairs to put on her belted wool coat and high-heeled boots, tugging her splayed pant legs down over them. It was an overcast winter day—cold air on the dry side. The chilled ground crunched beneath her boots as she approached her vehicle. She tossed her mitts on the passenger seat and drove the handful of kilometers to the Salvation Army Mission Centre at the bottom of Bayfield Street, near the bay; parallel-parking her SUV along the street and recognizing Jason's KIA station wagon parked nearby.

  Entering the rectangular beige building, she found tables and chairs spread about neatly and a handful of volunteers milling around the Centre's kitchen, preparing the noon-day meal.

  Jaelynn and Bonnie were side by side; Jaelynn sitting on a stool while slicing and buttering a huge mound of dinner rolls. Jason stood next to a guest table, talking to a pretty brunette who held a clipboard. He nodded a brief, impersonal greeting at Dakota before turning back to the woman. After a rush of jealousy, she spotted a diamond ring flashing on the woman's ring finger and let out a breath of relief.

  She approached Jaelynn, who grinned at the sight of her. “Yay! You're here!” she said.

  Bonnie turned around and smiled as well. “Hello, Dakota. It's nice to see you again.” Her smile was reserved, as it had been the first time they met, but her voice was friendly enough.

  Had Bonnie sensed her lustful appetite for Jason at the BBQ? There seemed to be a look of distrust in her eyes. Certainly Dakota's pursuit of him had begun that way—but it had grown sincere and authentic over time. She could only hope she'd have the opportunity to portray that to Bonnie someday. But would she have the chance? Perhaps it was already too late.

  After being introduced to the other volunteers, Dakota set to work and was soon dishing out portions of salad onto the plates of one guest after another. It wasn't long before most of the tables and chairs were filled with men and women alike; some as young as their teens and others reaching old age. From noon to one o'clock, she and the other volunteers kept so busy that there was no opportunity to speak one-on-one with Jason. Whenever they happened to cross paths, he seemed his usual, genial self.

  If there were any residual traces of disdain, they were undetectable.

  Had he forgiven her?

  ***

  Later, as Dakota was putting away clean dishes, she noticed one of the guests staring at her with a piercing, almost intimate gaze. There was something familiar about him but she couldn't place it. He was wearing threadbare jeans, a winter coat and a toque pulled down over his forehead and ears. He might have been good-looking if it weren't for his pasty skin and shifty, blood-shot eyes.

  A trickle of unease moved through her midsection. Why did he keep staring at her like that? She shuddered.

  A few minutes later, Dakota went out to the guest tables to wipe up a cup of juice that had been knocked over. The young man sat only a few chairs down from the
spill and she diligently avoided his gaze as she wiped up the mess. But before she could leave, he pushed back his chair and sidled up to her; a broad grin on his stubbled face.

  “Da-a-a-kota,” he drawled, draping an arm over her shoulders. She went rigid, dropping the wash cloth. Something didn't look right in his eyes.

  Those eyes…

  Her stomach turned and heat rushed to her cheeks. Oh no… It was that tanned mechanic she'd seduced several years ago! But what was he doing here and like this—?

  She glanced at his face and cringed, remembering.

  There'd been drugs. An addiction to cocaine. It hadn't mattered at the time, since he was holding a good job and a level head; but now… Well, the drugs must have taken a toll.

  She shucked off his arm, glancing about to see if anyone had noticed.

  “Hey everybody,” he spoke loudly as she jerked away, “it's Dakota! My girlfriend!”

  He reached for her again and she slapped his hand away. “Get away from me,” she hissed, “I don't know you!”

  Several people had turned their attention to them by now, including Jason. Her heart hammered in her chest as he began to make his way over. If only she could disappear into thin air! Like a wild animal, she bolted from the ex-lover, avoiding Jason's knowing eyes, and dashed into a kitchen pantry; yanking the door shut behind her as tears stung her eyes. She blinked rapidly and breathed deeply, stopping the tears. How could this have happened? Of all the former “boyfriends” to possibly run into, why him? Why now and like this?