“Samantha, would you‒‒”
“My mother calls me Samantha when I’ve done something wrong. Why don’t you call me Sam, okay.”
Samantha had been working part time at the hospital, thanks to her psychiatrist, Dr. Richard Kline, who arranged with Vicky to find her some work where she would still be able to keep her appointments with him, and bring home a paycheck. It was an easy job that didn’t require too much interaction, but still, she felt out of place with everyone else.
“Sam, would you mind taking these files down to HR for me?”
“Sure, mind if I swing by the coffee shop and get a latte? I can’t get enough of them since I got back from Syria.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea. Let me treat.” Dakota pulled a ten out of her pocket and handed it to Samantha, “And would you mind picking me up a double-shot latte buttercream?”
“Sounds good, think I’ll try one of those too. But I have to admit, the coffee we had in Syria, now that stuff was really strong compared to these lattes.”
“Was the food there very good?” Dakota asked.
“Some of it was, once I got use to it, but then I was such a lousy cook, it was hard to tell.” Samantha chuckled and Dakota was pleased to see a smile on her face. Though Samantha was friendly and approachable, she didn’t smile much. But then, she didn’t really have much to smile about. She had no control of her life, no say over any part of it. But when she did smile, those around her were captivated by it. “About the only thing I miss from there is the Baklava. When I was pregnant, my husband would bring me some every so often. It was deliciously sweet.”
“Your husband?”
“Oh, yeah.” I am so not going down that memory lane with her. “Listen, I’ll get these files to HR and be right back with your coffee.”
Samantha grabbed the files and headed out the door. Dakota watched her go with a quizzical look on her face. She hadn’t realized that she was married…, to a man. She was pretty sure that Samantha was a lesbian, like she was. But Dakota didn’t have time to analyze what that meant exactly, because something caught her eye. Lying open, on Samantha’s desk was a sheet of old, worn brown, paper, hand‒written, with the title in bold letters that said, Wait for Me Death. In spite of herself, Dakota picked up the creased paper and began to read it.”
I am floating all alone in a small boat, in a smaller pond.
A pond made up of my own tears.
I try not to float to near the shore, where death awaits me.
But deaths pull is great and I am weak.
Wait for me, death,
I grow tired of the struggle.
“Oh, my God!” Dakota thought, she’s planning to kill herself. She read it again, and this time the realization of how deep this woman’s pain was, brought tears to her eyes. She told herself that she must do something, anything, to show Samantha that suicide was not the answer. She wasn’t sure what she should do, she just knew she had to do something. She went into her office and did some research online. Not really knowing the particulars of Samantha’s captivity or her background before she was captured, Dakota looked for tips that she, as almost a total stranger, could use to help her.
Exercise, get them out in the sunshine, call them, get them to eat healthy, call them again. These are all things I could do, she thought. Dakota formed a plan of action and immediately set it into motion.
“Here’s your latte, Dakota.” Samantha entered the office suite, carrying two cups of coffee.
Dakota took her coffee and said, “Let’s take a walk.”
“Uh, okay, sure, you’re the boss.”
“Oh, um, the fresh air helps clear my head, but I hate to walk alone, do you mind?”
“No, that sounds good, let’s go.”
Dakota and Samantha walked down the entrance way, toward the park that adjoined the hospital. It was a small park with a walking track, bordered by flower beds and giant Oak trees.
“Isn’t it beautiful out here? Smell that fresh air.” Dakota said a little too cheerfully.
“Smells like car exhaust to me, but it is nice out here, like you said.”
“I try to come out here a couple of times a week at least, just to get some light therapy. Say, why don’t you join me. We both could probably use the break from work and the exercise is a bonus.”
“That’s really nice of you to ask, Dakota.” Is she hitting on me?
“Please, call me Dak,” Dakota suddenly had a brainstorm, “Listen, I’ve got court time to play tennis and my tennis partner can’t come. Would you take her place?”
“Tennis? I’ve never played tennis before. I wouldn’t be any good at it.”
“You don’t know, you might have some hidden talent you haven’t explored yet. And I’ll be happy to teach you. You won’t have to worry about a thing, I’ve got a racket you can use and everything. Say you will, it’ll be fun!”
“Uh, sure, I guess so.” Oh God, what if I blank out in front of her? “Um, no, on second thought, maybe I shouldn’t‒‒”
“What? Why? What changed your mind Samantha?”
“I uh…” I don’t want to lie, but it’s just too embarrassing.
“Here, let’s sit on this bench and talk.” Dakota led them over to the bench.
Feeling slightly cornered, Samantha decided just to tell her the truth. “Dr. Kline says I’m suffering from PTSD, and I’m afraid that I’ll go blank again.”
“Go blank? What happens when you go blank, Sam?”
“I don’t really know. One minute I’m drying a dish, the next minute I’m on the floor terrified someone’s about to beat me. It’s incredibly embarrassing for me and to be honest with you, I don’t want people to see me like that.” I don’t want to hurt you like I did Jerry. Always forefront in her mind, Samantha still carried the guilt of stabbing Jerry in the back while he helped Aidan and Vicky rescue her in Syria, even though she wasn’t cognizant of doing it.
“Oh my gosh! How horrible for you.”
“Any little thing can set it off, and I have no way of knowing when an episode is coming.”
“Is there a cure for that?”
“No, only time, which I’m running out of.”
Dakota feared she was referring to being suicidal. “Tell you what, if you go ‘blank’ while we’re playing tennis, then I win the match. Deal?”
She’s kinda okay, Samantha thought, “Deal.”
Chapter Six
The newlyweds were awakened by the sound of a high pitched horse nay, or so they thought at first. It was really a Kingfisher, calling out the morning light. The Kingfisher, a medium size, blue feathered, long beaked bird lives by the river, and loves to hear himself resonate. Vicky thought the small creature was beautiful, but Aidan wanted to throw her boot at him for waking her up.
Although the romanticism of the previous night provided each woman with an extended, erotic satisfaction, the morning light found them hungry and in need of a bath. That’s when Aidan suggested skinny dipping. Stripping down to nothing, she ran for the river’s edge and jumped into the water. Vicky watched her curiously, becoming somewhat aroused. She followed suit and stripped down, then waded into the water, squealing at its cold temperature. As soon as Vicky was fully submerged, Aidan swam between her legs, producing a surprise that was reciprocated with a splash of cold water in Aidan’s face when she surfaced.
Aidan tried for a couple of hours to catch a fish for breakfast, but she was unsuccessful and very disappointed. She knew that if she couldn’t catch something to eat soon, they would have to leave their little slice of heaven and find civilization again. But even if she had caught something, Vicky did not feel the same way about staying.
“Sweetheart, as much as I would love to stay here with you the rest of my life, I don’t like being unreachable for too long a time.” Vicky was not only referring to the fact that her father had just had major heart surgery a few weeks prior, and she had been out of the country then too, but that she was worried about miss
ing a call from Joyce. “I’m worried about Joyce’s eyesight, and don’t want to miss a call, should anything happen.”
“You’re right, we should go.” Aidan found herself actually glad that she had only one person in her life that she would worry about like that, and that person was with her now.
The women dressed and got back in the boat, heading down river to the nearest town. Much to Vicky’s amusement, the town had only been a few minutes away. They enjoyed a huge breakfast at a local café, then rented a car and drove the thirty kilometer’s, or nineteen miles, back to Fermoy and their hotel. They showered off their wilderness experience and checked out, arranging for one of the two rented cars they now had, to be returned to the rental company. Back on the narrow Irish road, the lovers drove past rolling hills of checkerboard pastures and sheep farms, until they came to their next stop.
Cork city, Ireland, land of the liquid consonants, was a place that Vicky wanted to tour because of the famous church tower of Shandon, better known as the Church of St. Anne. The church, sitting on top of a hill overlooking the River Lee, in the Shandon district of Cork, was built with red sandstone from the original Shandon castle, on the north and east side of the bell tower, and white limestone on the south and west side. The tower had a clock on each face that the locals named The Four Faced Liar, because none of the clocks kept the same time. As beguiling as the tower was, it was the bells of Shandon that Vicky was most interested in seeing.
The church had eight bells that can be rung by one person using an Ellacombe apparatus. They were first rung in 1752, and today, tourist are welcome to ring the bells themselves. The bells are quite heavy, the largest one weighing over a ton, and it requires two hands to pull the rope down, or in Vicky’s case, two hands and a leg pushing against the stone wall. The strings to the bells are numbered, and tucked behind the strings was sheet music. Aidan trained her video camera on Vicky, trying not to laugh as Vicky worked up a sweat, pulling and tugging at the rope.
Then the two climbed three flights of stairs. Narrow, spiraled, stone steps, up to where the bells sat encased in wood to reduce vibration. And even though they were wearing noise reduction ear muffs, the sounds of the bells reverberated in their ears. They climbed one more flight of claustrophobic stairs to reach the top of the tower, marveling at the panoramic view of the city. Cork was much larger than either of them first thought, and were told that it had a population of over one hundred, nineteen thousand people. Vicky noted that it was eighty thousand people short of being the same size as Little Rock. After spending money and time shopping in Cork, the newlyweds got back on the road, heading toward their next adventure.
The Blarney Castle, also located in County Cork, is perhaps one of the most recognized castles in all of Ireland. Recognized not for the kings who possessed it, or the battles waged from it, but for the Stone of Eloquence, known as the Blarney Stone. It is said that kissing the stone will give the kisser the gift of eloquence, though through the years, blarney had become known as the gift of deceptive flattery. The block of bluestone is wedged in the machicolation at the top of the battlement, and one literally has to hang outside the wall in order to kiss it. There are many tall tales as to how that particular piece of stone came to be kissable, but no one really seems to know the factual story of the first person to kiss it.
Just reaching the top of the keep can be an adventure in and of its self. The stairwell, much like that of the Shandon bell tower, only narrower, had steps that a person’s toes barely fit on. It spiraled straight up in an enclosed tower of rock, and if that person had even a hint of claustrophobia, they would have a difficult time of it. There’s just barely enough room for one person to squeeze through. Aidan especially loved the climb because her view ascending the steps was of Vicky’s behind. Several times during the climb she gallantly helped her wife up the steps by pinching her butt.
Once they reached the top and took in the fresh air from the roof of the keep, Vicky completely lost herself in the passion of it all. She pulled Aidan first one way and then another, asking her to imagine what they must have seen back in medieval times. Did the king bring his queen up there for a quiet moment under the stars? Or perhaps it was a secret rendezvous with the scullery maid. Did they have swashbuckling sword fights atop the keep, or possibly the king knighted a loyal soldier there? While Vicky’s youthful imagination ran away with her, Aidan smiled from deep inside her heart. She loved how Vicky could find romance in everything, even in a bunch of old stones, and seeing Ireland through her lover’s eyes, was more entertaining than climbing over all the castles in Europe.
When it was their turn to kiss the stone, Vicky watched as Aidan laid down on the cold stone floor. Lying on her back, Aidan scooted herself through the opening in the wall until only her behind was touching the floor. As the old caretaker held her legs, just above the knees, something she didn’t much care for, she grabbed the iron rails and pulled herself up until she was level with the stone. Looking straight down, she felt a momentary twinge of panic when she saw people standing below, looking up at her. They were the size of ants. If she fell, she wouldn’t be getting back up again anytime soon. But then she realized that just below her, there were iron bars embedded into the wall bent into the shape of a basket, to prevent such things, so she returned her concentration back to touching her lips to the block of bluestone. It felt cold and coarse, and tasted like gravel. Vicky stood ready with the camera and snapped pictures just as Aidan kissed the Blarney stone.
When it came time for Vicky to kiss the stone, she declined. She wasn’t sure if it was the fear of falling, or the height, or maybe the fear of losing her breakfast? What she wouldn’t admit to, for fear of being perceived as silly, was that it was the sudden onset of Mysophobia that kept her from partaking in the ritual. She was afraid of the germs from kissing a rock that thousands of people had kissed before her. Watching Aidan kiss the stone was enough to feel that she had experienced the castle to its fullest.
“So kid, do I sound more eloquent?” Aidan grinned.
“Not enough to persuade me to kiss that thing,” Vicky replied.
There’s more to the Blarney Castle than just the blarney stone. It is surrounded by beautiful gardens with a babbling brook running past it. They found one of the gardens especially unique, in that it only had poisonous plants in it, hence its name, Poison Garden. Aidan found the garden intriguing for the mystery of the way those plants had been used back in medieval times. There were some plants with signs warning that it was dangerous to even touch them. The warning sign read that the mere touch of one of those plants could cause harmful reactions in some people. The nurse’s side of Vicky was more interested in the plants medicinal purposes, and fantasized about healthcare back in medieval times. It was one thing to romanticize about it, but she definitely did not want to live in those times.
After traversing through the gardens, Aidan noticed a trail leading away from the castle and she wanted to see where it led to, so with Vicky following close behind, they ventured off down a secluded path that paralleled the brook. Before they knew it, they had completely left civilization behind. At least the civilization they could see. They came to rest at a stone wall that overlooked a pasture, where sheep were grazing in the furthest corner. It was beautiful in its simplicity, romantic in its beauty.
Aidan helped Vicky up on the fence and then climbed up beside her, and the newlyweds sat on the stone fence, holding hands, and enjoying the cool breeze rustling through the trees. They didn’t talk, they just relished the quiet solitude of the beautiful landscape, the clear blue sky, the chirping birds, and the closeness of the other beside them. Soon, a thumb began to rub a palm, a leg moved closer, feet intertwined, eyes interlocked. The two lovers looked at each other, grinned a mischievous grin, and crouched down behind the wall of stones. They made love right there in the pasture full of sheep. Not that they weren’t aware of what they were doing, it was just that the thought of doing something they probably shouldn’t be
doing out in the open, was stronger than the pull of common sense. After all, it can be very sexually arousing when doing something that could be seen as potentially scandalous.
“Oh, my God, Aidan, we just made love in a sheep pasture, of all places,” Vicky giggled, her loins still tingling.
“Why don’t we sneak back into castle and do it there too?”
“You’re incorrigible!”
Aidan laugh, “And that’s a bad thing?”
“I am having so much fun here, with you. Everything seems more exciting when I’m with you.”
“I know what you mean, baby. I never knew there was so much romance in the world until I saw it through your eyes. It makes me feel younger and much more, uh, energetic,” Aidan replied with a grin.
The two talked for a bit longer and then the warm sun and cool breeze lulled them to sleep in each other’s arms, in the pasture shaded by the Blarney Castle.
“Oh, your breath is so warm, honey,” Vicky murmured.
“Baby, let’s sleep in, okay?” Aidan grunted and draped her arm over Vicky’s stomach.
A few minutes later Vicky mumbled again, “Oh, that feels so good, darling.”
Aidan opened one eye and looked at her. Then she opened the other eye and clapped a hand over her mouth to smother her laughter. She slowly eased her arm from under Vicky, and quickly grabbed the camera and began filming.
The flock of sheep had wandered over to where they had laid sleeping, and one of them was nuzzling on Vicky’s neck. But Aidan’s movements alarmed it, and the ewe let out a loud bleat.
Remember, It's Our Honeymoon Page 7