The Crying Rose: The Trilogy of the Rose (Volume 1) Page 10

  As he held her within his embrace, Sami’s shaking seemed to subside. Puzzled, Mark looked down at her. All at once it hit him. “So that’s what you need, little one. You want the security offered within my arms. If that’s what you need right now, you got it.” Mark decided to try what his instinct had suggested earlier. With Sami already in his embrace, he stood up and turned back towards the bed. He turned to Grandma Jo. “Would you please move the afghan?” he asked. It had fallen off when he had moved Sami earlier. Grandma Jo grabbed the afghan, tossing it to the end of the bed.

  With the afghan out of the way, Mark placed Sami back on the bed. As he released her, the tremors started again. He grabbed the covers, and arranged them over her body. Grandma Jo eyed him strangely, but didn’t voice her thoughts. He walked around to the other side of the bed as Sami shook uncontrollably. Crawling onto the bed to reach her, he intertwined their bodies giving her the warmth and the security he thought that she needed. Sami’s shaking lessened as she snuggled within his embrace.

  Mark looked up at Grandma Jo. Her face registered surprise but also understanding. “See if you can find me a pillow or something to support my head,” he begged. “I do not know how long I will be able to keep my head in this position before cramping will begin.”

  Feeling a little bit uncomfortable just standing there, Grandma Jo was eager to fulfill his request. She placed the mug, still in her hand, back on the tray, and tossed the towel on the end of the bed. Scanning the room, she spotted the closet door and moved in that direction. “You won’t find anything in there,” Mark commented as he noticed where she was heading. “I have already been in there.”

  Grandma Jo glanced at him and turned back. Spotting the cedar chest, she proceeded to it. “I’ll check the chest behind you,” she said. He only nodded in response.

  Mark heard Grandma Jo open the chest. Several moments passed. “Well, is it empty also?” he questioned her.

  “No,” came the one word response.

  “Tell me then, any pillows?”

  “No,” she again responded.

  Mark’s curiosity almost made him move, but he held back. “So, what is in there?” he demanded, irritated by her lack of answers.

  She sighed. “It appears to be her past.”

  “Her what?”

  “The chest seems to be stuffed with items that belonged to her husband--clothes, awards, photo albums, odds and ends. It appears that she holds her memories in here.” She was touched at the sight.

  Mark remembered that there were four chests in this house. How he wanted desperately to open them now, and probe their contents. Yet, that would have to wait, for he had more pressing matters at the moment.

  He knew that Grandma Jo was caught up in the emotional significance of the items in that chest, but he needed the pillows now. “Leave it,” he requested. “We can journey down memory lane later.”

  “Oh,” Grandma Jo said. “Sorry, I forgot.” Leaving the chest open she hurried out of the room to continue her search.

  She entered the library across the hall. Mark heard her open the closet and close it, heard her open, what he thought might be the chest in that room, then heard it close. She appeared briefly, before turning down the hall. Mark could see her, in his mind’s eye, continuing to check all possible storage places. His neck was beginning to stiffen, and he was fairly sure that her search would come up empty. As he waited, he weighed his options. He heard a faint “Found them!” coming from somewhere down the hall, as if she was on the other side of the world. My God, he thought, where did she have to go–China?

  Grandma Jo appeared in the doorway, and her arms were stuffed with pillows. She displayed a satisfied smile on her face reminding Mark of the tale of the cat that had eaten the canary. He smiled his gratitude as she headed in his direction. He lifted his head for her to stuff a pillow under it, and laid his head back on the pillow. A small sigh escaped him as his neck muscles relished the support.

  “Thanks,” he sighed. This response was coming straight from his heart.

  “You’re welcome, kind sir.” Grandma Jo blushed as she positioned the extra pillows behind him. “Mark,” she began anxiously, “I saw some very interesting things in my search.” She moved around the bed so that she could face him.

  “I figured as much by the expression on your face.” His eyes narrowed as he spoke. He indicated to her to sit on the edge of the bed. She sat, not taking her eyes off his face.

  “The closet in the library has only three items--a vacuum cleaner, a carpet cleaning machine and a carpet rake.” Grandma Jo held up one finger as she spoke wanting to make sure she remembered everything in order. The carpet rake makes sense, he thought. Mark watched her as she uncurled the next finger. “The cedar chest in that room has a computer, and what I believe to be, journals.” His palms began itching, how he would love to get those babies in his hands. She slowly released the third finger, “The craft room closet has been stuffed with framed paintings. That’s it, just paintings. I’m not sure if they are her works or others.” Mark found himself wanting to scream at her. He wanted to know what was in the other chests.

  As she dramatically lined up her baby finger with the others, Mark’s heart was hammering in his ears. “The two cedar chests in that room appear to hold more memories for her. The first has items that would seem to be her mother’s things. But Mark, it’s the contents of the other one that broke my heart.” She stopped talking, choking back the tears.

  Mark was baffled. What could be in that chest that would cause this pain? He waited, not wanting to force her until she had time to recoup.

  “Baby things!” Grandma Jo cried, wiping the tears from her face. “Oh, Mark. Why is she hiding these items? What does it mean?” She was asking the same questions that were racing in his mind.

  So lost in the images that Grandma Jo’s had been relating, Mark had forgotten that he was curled around Sami. It dawned on him that her once shaking body was now still. It was very still, he thought. Before he could respond to Grandma Jo’s questions, he was startled by the utterance of a single word, sharply spoken, and coming from Sami’s direction. “Nothing!” And with that, Sami untangled herself violently from his embrace, causing him to be tossed backwards onto the bed.

  She was back, and mad as a wet hen!

  ***

  SIXTEEN

  Sami glared at him with blazing eyes filled with anger. “Who are you? What are you doing in my bed?”

  Mark found himself missing the dazed Sami already. Be careful Mark, he thought, don’t give her an inch. Before he answered, he took his time getting his bearings. He sat up staring into her burning eyes. Let her stew, he thought. Presenting his back to her glaring eyes, he got to his feet. He stood facing the wall, rearranging his clothes, until he was sure that everything was in the right place. Drawing himself to his full height, he deliberately kept his back toward her.

  Sami again barked out the demand, “Who are you?”

  Inwardly, Mark flinched at the tone of her voice, but knew that his actions were the best way to handle the current situation. He wasn’t going to respond to her at that moment, fearing that he would be caught in her anger. He needed something to focus his mind on until the timing was right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the open cedar chest that Grandma Jo had told him about earlier. He stared at it, making a mental list of the items she had described. Even though his mind was occupied, he still felt Sami’s eyes boring into his back. He could hear her rapid breathing, and knew that his apparent indifference seemed to be working. He knew that she only had two options available to her--she could either get madder or back down. He was hoping for the second possibility. He concentrated on her breathing to gauge her level of anger. By the sounds coming from her, he knew it was a standoff with neither side willing to break their commitment. He prayed that Grandma Jo could read his mind, and would not intervene in the standoff. Suddenly realizing that Sami’s breathing was becoming slower and more even, he felt his hope
rise.

  “I asked you a question, sir,” Sami remarked now more in control of her anger.

  Mark turned around to face her. Their identical brown eyes locked. “I would be ever so happy to answer your question, if and when you get off that broomstick you’re on,” he stated flatly.

  Sami’s eyes softened at his request. “Deal,” she responded with a hint of laughter behind her word.

  Sami’s eyes never left the tall, extremely good-looking man with the boyish grin on his face. She was confused, but she was not afraid of this man for some reason. She needed answers to the numerous questions that were shouting inside her head. As she watched this man, whomever he was, start moving around the end of the bed, her vision blurred. She felt oddly out of sort, like she was drugged. As the man stopped, Sami realized that there was someone else with him. My mind is playing tricks, she thought. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to clear her vision. Opening her eyes, she viewed two very concerned faces.

  The woman, standing beside this man, looked familiar. Complete chaos erupted inside her head. Question after question jumped into her mind, too many for her to completely understand, but each burning to be answered.

  The man’s lips started moving. Apparently, he was saying something. Sami tried to calm her mind down in order to concentrate on his words, but it was a losing battle. She held up her hand, the palm facing the man, indicating for him to stop. She needed time to regroup her thoughts, to quiet her mind.

  At that movement, a very strong sensation coursed through Sami, so strong in intensity that it penetrated the turmoil in her head. “Wait,” she cried out, probably louder than intended, “excuse me a second.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, noticing as she did the two people in the room moved in her direction. She again held up her hand signaling for them to stop. They both did as she directed.

  Using the bed as support, Sami pushed up and found herself on her feet. She tested her balance. Glancing down, she was surprised that she was fully clothed. When did I get dressed? This question was added to the others that were rushing around in her head. She had to admit that her body seemed in much better condition than her mind. Without glancing in the direction of the two people in the room, she headed directly for her master bathroom. Once inside, she closed the door.

  Witnessing Sami’s quick departure, Mark and Grandma Jo looked at each other at the same time. “Well, at least she is functioning,” Grandma Jo remarked.

  That did it! That observation broke the tension they had both been under all day. Mark started laughing and Grandma Jo followed suit, both caught up in fits of laughter. Laughing so hard that, in order to regain composure, they had to keep from looking at each other. Both were crying from their efforts, and trying desperately, but unsuccessfully to stop. When Sami emerged from the bathroom, they both looked guilty, like little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

  “What the devil is going on here?” Sami snapped.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mark caught a glimpse of Grandma Jo’s face, and the laughter erupted again. Unable to speak, Grandma Jo glanced at Sami as she rushed past her, entering the room that Sami had just vacated. Grandma Jo needed to distance herself from Mark. Sami looked at the closed bathroom door, and then back at the man. He was bent over with his hands on his knees gasping for air, and was focusing on the floor between his feet.

  Sami shrugged her shoulders as she moved back to the bed. She rearranged the pillows, wondering how they had gotten on her bed. Shaking her head in confusion, she concentrated on positioning herself on the bed. She sat down and pulled the covers around her, clasped her hand on her lap and faced the man, watching him try to regain his composure.

  When Mark stood up, Sami was watching him like a hawk. “Are you quite through now?” she spoke sharply.

  Mark nodded, wiping the tears away from his face, not yet trusting his voice. He noticed that this woman was sitting erect, appearing like a queen on her throne awaiting a report from her court. He grimaced. This was going to be a lot harder than he originally thought.

  Sami smiled in satisfaction as she watched his face reveal his thoughts. This man will be like putty in my hand, easily molded. “I’m pretty sure that the woman in the bathroom is Grandma Jo,” Sami started. As if on cue, Grandma Jo emerged from the bathroom. Sami nodded to her. “So, I can assume that you are from the clinic.”

  “You are correct,” Mark answered.

  Grandma Jo made her way around the room to the recliner and sat down. She turned her attention to the conversation that was taking place, not wanting to miss a single word.

  “What do you remember?” Mark asked Sami. He needed to know where to begin as well as to take control of the conversation. He had to know what she remembered.

  A hazy expression clouded her face as she tried to recall her last memory. “Honestly, not much,” Sami answered.

  Mark needed more, so he dug deeper. “Okay. What was your last memory?”

  Sami thought hard. “Standing at the front door.”

  “Good,” Mark encouraged. “Anything else?”

  Sami fixed her angry eyes on him. “I told you already, that is the last thing I remember!”

  Mark felt like he had been hit with a sledgehammer as her words blasted into him. “Okay,” he lashed back at her. In a softer tone, he tried to reassure her. “I’m not calling you a liar. I just wanted to know where to begin.”

  Sami sat back smiling. This is going to be fun, she thought. She gave him a nod, signaling him to begin.

  Mark gritted his teeth, wanting to wipe that pompous smile off her face. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction or the opportunity to start playing this role. He needed a few seconds to pull the facts together. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. The aroma of the stew and tea, sitting on the chest of drawers, reached him. Opening his eyes, he moved to the tray, and without a word, he picked it up knowing full well that she was watching him. “You need to eat something,” he directed, as he unceremoniously dropped the tray on her lap.

  Sami glanced at the tray then back to his eyes, wondering just what was he up to now. Mark noted the defensive look her eyes, but his instructions were reinforced when he heard a deep growling noise coming from her stomach. A blush reddened her cheeks at the betrayal of her body. “OK. I’ll eat; you talk,” she responded.

  Mark agreed. He returned to his previous position at the end of her bed. Again facing Sami, he purposely eyed the tray in front of her. She caught his meaning and picked up the still warm mug of tea. Placing it to her lips, she drank. She raised her eyebrows indicating to him that she was doing her part, now it was his turn.

  Smiling, Mark began. “Introductions are first on the agenda. You have already guessed that this is the infamous Grandma Jo.” He gestured to the woman in the recliner. “She is here because I asked for her assistance. The reason will become clearer in a moment. My name is Mark Stevens, Dr. Mark Stevens.”

  Mark noticed that Sami was not eating, so he stopped talking. She gave him a questioning look. He pointed to the tray. She nodded, picked up the fork and stabbed a potato rather violently, sticking it into her mouth. Exaggerating her chewing, she dared him with her eyes.

  Satisfied, Mark continued. “You were correct in your assumption that I am from the clinic. I responded to your call this morning.”

  Sami dropped the fork and swallowed the remnants in her mouth. “I didn’t call the clinic!” she protested. He didn’t respond, but gave her a look that spoke volumes, a ‘what-do-you-think-we-are here-for’ look. She took in his expression. “OK, go on,” she said as she picked up the fork and stabbed a piece of meat with a force matching that of the potato.

  Mark continued, “You requested to speak to Dr. Peterson.”

  Down went the fork again. “This whole story is for the birds. Why would I request Dr. Peterson when he is no longer there?” Sami commented. “This whole story is bizarre.”

  “Wait,” Mark interrupted her ranting. Sami focused
on him. “Will you let me continue and finish before you end up spilling the entire content of the tray all over yourself and the bed?” he requested firmly.

  Sami adjusted herself on the bed, willing herself to be patient. She glanced back at Mark, giving him what she hoped was her most beguiling smile. “I promise to try,” she announced.

  This is developing into a very interesting case, he thought. “By the way, you are correct.” Mark tried again to start. “Dr. Peterson did retire some months ago. I came on board to handle his cases.”

  Sami smiled. “That is the first thing you have said that I know is true. I received something in the mail with reference to your name,” she stated all knowingly. She noticed Mark’s frown. “Oops. Sorry, I forgot. Go on.” Smiling, she was beginning to enjoy making him feel out of sorts.

  “Well, Mrs. Mills referred your call to me,” Mark related. This time he waited for her to say something. Sami didn’t respond, but she shrugged her shoulder slightly. She pretended to take an imaginary key out from under the covers, and placing her lips together, she indicated to him that they were locked.