The Crying Rose: The Trilogy of the Rose (Volume 1) Read online

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jon,” Mark acknowledged.

  “Go to her now. Convince her to trust you,” Jon pleaded. “She can hear you. I hope God helps you find the combination that will break the spell she is under. She wants help, Mark, or she wouldn’t have made that call today. There is hope.”

  “I’ll try my best, for try is all I can do.” Mark sounded more confident than he felt.

  “I’ll call tomorrow. By the way, how in the world do you know that she is deathly afraid of hospitals? Nice move to keep her at home,” Jon offhandedly commented.

  “I can’t take credit for that move,” Mark thoughts were racing. “There were no available rooms at any of the usual places. We must have had help from a divine intervention.”

  “Well, I am glad He is on our side then,” Jon laughingly replied.

  “At this point, I would appreciate all and any help I can get. It appears I need to toss out the text book and play it by my gut reaction."

  “Good luck, Mark, I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Thanks, I’ll need it.” Mark hung up the phone.

  ***

  TWELVE

  Mark studied at the package he still held in his hand. “Well, baby,” he spoke to the object, “you’re the reason I’m here; however, you’re going to have to wait in the background until I can wake sleeping beauty back there.” He placed the package next to the phone, and with determined steps, made his way to Sami’s bedroom, with no set plans in mind yet.

  Before Mark entered the bedroom, he stood in the doorway taking in the tranquil scene. Sami was still on her bed, out cold. Grandma Jo was sitting in the recliner, lightly humming a familiar tune as she worked with two, rather large, knitting needles on an almost-completed, colorful afghan. Comparing the needlework in her hands with the afghan that was covering Sami, Mark observed that the pattern was almost a total match, except for the colors. Oh great, he thought, another mystery to solve.

  Grandma Jo glanced up from her project and focused on the doorway, as if she had felt his presence. Placing her work aside, she smiled a greeting. “Hi,” she mouthed, getting up from the chair and walking in his direction.

  Before Grandma Jo met him at the door, Mark was deciding on how much to tell her. He backed up into the library, to be able to speak to her without Sami hearing. “Was that Dr. P.?” she asked, following him. Mark nodded. “Well, did he help?” The concern in her voice was real.

  “Yes,” he said honestly, suddenly realizing Grandma Jo was getting deeply involved. Concerned about this and wanting to erase the somber expression on her face, Mark decided to relieve the situation with a change in direction. “There is not much hope,” he continued. Grandma Jo was hanging on his every word and was on the hook. Now, he had to reel her in all the way. Keeping his face straight, he continued in a low serious voice. “He said she was a lost cause. Time to call in the wagon with the men in their little white coats to take her away to a sanitarium, lock her into a cell and throw away the key.”

  During this tall tale Grandma Jo’s chin was slowly lowering, pity covered her face. Not until he finished did she see the twinkle in his eyes, “You beast!” came her outcry, as she began hitting him in the chest with her fists.

  Mark’s composure collapsed under her assault, and he broke out in pure laughter. “You were so pained. I couldn’t resist. I had to break the tension I saw written all over your face,” he explained sheepishly.

  “You are a good-for-nothing scoundrel. That’s what you are!” Grandma Jo continued beating on him. “You are one sick puppy and if I didn’t love you so much I would march out of this house right this minute.” She ceased her beating and turned her back to him. A smile spread across her face as she heard his laughter die.

  “Oh, lighten up Grandma Jo,” he pleaded to her back. “You know that I appreciate you coming here.” She shrugged her shoulders in response. Stepping up behind her, Mark wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her gray hair. “Friends?” he asked. He had to wait a few seconds before he felt her head nod affirmative.

  “Yes.” Her voice still had a sharper than normal edge. “But, don’t do it again. I’m an old woman and delicate of nature.”

  Mark chuckled, “Yeah, and I am the ‘jackass’ for pulling that on you.” He felt her chuckle through his arms.

  “Truce?” she muttered.

  “Truce,” he agreed. He released her and spun her around to face him. Her face beamed with delight.

  “Now that you have had your fun, tell me what Dr. P. actually had to say.” Grandma Jo demanded, wanting a straight answer from him this time. She crossed her arms across her chest, and glared at him to signify to him that she wanted no more of his bull stories.

  A smile reached his face as he watched her. She’s a tough old bird, Mark mused to himself. He had agreed to bring her into this situation, and he was compelled to bring her into his confidence. She had promised to keep what was happening here confined within these walls. His trust in her was unshakable.

  “Okay, you win.” Mark began by choosing his words carefully. “She is under a hypnotic suggestion that Dr. Peterson gave her a number of years ago.” The expression on Grandma Jo’s face changed to a ‘that’s-what-I-thought’ type of look as she nodded several times. “What’s that look for?” he asked, curious to know what she was thinking.

  “Mark,” she began, “I have been actively involved with a wide number of patients for so long that I had a feeling that’s what was happening. You doctors are so involved with the treatment that you seldom witness what takes place outside your offices.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he asked her.

  “Would you have believed me if I had?” she answered, staring straight in his eyes. “It’s not my place to be so bold,” she went on quickly. “It was only an impression; I could have been wrong.”

  “Okay, I get the picture, but from now on, if you have any insight regarding this matter, please be up front about it,” Mark pleaded, “I value your judgment and opinions.”

  Grandma Jo nodded her head in response. “If that’s the way you feel, then I have something I want to show you before we continue,” she remarked, heading for the door.

  Confusion made Mark hesitate, but his curiosity made him move in her direction. She turned into the craft room and stood, about two feet in front of the painting, staring out at the rose. “What?” Mark inquired.

  “You don’t see it, do you?” She drew her eyes off the painting to his face.

  “See, what?” His voice was laced with confusion, as his eyes kept going from the painting to her face.

  Taking a step closer to the painting, Grandma Jo reached out and slowly traced a ‘teardrop’ from the leaf to the pool of water below. She heard Mark’s sharp intake of breath as he watched her movement.

  “She’s crying!” Mark said softly. “From the looks of the size of that pool, she has been for quite some time.”

  “Bingo!” Grandma Jo said flatly. “You didn’t mention this to me before, so I figured you didn’t see it.”

  Mark shook his head. “No, I was so fixed on the thorns that I guess I couldn’t see past them.”

  “Mark, what happened to her? Did Dr. P. tell you?” Grandma Jo turned in his direction. “It must have been certainly awful from the looks of it.”

  Mark again found himself mesmerized by the painting, wanting to reach out and brush away the tears. He had to close his eyes to block out the vision of this weeping rose in order to concentrate on Grandma Jo’s questions. With his eyes still closed, he responded, “Yes.”

  “Yes to what?” she pressured.

  “Yes, Dr. Peterson did give me a brief history of what happened, and yes, it was awful.” A single tear escaped between his closed eyes as his thoughts turned to his own loss, the loss of his beloved wife, who was taken from him way before her time.

  Grandma Jo witnessed this display of emotion, and though wanting more facts, she watched silently until
he was ready to continue. She didn’t wait long.

  With eyes still closed, Mark voiced for the first time what Dr. Peterson had revealed. “There was a terrible auto accident. She and her dog were the only survivors. She lost, in a matter of seconds, her husband, mother and unborn child.”

  “Oh, my word!” Grandma Jo was horrified. “The poor dear child.” She could now very well empathize with the woman curled up in the bed in the other room, for she, too, had suffered great losses, but not all in a matter of seconds. “So, this was the reason she was under treatment at the clinic,” she stated her thought as a statement not a question. Mark nodded. “So, what brought on this current problem?”

  Mark opened his eyes thankful to be able to redirect his thinking to something besides the accident. Smiling down at her, he was grateful that she was there to keep him on track. “I know what the ‘IT’, she was referring to, stands for now.” He beamed with the answer to one mystery solved.

  “Okay, I give. ‘Fess up, boy, what is the answer?” she demanded.

  Smiling again, Mark indicated for her to follow him. Walking out of the room, he was thankful that the painting of the rose was now out of sight. He proceeded to the living room, and Grandma Jo was directly at his heels. Picking up the package, as if it were a prize treasure that he had personally unearthed, he boldly displayed the item for her inspection. The puzzled expression on her face made him laugh.

  “You got me there. I don’t have a clue. Neither does Dr. Peterson, but it must be vitally important to her,” he responded to her unasked question. Grandma Jo reached out for the package, and Mark relinquished it to her.

  When she noticed the name on the package, Grandma Jo’s heart stopped. Mark saw her go white. Fear raced through him as he reached out to support her from falling. Guiding her to the chair and helping her sit, he knelt down beside her, concern radiating through his body. “What’s wrong?” he asked tenderly. Her eyes were still glued to the package. Adding to his concern, Mark now heard soft tapping on the front door. He glanced at the door and then back to Grandma Jo. She didn’t appear to have heard the knocking. He hesitated, but keeping an eye on her, he got to his feet and went to the door.

  Mark opened the door to find Jan standing there with a worried expression on her face. He stepped back to allow her to enter the house. As she passed, Jan handed him Sami’s file. He automatically took the offered file, but his concentration was fixed on Grandma Jo.

  Jan faced Mark. “How is she?” Jan asked.

  “Which one?” Mark replied, still not taking his eyes off of Grandma Jo.

  Jan’s face registered confusion. “What?” She spun around to see what was holding Mark’s attention. She saw Grandma Jo’s dazed expression, and she rushed to her side with Mark right behind her. “Grandma Jo?” she asked. There was no response.

  Jan gazed into Mark’s worried face. Looking back at her, his eyes mirrored her concern. They both turned their attention to Grandma Jo who was now looking up at Mark. Grandma Jo’s eyes were as large as saucers. The one word question she spoke sent the hair on Mark’s arms on end. “Sami?”

  “You know her?” he stated unbelievably.

  “If that poor child lying back there is Mrs. Carter, then yes, I know her,” Grandma Jo said obviously awestruck. “No, let me rephrase it; I knew her.”

  Mark knelt in front of her, waiting patiently for the rest of the story. Grandma Jo observed his movement, and realized that he wanted to all. Placing the package on her lap, she sat back and began. “Mark, you have to remember that I have been around the clinic for some nine years. I have met a lot of people in those years, and Sami was one of them.” Jan nodded in agreement.

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked.

  “You never mentioned her name. I figured you didn’t want to reveal it, so I didn’t ask,” she stated truthfully.

  “But, you’ve seen her,” Mark remarked bluntly.

  “Seen what, Mark?” she responded. “Be realistic; all I have seen is a curled-up body, covered with an afghan, with just of the top of her head sticking out. I haven’t seen her face clearly. Besides, it has been years since I last laid eyes on her. I only had contact with her at the clinic. It wasn’t the ‘let’s-have-coffee-every-morning’ type of relationship.” As she spoke, she appeared more anxious with each passing second.

  “Okay, I get the picture,” he said, trying to reassure her and wanting her to continue her story.

  “You know, I am kind of disappointed in myself,” she said in a calmer voice. “I should have put two and two together. I should have known that a patient from the clinic and I could have been acquainted.”

  “That reminds me, I was going to ask you. What was your relationship with her?” Mark questioned.

  “What do you mean?” Grandma Jo sat forward in the chair to show her interests, still focused on him and not yet aware that Jan was there.

  “I noticed the familiar pattern in your handiwork back in the bedroom. It matches the one that is currently covering Sami,” he answered.

  Grandma Jo’s eyes clouded over. “That’s how we met,” she stated, lost in her memories. “Jan mentioned to me that there was a patient that wanted to purchase some of my handiwork.”

  “That’s correct,” Jan concurred.

  Grandma Jo’s head jerked around in the direction of this new voice. “Jan?”

  “Yes,” Jan responded, patting Grandma Jo on her hand.

  “When did you get here?” Grandma Jo questioned.

  “Just now.”

  Grandma Jo turned to Mark, and he saw the question in her eyes. “Dr. Peterson sent her to his house to retrieve Mrs. Carter’s file,” he informed her. She mouthed an ‘Oh’, but no sound emerged.

  Jan glanced at Grandma Jo. “Do you want me to tell him?” she asked. Grandma Jo nodded her yes. “I was instrumental in introducing those two. I forgot about it until this moment,” Jan began. “You see, Dr. Peterson had insisted that an afghan be present during his sessions with Mrs. Carter. I guess I started it when Sami first arrived at the clinic. She appeared so withdrawn and chilled that I placed Grandma Jo’s afghan around her on the very first visit. I believe that it became her ‘security blanket’ from that moment on. Dr. Peterson remarked that Sami needed one within reach at all times, so when Sami asked about them, I put her in touch with Grandma Jo.”

  Grandma Jo picked it up from there. “When I met with Sami, she commissioned me to make a total of five afghans.” She turned to Jan. “You know that Sami was the pride of the clinic. The golden girl! I was in the group that witnessed her last day with Dr. P. She was so sure of herself, so full of life.” Jan nodded in agreement with her.

  ***

  THIRTEEN

  Two mysteries solved, Mark thought, adding this new information to the score card in his head, yet it still added up to a big goose egg, zero. He had no idea now on how to proceed from here. He watched Grandma Jo sit back in the chair, still wrapped in the memory she had of Sami. He took Jan’s hand and indicated for them to retreat into the kitchen, leaving Grandma Jo to her memories.

  “Dr. Stevens, how is Sami?” Jan asked.

  “Still out,” he commented, “but hopefully, with this new information,” he tapped the file as he spoke, “she won’t be for long.”

  Jan smiled, glad to have been of some help in this case. “May I see her?”

  Mark nodded, taking her back into the living room. “She’s in the last room on the right,” he indicated down the hall. Jan went in the direction of the bedroom. He watched her until she disappeared in the room at the end of the hall, then turned and redirected his focus to Grandma Jo.

  Mark spotted the now forgotten package in her lap, and moved to pick up the package. “You must be proud of the power you hold on us,” he said softly to the package. “You hold all the answers, and I need to gain access to these treasures. But, I will break the spell you hold over Sami, and I will win.” He had a fight on his hands and he was not about to give an in
ch more.

  “She was a lovely girl,” Grandma Jo spoke, absorbed in her thoughts. “So full of life, so sure of herself. Oddly, I do remember thinking how ‘normal’ she appeared, wondering why she was under treatment. She was so different from the rest of the patients.”

  “Oh, Mark,” her focus shifted to him, “from what you have told me, and seeing her so lifeless, it just kills me. I came here to support you, dear, but now that the patient is Sami, I am here for the both of you.” She stated it like a mother hen ready to protect her chicks. Standing up, she reached up and brought his face down to hers, her eyes flared with burning energy. “What is our first move, Doctor?”

  Not speaking, he placed the package next to the untouched mug of tea that Sami had made earlier and reached out to put his arm around Grandma Jo. “Our first move, as you so bluntly put it, is to devise a battle plan. For we do have a battle on our hands.” His voice filled with determination. “We are about to enter a fight for her mind. We may run into a lot of block walls, but cannot be deterred by them. Unfortunately, Dr. Peterson did not suggest a code word to aid us. Sami will not come out of the hypnosis until she is sure that help has arrived. Her mind is our enemy; it is in control and very powerful. We can witness its power here around us. It has kept her in the past for some time, helping her convince everyone on the outside that she was recovered. It aids her psychosis and keeps it alive. Her mind will keep her in a protective cocoon until it is certain that no harm will come to her.”