In Full Bloom: Sequel to 'The Crying Rose': The Trilogy of the Rose (Volume 2) (24 page)

“Is that Molly?” Sami called to him.

Looking up, Mark saw Sami on the covered stoop, dressed only in her purple sweats with socks covering her feet, supporting her casted left arm with her right arm.  “Yes.  She caught wind of something,” he answered.  “Go back in before you freeze.”

“Where is she?’ Sami asked, scanning the clearing and trying to locate her dog.

Mark reached the steps and replied as he passed her. “She went in the direction of the lake.”

“I don’t see her,” Sami stated.

“Relax, she’ll be back,” Mark said, entering the cabin.

Mark moved further into the cabin and deposited logs into the wood box near the fireplace.  “What is going on?” Grandma Jo asked, looking up from her knitting. 

“Molly’s on the hunt,” Mark laughed.

“Hunt?” Grandma Jo asked.

“She picked up a scent and is tracking it.  She will be back as soon as she is cold,” Mark answered, moving back to the kitchen. Crossing to the door, Mark sped his steps when he saw the empty stoop outside the door. “Sami?” he called.  Receiving no answer, Mark knew she was off after Molly.  “Damn, woman.  Where are you?” he asked.

Scanning in the direction to the lake, he saw her fighting the snow blanket in her stocking feet.  “Sami,” he called.  “Get back here.”  Seeing her refusal to acknowledge him, he stepped down on the first, icy tread.  The rubber soles of his tennis shoes provided no traction, causing him to pitch forward into the snow bank at the bottom of the steps.  Pushing himself out of the snow, Mark cried out in anger, “Great!” Quickly assessing his body for damages, he discovered nothing was harmed, except his ego.  Back on his feet, he looked at his shoes
—
worthless for these conditions.  Not having the time to correct the situation, he knew his course to retrieve the two wayward females would not be easy.  Dusting himself off, he cautiously accelerated after them. 

“Sami, stop,” he yelled, closing the distance between them. 

“I must find her,” Sami yelled back.

“I’ll do it,” Mark stated.

“I don’t hear her bark anymore,” Sami cried. “Molly?”

Mark turned his attention to the sounds around him.  He could hear his own labored panting and the sound of the wind, but no barking.  “Molly!” he yelled.

No bark, no whimper, no clinking of her tags, could be heard. Suddenly concerned, Mark neared Sami and reached for her. “Return to the house,” he ordered as he grabbed her.  “I will find her.”

Witnessing the fear plainly written on her bright-pink face and the faint tinge of blue circling her lips, he swore to himself.  “You will catch your death out here,” he said, releasing her and starting to remove his coat.

“No.  Must find Molly,” she said, pushing him away from her and running to the lake. 

Mark looked at the sprinting woman and then to open door to the cabin.  He needed help.  Using all his strength, he screamed, “Grandma Jo!”  Precious moments ticked as he waited for her to emerge from the cabin. Glancing back in the direction of the lake, he could see Sami struggling in the snow, yet increasing her distance away from him.

“Mark?” Grandma Jo called.

“Get blankets and follow us,” he ordered, not waiting for a response.

Closing the distance between them due to his longer legs, Mark quickly caught up to Sami again.  “You will stop,” he instructed her, wrapping her in his embrace.

“Let me go,” she ordered. 

“No.  I cannot find Molly if I have to concentrate on you,” he answered.

His words quieted her.  “Molly?” she questioned.

“Yes, Molly,” he responded, knowing that using the dog as a focus point would assure her cooperation. “The best way to ensure her safety is to let me handle it.”

Looking back over his shoulder, he spotted Grandma Jo making her way slowly to them with an arm load of blankets.  Rotating his body, Mark directed as he released Sami, “Go to Grandma Jo.  Let me find Molly.”

Sami turned her snowflake-dotted face to Mark. Her eyes were as round as saucers.  “Please find her. Please promise me,” she pleaded.

Mark’s insides melted at her softly spoken request. “I promise,” he whispered.  He hoped he would be able to keep the promise.  “Now, go.”

Seeing her move to Grandma Jo, Mark turned and hurried away.  “Molly,” he called, following the paw tracks in the snow and noticing they were quickly filling with the falling precipitation.  His path took him to the edge of the snow-covered lake.  Here, Molly’s tracks darted right into the grove of trees.  Following the tracks until they disappeared in the umbrella of trees, he called, “Molly.  Come, girl.”

Stopping to listen, he kicked the snow off his useless shoes. Hearing nothing, he pushed on.  “Where are you girl?” he called. Scanning the pine needles’ bed under the trees, he spotted her path. “What are you chasing?” he asked.  Mark followed the tracks; seeing the snow depth increase, he knew he was exiting the grove. Lifting his eyes to scan ahead, he saw the tracks headed left.  “The lake,” he moaned as he heard the faint sound of splashing.

Crap
, he thought. 
Molly has found the lake
.  Then, he spotted her. Her hindquarters were submerged in the icy water while her forelegs were perched on the edge of ice.  He knew she was in dire need. Quickly taking stock of the scene, he saw she had traveled roughly twenty feet onto the icy surface of the lake before breaking through. Her hindquarters were desperately searching for traction on the ice layer’s edge.  Her wide eyes were searching the grove of trees further down from his location. Instinctively, Mark knew his presence would only tempt her.  Quickly formulating a plan, he knew he was going to be submerged into the icy water.  Needing to remove the heavy coat and gloves, he did so as quietly as possible to keep her from hearing him and placed them on the ground.   He walked to the edge of the lake.  Molly caught his scent and whimpered as she tried to get to him.  Keeping himself steady, outwardly showing no anxiety, he spoke calmly to her.  “Told you not to go off. Look what a mess you are in.”

His calming voice settled her frantic actions. Smiling, Mark settled onto his hands and knees in the deep snow at what he hoped was the edge of the lake. Keeping his eyes on Molly, he continued to talk to her softly as he crawled out onto the snowy-covered, iced surface of the lake, not knowing when his body weight would cause the ice to give beneath him.  “If you wanted a bath, I could have done it in the warm tub,” he said. “A nice hot bath sounds good after this little swim.” Ten feet from her, he heard the initial crack of the breaking ice. “How cold is it?” he asked just before he experienced the icy water himself.

Surfacing the icy water, Mark felt Molly’s claws cut into his sweatshirt-covered back.  His plunge into the lake had broken the ice chunk between them.  Turning to grab the frightened dog before she could do more bodily harm to him, he secured her under his left arm and reached for the ice edge with his right.  The shallow water allowed him to plant his tennis shoes in the muddy bed of the lake and anchor himself.  Now able to stand, the upper part of his body was above the water level. Releasing the edge of the ice, he positioned his hands under Molly’s belly and lifted her up on the surface of the ice. 

Freed from the water, Molly shook herself, covering Mark with icy water.  “Thanks a lot.  Go to the coat,” he directed, pointing to the grove of trees.  Molly looked to where he had pointed and barked. “Go,” he said firmly.  Molly cocked her head and stared at him, not moving.  Mark laughed even though he was not amused.  “Fine,” he said.  “Stay if you want.”

Mark tested his footing to ensure that his feet were not stuck in the mud and gently pushed Molly back from the edge of the ice. Eyeing the thin edge, he wondered if it would support his body.  He had made it this far on his hands and knees, but that was before the ice broke. Unsure, he decided to not tempt fate by placing his entire body weight on the surface, so he lowered his upper body to rest flat on the snowy-covered ice.  The ice groaned at the weight, but held. “It’s going to break again,’ he said to Molly.  Her extra weight and his were going to be too much for the thin ice.  “Molly, back up or we are going back into the water.”

Molly’s response was to lick his face. “No, Molly,” he moaned. “Move.” The ice gave off another groan. “Think, Mark,” he said. Sami’s face appeared before him in his mind.  “That’s it.  Molly, get Sami,” he cried.

The mention of her mistress did the trick.  Molly spun and was off the ice.  Sighing deeply, Mark felt better.  Confident now that Molly’s weight was off the ice, he lifted his right leg just as the ice below him gave. Finding himself submerged again, he surfaced quickly. “Easy, Mark,” he moaned.  Using his numb hands, he brushed off the snow on the surface of the ice before him. Gauging the thickness of the ice, he felt better about the probable outcome of his next attempt.  He was only six or seven feet from the water’s edge.  The water was now only thigh high.  Flattening himself on the ice, he pulled with his arms instead of pressing his weight on his hips to lift his leg.  This worked; his legs were safely out of the water. Pushing up with his arms, he brought himself up on his hands and knees. The ice emitted no sound.  He was out of the icy water.

On his feet at the lake’s edge, Mark shook hard to rid his body of as much water he could.  He knew that his body was succumbing to the thermal complications from the icy plunge, and he needed to act fast.  Moving over to his discarded coat, he removed his wet sweatshirt.  The exposure of his wet, bare chest to the swirling snow-laden wind was potentially deadly. Dropping the sweatshirt, he reached for the coat and gloves and covered his wet body with the still body-warmed coat; the warmth felt like a touch of heaven. Submerging his numb hands into the fur-lined gloves, he sighed deeply.  Reaching up for the hood, he covered his wet head and savored the warming effects for a few moments.  “Thank you, Grandma Jo, for forcing me to put this on earlier,” he said softly.

Glancing back at the hole in the icy lake, he knew this experience was one he would never forget. Stretching his shoulders, he recognized that his lower extremities were still in trouble.  His soaked jeans were beginning to ice.  Glancing at his legs, he wondered if it would be better to remove the jeans, but discarded the thought, knowing he was still some distance from the cabin.
The cabin?  What direction was it?
  he thought.

Self-doubt emerged.
What direction do I go?
Turning in a full circle, he could not see the cabin. Closing his eyes, he fought to remember his path to this location.  He had followed Molly’s tracks. Smiling, he opened his eyes.  “Follow them back, stupid,” he said, searching the ground and noticing the red-colored smudges in the snow.  “She is injured,” he surmised.  

Picking up his wet sweatshirt, he trekked back to the cabin, wondering what damage was done to both the dog and her owner.

***

About the Author

B. A. Beers is a former educator who embraces friendships. This philosophy holds true not only in the interaction with others in her personal life, but also with her fictional characters and the readers of her work. Her love affair with the written word blossomed when she read a beloved love story at an impressionable young age.

She resides in Phoenix, AZ with her family.