From the very first sentence, I connected to Blossom Turner’s book, Anna’s Secret. When the single tear snaked its way down Anna’s cheek, a tear ran down mine as well. I knew how she felt. I’ve been there. But whether readers personally identify, or they just fall into the story, they are sure to find Anna’s Secret riveting, heart-wrenching, and too compelling to set aside.
—Kay Marshall Strom, author of the Blessings in India and Grace in Africa series as well as Forgotten Girls.
Blossom Turner takes us on a journey of true-to-life choices, the consequences of sin, and the redemption God offers. Anna’s Secret is packed with raw emotion as we travel the twists and turns that ripple from one poor choice. Best of all, we see God’s grace and feel compelled to respond to people in our lives with that same grace.
—Shelley Pierce, author of the Crumberry Chronicles and Sweet Moments: Insight and Encouragement for the Pastor’s Wife.
Blossom Turner’s book, Anna’s Secret, is all about unconditional love, reconciliation and forgiveness. The characters are forced to deal with hurts from their past and failures marring the present, before realizing God’s truth about themselves and their future. The author addresses tough questions prevalent in today’s society without skirting the real issues. The book is a winner.
—Claudette Renalds, author of By the Sea
Copyright Notice
Anna’s Secret
First edition. Copyright © 2019 by Blossom Turner. The information contained in this book is the intellectual property of Blossom Turner and is governed by United States and International copyright laws. All rights reserved. No part of this publication, either text or image, may be used for any purpose other than personal use. Therefore, reproduction, modification, storage in a retrieval system, or retransmission, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, for reasons other than personal use, except for brief quotations for reviews or articles and promotions, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission by the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover and Interior Design: Derinda Babcock
Editor(s): Cristel Phelps
Author Represented by WordServe Media Services
PUBLISHED BY: Elk Lake Publishing, Inc., 35 Dogwood Dr., Plymouth, MA 02360, 2019
_______________________________________________
Library Cataloging Data
Names: Turner, Blossom (Blossom Turner
Anna’s Secret / Blossom Turner
310 p. 23cm × 15cm (9in × 6 in.)
Description: Anna’s husband has been ill a long time. When he dies, she is devastated, yet relieved. Matt, the doctor who cared for Steven, comes to call because he also cares for Anna, and a consoling hug turns into something more.
Identifiers: ISBN-13: 978-1-950051-33-5 (trade) | 978-1-950051-34-2 (POD)
| 978-1-950051-35-9 (e-book.)
Key Words: Romance, forgiveness, grief, human failure, love, inspirational, grace
LCCN: 2019936898 Fiction
For my dear husband, David, who has lovingly supported and encouraged my writing. God has blessed our love story through crushing storms and brought inspiration for this book out of the crucible of suffering and the power of forgiveness. Love and forgiveness—no friendship or relationship is possible unless these two principles walk hand in hand. I walk into forever with you—my best friend.
I’m thankful God brought my good friend and critique partner, Jennifer Sienes, into my life. Her willingness to help, to tighten, to give honest feedback of my writing has been invaluable. Thank you, Jennifer.
And to my beta readers whose input I could not have done without— Jan Hooper, Karen Moderow, Tisha Martin, Holly Varni, Kathryn Hughes, my sister Melody Thomson, mother-in-law Stephanie Turner, and mentor Ginny Yttrup. Thank you from my heart.
And last, but not least, to my forever friend, Suzie Zanewich, who prayed, pestered, and pushed me into a writing career. You know how much I love and appreciate you dear friend. Thank you.
Anna gazed down at her sleeping husband—the man she had once called lover, friend, soul mate. Somewhere along the way they had become no more than nurse and patient. Steven’s sickness and remission had beaten a well-worn path to her door. Despite prayers for healing, this final diagnosis crushed all hope.
A single tear snaked its way down Anna’s cheek. She brushed it off with a violent sweep of her hand, so tired of the pain.
Wake up, Steven. A deep desire to set things right before time ran out sent a shudder up her spine.
“Steven.” She nudged him gently.
His eyes flickered open. He stared up at her with a drug-induced blankness.
“I need to talk to you.”
He turned his head away and closed his eyes.
Anna understood. His response was nothing new.
She straightened his blanket and gently touched his upper forehead where dark thick hair used to spring beneath her fingertips. The smoothness brought back his words after he realized his hair would only grow back in scraggily patches.
“I got the nurse to shave it off.”
“It looks good, Steven.”
“Yeah, as good as a bowling ball after it hits the gutter. Worthless.”
“Come on, Steven, we need to remain—”
“Don’t give me your ‘let’s stay positive’ speech. You’re not the one lying in this bed completely useless. I wish you’d go, Anna.”
“Steven—”
“No seriously. Find someone worthy. I’m nothing but a shell of the man you married, and this blasted disease doesn’t let me live or die. I just hang here in limbo.”
“Code yellow to unit ten. Code yellow.”
Anna was grateful the intercom interrupted her thought patterns and brought her back to the present. She released one white-knuckled hand from her clutch on his blanket and smoothed out the twisted knot. She shook her head as if to dislodge that painful conversation from her mind.
Some memories are better left buried.
Dr. Matthew Carmichael had been notified by hospital staff that his morning run should include a look into Steven’s room. They felt he was failing fast. One look at Steven confirmed their assessment.
He motioned the nurse over.
“This family needs our full attention until—”
She nodded. “I just started my shift and I’ll stay nearby.
“Steven,” he bent closer. “We’re going to keep you as comfortable as possible.”
Steven’s eyes flickered open as Matt squeezed his hand and smoothed his brow.
Matt straightened and motioned Anna over to the far corner of the room. Every year he practiced medicine he assumed it would get easier, but at thirty-five he was granted no more wisdom, or strength, than the year previously.
He spoke the words that were always difficult to say to family members but especially hard to say to Anna, who had become a dear friend. “It won’t be long now.”
Anna collapsed against him. He steadied her and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. When she looked up at him, her dark eyes brimmed with tears and a lump formed in his throat. He had to get away. The pit of his stomach tightened. He hurt because she hurt.
“You should phone your family.”
“Yes. I will.”
He held her a moment longer before signaling the nurse with a tilt of his head. She gently guided Anna to the nearest chair.
Anna had no idea what that simple condolence cost
him as he battled a squall of emotion he knew he had no right to feel. He was free, but she certainly wasn’t and wouldn’t be for a long time to come. He was no fool. Grief needed time.
“Would you like me to phone your sister?”
Her large, soulful eyes shot upward. Anna’s voice broke. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Please ask her to call the boys and the rest of the family.”
“No problem, Anna. I’ll handle it.”
Matt’s offer did not fall into his regular doctor/patient responsibilities, but Steven’s illness had been a long, rocky road, and Matt had become a fixture in their family. Through it all, Anna had rarely complained. She had a beauty inside and out that intrigued him. The way she loved her husband unconditionally, despite his difficult tirades, showed a quiet strength that drew him.
He turned to leave.
“Matthew …”
His heart kicked against the walls of his chest. Was she aware she’d used his first name? Hearing his name touched something deep within him. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned back toward her.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. You’re a good friend.”
Unable to speak, he nodded.
She smiled, and he read only innocence in her expression. Clearly, she had no idea the emotions she evoked in him.
Is it only friendship you desire?
A dart of guilt pierced him. He left the room before giving her the chance to read any emotion on his face.
From the sanctuary of her bedroom, with her sister in charge of the growing crowd, Anna whispered a prayer for strength. “Oh, Lord, help me get through this.” Even at her best, entering a room full of people was difficult. With one more glance in the mirror to make sure her riotous curls were snuggly fastened in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, she smoothed her hands over her skirt. The dull gray suited her mood. She opened the door, took a deep breath, and walked down the hall.
Her living room and kitchen teemed with all the people she knew and loved. One would think the funeral was hers, not Steven’s. In the last few years, his reclusive ways and severe illness had thinned out his friends—all but a persistent few. She gazed over the group as they made eye contact. Support and pity jockeyed for position.
Small groups of people huddled in circles with plates of delicate finger sandwiches, fruit, and sweets piled high. Her stomach lurched at the thought of food, and she fought the urge to run for the bathroom.
Betty and George, Steven’s parents, signaled her over to their corner of the room. Anna scanned the area to check if her sons, Mark and Jason, were okay before she joined them.
Only Betty could pull off a black pantsuit with such flare. She had obviously had a say in what George was wearing, because not a stitch was out of place, right down to the folded triangle handkerchief in his breast pocket. His new designer suit carefully hid his portly frame.
“Oh, Anna.” Betty engulfed her in a warm hug. Her arms gave a tight squeeze before she pulled back and cradled Anna’s face in her hands. Her bracelets jangled close to Anna’s ear. “I’m sure you know this, but sometimes words need to be spoken. You’re our daughter, with or without our son in the picture, and we love you.”
Anna drew a weak smile. “I don’t know how I would’ve done it without your love and support all these years.”
“And nothing will change,” George pitched in. “Until you find a job and get financially stable, we’re going to continue to help out with the expenses.”
Anna’s gaze lowered and she shook her head. “I appreciate your offer, but I need to work this out somehow.” She could tell from the pity in their eyes they had the same question she did. Where would a thirty-nine-year old widow who’d never been more than a housewife and mother find work that paid enough to survive?
“We’re here for you,” Betty insisted. “Do you remember the promise we made before you and Steven were engaged?”
Anna nodded. “—to fill the gap for the parents I lost.”
“Yes. And George and I are not relinquishing that claim now.”
Anna’s eyes glistened with tears as she hugged them close. “I love you both so much.”
“How are Mark and Jason? We were so glad they made it home from University in time to say goodbye to their father.”
Anna gulped back a sob with a hand to her mouth.
“Oh, my dear, your grief must be unbearable,” Betty said, as she pulled her into another hug.
A sliver of guilt jabbed in. Anna cried for her boys and the loss of their dad, but her relationship with Steven had been an emotional roller coaster for years. Why was relief at being off that ride a stronger pull than grief?
Pastor Harry and his wife, Eleanor, dressed appropriately in traditional black, stood on the periphery—waiting. Anna motioned them over as George and Betty moved aside.
“My dear, such a long, hard road.” Eleanor said, shaking her head. Her voice caught in her throat.
“Anna, we’ve walked alongside you for years. And we’re not about to stop now,” Pastor Harry said. “You have to let us know how we can help—finances, yard clean up, your vehicle, whatever.” His kind eyes sparkled with a sheen of unshed tears as he patted her arm.
Eleanor moved in for a long hug. She drew Anna into the folds of her chubby arms and squeezed so tight her glasses twisted to one side.
Over her shoulder, Anna noticed her eldest son Mark jerk his head to one side to get her attention. They had argued earlier about his choice of a bright lime golf shirt, so he had changed into a burnt orange one, not caring to bend to the social etiquette of traditional black. Anna had decided to say no more.
She pulled free of Eleanor’s hug and waved him closer.
Anna noticed how he stiffened when both the pastor and his wife hugged him. At least, Mark nodded politely at their words of condolence. His hiked shoulders didn’t relax until they moved on.
He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “Hey, Mom, is it okay if Jason and I leave now? This whole wake thing or celebration of life or whatever it’s called, has me wigged out. I can’t take another stranger hugging me.”
Anna nodded. “I know it’s uncomfortable, Mark, but it’s a way for people to show they care.”
He brushed off her comment with a shrug of his shoulders and rolled his eyes.
Everything about Mark—his tall frame, striking looks, and antics—reminded her of a young Steven, strong and capable, when life had seemed unshakable. A stab of pain spiked through her.
“You two go,” she said. “My friends and Aunt Lana will help clean up, and they’ll stay as long as I need company. Between the two of us,” she said, squeezing him in a hug, “that was about two hours ago.”
He exhaled with a deep sigh and whispered. “Glad I’m not the only one to feel this way. Most people don’t understand,” his voice cracked. “Dad’s been gone a long time.” He lifted his arm to quickly swipe away the tears with his shirtsleeve.
Anna couldn’t believe her ears. Her son Jason was the one who readily expressed his feelings, but Mark so rarely did. His unusual moment of honesty brought tears to her eyes and she hugged him tight. “I’m so sorry Mark. You missed out on having a healthy dad, but I know how much he loved you.”
His mask slipped back in place as he stepped back. “I’ll live. Always have. Always will.” He waved to Jason above the din and made a beeline for the door.
A steady stream of well wishes and awkward conversations continued until little by little, the crowd thinned and only a few helping hands remained. To her surprise, Dr. Carmichael was one of them.
“Where do you want all these folding chairs and extra tables?”
“You don’t have to do this, Dr. Carmichael. My sons will look after that. They said they’d return them to the church tomorrow.”
“I’m not your doctor, Anna. I’m your
friend. Call me Matt. Okay?”
He didn’t wait for a reply but grabbed a table, heaved it on its side and folded in the legs with a snap.
“I’ll break down the tables and stack the chairs so you have room to move before I go. How about I take them to the porch?”
She forced a weak smile. “Thanks so much, Dr … I mean, Matt.”
His eyes lit up, and a grin split free. “That’s better.”
Matt was almost done with his morning rounds. He shut down the file on the computer. A sunset screensaver popped up with unmistakable cheer as he rolled the wheeled stand out of his patient’s room. Pushed up against the wall, he kicked the brake lever on with his foot and slipped his stethoscope around his neck.
One look at his watch and he knew exactly where to head for his lunch hour. He waved at the pod of nurses and laughed at the way they sang out as if on cue, “Come again soon, Dr. Carmichael.”
He turned and smiled, flashing his dimple in cheery response. “Oh, you can count on that.”
Giggles and laughter followed. One said, “My, it’s hot in here, and girl, I’m not talking about my hot flashes, either.”
He caught himself humming a tune as he entered the elevator. Why am I so happy these days? Unwilling to unpack that question, he punched the button with a tad too much exuberance as the fourth and fifth button lit up simultaneously.
He smiled as the door opened one floor too soon. He stayed put and waited for the elevator to shut and open yet again. The cheery walls of painted flowers and gregarious animals welcomed him as he stepped out into the children’s ward. With a beeline straight for room 4004, he succeeded in bypassing all interruptions.
“How’s my favorite girl?”
Isabella gave him a lopsided grin and held out two arms for the taking. Matt moved in for the best part of his day. He never knew a child could tug at a person’s heart the way Isabella did.
He lifted her frail body into a hug and could feel her tiny arms close around his neck as her head relaxed onto his shoulder.
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