In Full Bloom: Sequel to 'The Crying Rose': The Trilogy of the Rose (Volume 2) (15 page)

Mark sensed that she had a solution to the problem. “What do you have in mind?”

She briefly described the details of her plan, and Mark approved it, knowing that in her capable hands anything was possible. A smile spread across Mark’s face as he reinforced his opinion of her capabilities.

At 8:00 AM, Jan promptly left his office as his first patient was shown into the therapy room. Grabbing the open file in front of him, he bolted to his feet and started toward the door. Stopping at the doorway, he turned back to gaze at the painting of the elk on the wall. The signature crest confirmed it was one of Sami’s paintings, and the image of her battered face appeared before him. “You’re never far from my thoughts,” he said as he exited the office.

***

The telephone rang just as Mark closed Mr. Sharp’s file. He absently reached for the phone as he tossed the file in the out basket. “Dr. Stevens,” he answered.

“I think I got the wrong number,” the very familiar voice announced. “I’m searching for Dr. ‘Dumb-dumb’,” Grandma Jo concluded.

“What’s that for?” Mark quirked back.

“I read the explicit instructions you left for me this morning,” she continued, “but, I wasn’t able to locate her pills.” She paused to take a breath.

“They are…” Mark started to explain, but was interrupted by her.

“Sami’s frustrated cries detoured my search and I finally found them. They were in her hands as she struggled to take the childproof cap off. Thank you very much!” she hissed. “The wild look in her eyes frightened me at first. I almost believed she would take the whole bottle if she got the chance. Next time, do me a favor and either forewarn me or don’t leave the pills within her reach.”

Mark was speechless. He blamed himself for his stupidity, but he had felt so sure that Sami would not intentionally do any bodily harm.

“Thank God for the childproof cap and her broken arm which kept her from opening the bottle. I have to tell you one thing, and I am ashamed for even thinking of it, I came close to confronting David for taking them,” she confessed with all hint of anger gone from her voice.

“Grandma Jo,” Mark said, finding his voice, “forgive me for my neglect. I should have realized that she might be capable of such an act especially after our conversation about Molly. I thought I had reached her,” he said thoughtfully. “I am grateful that you were there, but then again, she did tell me she was not used to people having to care for her. As for your fears about David, do you feel that insecure with him there?” he asked concerned.

“No, not really. I just wanted to let you know what I thought. I do trust him and appreciate his help. I just feel terrible that I jumped to that conclusion.”

“Don’t fret. I probably would have had that thought myself in your place,” he comforted her. “How is Sami now?” he asked tentatively.

“Asleep when I left her just before calling you. I have the pills in my pocket now, and I will follow your instructions by keeping ahead of the pain,” she assured him.

“Good. Since you have things in hand, I will stay here this afternoon and will be there around dinner.” He said goodbye, and mentally made a note to himself to call later to check on her as he disconnected the line. 

Picking up the next file on his desk, he headed to the door wondering how he would be able to concentrate on this patient when his thoughts were consumed with the activity inside Grandma Jo’s house.

***

Around 2:00 PM, Mark found himself back in his office with the phone in his hand. While the phone was ringing, he hoped for good news.

When Grandma Jo answered, she was breathless. “Hello.”

“What’s wrong?” Mark said alarmed.

“I had to run to answer the phone. I was getting Sami settled in the chair in the living room,” she explained, catching her breath.

“She’s better?” he asked, when he heard Grandma Jo refer to the chair.

“Yes, I must admit that keeping up with her pills seems to help. I moved her out here to make it easier to keep an eye on her,” she informed him.

“As long as she is comfortable, do whatever it takes to make it easier for you,” he agreed. “Just wanted you to know that I’m almost done here. I have a few calls to make first, then I will head in your direction,” he continued.

“Mark, will you please stop on your way and buy some milk?”

“Sure. See you soon.”

Mark smiled as he disconnected. How strange, he thought, suddenly realizing he liked the feeling of being attached to his new makeshift family.

***

One hour later, Mark had completed his two calls. The first was to Jon to update him on Sami’s condition, and schedule a meeting with him on Saturday at Grandma Jo’s place around 9:00 AM. The second call was to the Clark’s residence in Flagstaff. He had taken an instant liking to Stacy Clark the moment he heard her voice. Without breaking too many doctor/patient confidentialities, he had provided her with sketchy details of what had transpired over the past couple days. She had confided in him that she had been very taken by J.W. and Sami from the very first encounter, and had wanted several times over the past ten years to contact them. The rules of the arrangement, however, had forbidden contact. With the news of J.W.’s death and the impact of the package, she now regretted sending the package at all. Mark consoled her as best he could, but the impact of his news had disturbed Stacy greatly. Even without his asking, she volunteered to take an active role in Sami’s recovery if she or her husband, Bill, could help in any way. Mark thanked her, telling her that he was delighted at her offer to help. He would probably contact her once Sami was back on her feet.

Walking toward his truck, he now felt more in charge than ever.
Things were finally falling into place
, he thought, getting into his truck.

ELEVEN

S
itting at Grandma Jo’s kitchen table with a glass of milk and some homemade cookies in front of him, Mark was exhausted. Stretching to ease some of the discomfort in his body, he caught the microwave display panel out of the corner of his eye. In the three days since he had taken up residence in this house, he had not seen it before tonight. Turning slightly, he read the numbers displayed; three, zero, eight. That’s one clock we missed, Mark thought, resuming his position. “Three, zero, eight,” he said aloud quietly to himself.

It was already early Saturday morning. The two days since Sami’s accident had sped by in a blur. Of course, it hadn’t helped that he had not been able to sleep much, for his dreams were getting the better of him. He had heard somewhere that dreams are wishes your heart made. If this is true, he was going to have to fire the dream maker in his heart, for this one was creating perverse dreams. They were so real and detailed that he’d awakened feeling spent and unfulfilled.

Popping another cookie into his mouth, he chewed it slowly. Savoring the experience made him suddenly realize that he could now empathize with his patients regarding pent-up frustrations. Never, not even in his teenage years, had he experienced this type of reaction. Eyeing the cookie platter again, he had to acknowledge that sweets did settle the beast in him, but it did nothing to curb the burning. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around the half-filled glass of milk instead of another cookie. Bringing the glass to his mouth, he downed the contents in one large gulp. He returned the now empty glass to the table with more force than he intended. It sounded to him like a bomb going off.

Turning quickly in his seat, Mark scanned the living room, hoping that the sound had not awakened David, who was sprawled out on the couch. Hearing David’s quiet snoring, Mark thanked his lucky stars, for he was not in the mood to talk to anyone. Muttering to himself, he got out of the chair, and picking up the empty glass, walked to the sink to rinse it out as he debated his next move. Back to bed was still out of the question for he still burned too deeply. He mulled over the idea of taking a cold shower to cool the heat, but vetoed this plan knowing that it would disturb the quiet of the house.

Turning, he spotted the back door, and knew his answer. He hurried to the door, opening and closing it quietly. Inhaling deeply, he walked barefooted to the far end of the yard. The cool air hugged his body as he tried to clear his mind. Starting to relax, he knew that this decision was working, as he felt the edges of the desire retreating. He turned to face the rear of the house. Without moonlight to aid him, he had to use the glow of the light, filtering through the drapes of the kitchen and the nearby street lamps, to see. 

Wiggling his toes, he was shocked to believe he had stormed all the way across the yard without stepping into any piles left by the two dogs. He wondered if his luck would hold out as he gingerly made his way back to the patio. Safely there, he scuffed his feet several steps across the cold concrete to ensure that they were free of any debris. Visibly checking his feet, he was satisfied that they were at least semi-cleaned. As he stood near the chair, he became aware of a low humming noise from the far end of the patio. Investigating the sound, he spotted the hot tub.

“That’s exactly what I need,” he exclaimed, and headed in the direction of the spa.

Remembering his conversation with Grandma Jo about its presence made him smile. She had proudly told him that she had won first prize in a drawing a few years back. This tub and a three-year service contract were her prize. She had asked him, what was she suppose to do when they appeared at her door to install the tub. Should she have told them no? He chuckled as he recalled her dilemma. He folded the cover back on the tub. Watching the escaping steam fill the air around him, he reached in and tested the water temperature. Perfect, he sighed.

Eyeing the stack of beach towels near the tub, he dropped his sweat bottoms and climbed into the tub. Locating the control panel, he punched the proper button to start the soothing jets. The hot water combined with the pulsating jets worked out the remaining tension in his body as he stretched out on the tub’s recliner. Closing his eyes, he found his mind was now free of the dream world, and he turned his thoughts back recapping the week.

Had it only been five days since he had entered this strange new world?
No, that’s not right, it’s six days for it was now technically Saturda
y, he thought.

Monday – he, along with Grandma Jo had entered Sami’s life.

Tuesday – the opening and reading of  ‘IT’, the package that had been responsible for their meeting. Plus, moving day and David had entered their midst.

Wednesday – Sami’s accident that broke her arm and David moved into Grandma Jo’s house.

Thursday – the telephone call to Stacy Clark that resulted in completing the support group he needed to make her whole again.

Lastly, tonight, no make that Friday night – the conversation with Jon, ensuring that he would join them Saturday morning.

This was her support group
, he repeated in his mind.

This was a new concept for him. Not that he didn’t believe in support groups, for any therapist would be dead in the water without them, but this was the first time that he had had to assemble one. Usually, patients already had one established, but Sami had been isolated for so long that any possible candidate was long gone. Mark reviewed the group in his mind, one by one:

Himself, of course, the very interested but outside observer – the doctor, coach, or whatever was needed.