The Rosaries (Crossroads Series) (2 page)

Translation of Choctaw tribal shaman proclamation; Bayou-Lacombe, LA; Circa 1878

Prologue

Raleigh, NC. Late 1970’s.

When the nurse knocked on his door, Dr. Huey Anderson was scanning entries on the bank statements from the last few months. He shoved them quickly into one of the desk drawers and ran a manicured hand over his thinning, gray hair, while his tall, slim body shifted anxiously as the nurse walked in and spoke.

“The patient arrived shortly ago, Doctor. I helped her get settled into her room and I already administered the sedative.”

“Wonderful, Ms. Roberts, thank you.” Dr. Anderson smiled and locked eyes with the nurse, who lightly blushed and smiled back. Huey Anderson was a natural born charmer; thanks to his charisma and the extra money he paid his staff under the table, he was able to sustain a very profitable side business. Fifty-five years old now, he figured he would be able to retire before the respectable age of sixty.

Dr. Anderson leaned back against the soft black leather chair and stared at the Monet print on the wall directly across from his desk.
La Promenade
depicts a lovely scene in which a young woman takes a walk in the company of a small child; the woman looks happy and very dainty, in her flowing white gown and dark umbrella. Childless women aren’t as happy as women who get to experience the gift of motherhood – of that he was absolutely certain. He was doing a good deed, and each time he turned a frustrated woman into a happy mother he contributed a great gift to the world. The fact that he was amply rewarded for his services was an added benefit to his side trade, but wasn’t his only reason for continuing on his quest.

He was fortunate to have a staff that believed in his vision, ready to support and cheer his efforts, and he paid them dearly for their loyalty; each and every one of them. He ran his operation smoothly and was able to carefully build an anonymous clientele. People who knew
what he did sent their close friends who had lost all hope of becoming parents -- Huey Anderson was their hero.

“Please, Ms. Roberts, let the patient know I will be there in just a minute. I only need to put away a few things and go change.” He crossed his hands over his lap and smiled benignly.

“No problem, Doctor. She will probably be asleep by the time you will get there.”

“That’s great, thank you.”

The nurse, a pretty young thing with mid-length dark hair and sparkling hazel eyes, nodded and opened the door to go back and check on the patient.

“By the way, Nurse,” He asked Ms. Roberts before she left, “is the baby ready?”

“Yes, Doctor, everything is ready for the procedure.” The nurse’s voice was cold and methodical as usual, but Dr. Anderson detected a light in her eyes that he didn’t like much. She seemed troubled, as if something tugged at her soul.

He didn’t have time to explore her mind right now, so he dismissed the nurse with a nod and went to replace his white coat with surgical attire. One of the orderlies, a young man in his late twenties, with big dreams and little education to back them up, was mopping the sanitized white floor, and nodded in Huey’s direction as the doctor walked by.

“Good evening, Ralph; I hope your day is going well.” Dr. Anderson said.

Ralph nodded once and smiled. “My day is super, Doctor. I hope yours is too.”

“Oh, it is, Ralph; another lady is going to celebrate her baby going home. That fact alone makes my day a wonderful one.”

“That’s great, Doctor. I hope my wife and I will experience the same joy soon.  We have been trying to have a baby, but we’ve had no luck so far. It always amazes me to think that a woman can only conceive twenty-four hours out of each month and the world is filled with unwanted children. We would love to have a little boy or girl of our own.”

Dr. Anderson lowered his head in contrite expression; “It is sad, isn’t it? And that’s why we are here – to bring a smile to those who aren’t successful with the traditional methods of conception. Keep me posted, Ralph, and if all else fails, I would like to examine your wife. Free of charge, of course.”

Ralph was stunned by the offer. “I will keep that in mind, Doctor, thank you.”

He walked past Ralph and strolled slowly past the cluster of patients’ rooms, before he reached the operating room.

The patient was sleeping peacefully, the sedative having gloriously done its job. The baby was going to be premature, but that was not a big concern, thanks to modern technology.

He went to the sink and washed his hands, making sure to scrub under his nails and up to his elbows. The surgical table was already set up and placed near the patient’s bed, and the shiny surgical instruments glistened under the bright light of the room. Nurse Roberts had already prepped the patient, so he picked up the scalpel from the instrument tray with confidence, ready to make the first incision.

It was a hell of a night, with heavy rain pouring down and banging against the glass of the window, but Dr. Anderson found the rhythmic sound of the rain quite relaxing. His long hands were firm and ready – each cut, each baby, marked one step forward toward the completion of his plan. Less than ten minutes later he delivered a healthy baby girl. She was small but appeared strong and determined to live. He handed her to nurse Roberts, who immediately whisked her away to get her cleaned up.

Everything was proceeding smoothly, and he felt a deep sense of excitement rush through his electrified body. He only hoped nurse Roberts would not begin to experience any unnecessary pokes from her conscience. If she did, he would have to deal with her before she caused any trouble.

Chapter One

Wilmington, NC. Late spring 2009.

There were two things Natalie Sanders hated above all – shoes and hateful people, especially if the latter happened to be members of her own family. Last night she had endured both -- especially Aunt Catherine, that old spinster, God bless her cold heart -- and could still feel a twinge of tension in her neck muscles. She couldn’t help feeling that way any time she was summoned to a family function, and sometimes hoped that, as she sat alone on the shore as she did tonight, a wave could swallow her in its voracious black bite and make everything go away. Natalie was not the philosophical type, but often wondered what the meaning of life is, if pain and frustration are all one is allowed to experience on this earthly journey. There were times in her life when she had felt exhilarated, but after the initial high she always felt emptier than before. Something was missing – something had always been missing, since before Natalie could remember.

She wasn’t going to think of that tonight, though. As she looked far into the horizon, she focused on the line that separated the ocean from the moonless sky and became lost in the vastness of the display spreading out in front of her. She loved the feeling of the cool sand under her feet, and wondered how she could transfer this very same sensation to one of her yet-to-be-discovered paintings. The wind picked up about a half hour before and was now blowing sand into her face and hair, which she had cut shorter just the other day. She still surprised herself every time she walked in front of a mirror, and couldn’t help smiling at the sassier woman
staring back at her. The deep rusty highlights perfectly complemented her hazel-green eyes and softened her face only slightly, still allowing her spunky personality to shine through. She stood up, brushed the sand off her turquoise sundress, and picked up her leather sandals. She could hear sounds from the boardwalk in the distance, and smiled when she distinctly heard a little boy fighting with his brother. How lucky he was! Natalie wished for a sibling as long as she could remember, someone she could share secrets and dreams with, but her parents could not have any children and had only adopted one.
They were disappointed enough with me…

She pushed that thought away – she couldn’t change history, but she would be damned if she was going to allow her family’s twisted views of a perfect child to spoil her present and future. She instinctively ran a hand through her hair and quickened her step. She had plenty of reasons to be excited about her future, and hoped that her life would change after the upcoming art show in Wilmington. Wilmington NC, population 95,476, was certainly not as glimmering and pretentious as New York City, but it was a start. Mrs. Wilson, the owner of the gallery in town was impressed with her work, and Natalie had a chance to show the world her hidden potential.

The show was still a month away, but preparations were already underway and her level of excitement was growing by the minute. She had to send out invitations, shop for a new outfit, and go by Mr. Allen’s shop to get some fliers printed out. Good old Mr. Allen opened the shop after retiring as a school teacher, and he put as much pride into his present job as he did, for many years, instilling knowledge into the minds of his sleepy pupils. Natalie loved Mr. Allen, and looked forward to telling him all about her recent success. She was fairly sure that both he and his wife Belinda, the owner of the antique store on Princess Street, were going to be thrilled for her, and would be first in line to attend the event.

As her mind processed all these thoughts, Natalie walked in a daze until she was in front of Briggs’, the old donut shop proudly dating back to 1939. No matter what thoughts were running through her mind, the heavenly aroma of fried dough and fresh coffee always brought her back to reality. She decided to stop in and treat herself to a donut and a cup of Java – in fact, why not two donuts? She grinned at the thought that Aunt Catherine would certainly disapprove. She could hear her now…
A lady must always watch what she eats, Dear. And how could you enjoy anything that is so bad for your health?

When she walked into the store, the place was still full of tourists and she had to wait in line for a few moments, in spite of the fact that it was already nine o’clock at night. Natalie loved the Mom and Pop feel of the place, and used the waiting time to scan the walls for old pictures of happy moments gone by. She didn’t see anything from local artists, so she made a mental note to ask Mrs. Payne if she would be amenable to displaying at least one of her prints.

When it was her turn to order, Natalie looked up at the young cashier in front of her – she had long blond hair tied in a pony tail and a deep tan, and wore low-cut shorts and a T-shirt bearing the logo of the store. She looked vaguely familiar but no name came to mind, so Natalie ordered two donuts and a large cup of coffee, paid what she owed and left the store to find herself once again on the crowded boardwalk. She walked in front of the arcade packed with acne-ridden teenagers too busy cutting up or making out to notice anyone looking in their direction.

Her place wasn’t too far from the boardwalk, only a couple of blocks. She walked slowly down Carolina Beach Avenue and turned left on Atlanta heading toward Hamlet. She loved the night air -- pregnant with the salty embrace of an ancient mother reaching out to caress her skin. Without the moon illuminating the streets, the houses looked almost indistinguishable from one another, and conferred a more austere feel to the area; during the day, their bright colors stood out against the Carolina blue of the maritime sky. Lost in the details of the surrounding scene, she reached Hamlet Street and quickened her step toward her house, a green two-story rental with a white front porch she quite accidentally found two years ago. She remembered that day clearly. She had driven down from Wilmington one Sunday morning, hoping to find a quiet place to sit, think and paint, and as she cruised the streets toward the waterfront, she had seen the for-rent sign in front of the house. It was a decision dictated by impulse, and she knew, even as she parked her yellow VW, that she was going to catch hell for it from her family. After all, her parents already arranged for her to have a place of her own near their house, yet not too close for fear she would embarrass them with her bohemian lifestyle. And hell she got, but Natalie didn’t really care. Grandma Elsie left her a small inheritance when she passed, and although it wasn’t a sum that allowed her to be rich and travel, it was certainly enough to live on without worrying about her next meal.

She walked up the three steps to the front door and suddenly heard a meow. Leave it to Billy, her cat, she thought, to play host and welcome her at the door. She walked in, fed Billy, and dropped the bag of donuts on the kitchen counter, just a moment before the phone rang.

Who could be calling at nine-thirty at night? “Hello?”

“Natalie? This is Ryan Wheeler. We met last night at your parents’ house. I hope you don’t mind me calling so late.”

Natalie rolled her eyes, but she successfully stifled the annoyed sensation she felt and blocked it from creeping into her voice. Her family had struck again – the son of one of the few tobacco dynasties left in the south, and the sole heir to their fortune, Ryan was in their eyes a perfect candidate for marriage. Too bad Natalie didn’t believe in arranged matrimony.

“I remember you perfectly well, Ryan. How are you?”

“I’m doing great. I was wondering if you would like to get together sometimes. Your Aunt Catherine took the liberty of giving me your phone number, and said that the two of us have quite a bit in common. She’s so sweet, isn’t she?”