by B. A. Beers
“By all means,” he answered, smiling.
“I’ll be right back,” she stated, walking over to the porch and picking up his coffee mug. “You done with this?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered, confused.
“It will do,” she muttered, dumping the remaining coffee on the mound of snow at her feet. “Hmm,” she said, seeing the snow melt where she had poured the coffee. “Got an idea,” she called, moving around to the side of the house.
“This didn’t work,” Mark stated, knowing exactly what she had in mind. His wish for her to grasp the analogy of the appointed task to her own personal recovery was now gone. The dumb luck of the remaining coffee in his mug had given her a shortcut to reach her goal. The ‘no limitations’ clause he agreed to had tied his hands from forbidding her from her set course of action.
Seeing her round the house, he saw the hose coiled over her shoulder and a large, blue bag of something in her hand. “What’s in the bag?” he asked.
“Rock salt,” she responded, dropping the hose near the water spigot and attaching the hose to it.
“STOP!” Mark ordered. “You are going to make a mess. Don’t waste the water or salt. I will do it.”
“No,” Sami called. “You gave me this assignment and I will complete it.”
“You have completed it,” he replied, picking up the snow shovel and attacking the snow. He heard Sami’s evil-sounding laughter behind him. He had been caught in his own web, and she knew it. Groaning loudly, he asked, “How about a refill on the coffee?”
“Okey-dokey,” she responded airily.
“While you are at it, sprinkle some of that rock salt on the back steps,” he requested, knowing that he would need to use them to gather more firewood.
“Anything else you require, sire?” she asked sarcastically.
He only shook his head in response. “Oh, Mark. She is clever. Stay on your toes,” he said softly to himself, shaking his head as the snow flew.
***
NINE
Hearing the cabin’s door open, Mark found himself tense at the sound, refusing to look up from his shoveling. “Just leave it on the railing, Sami,” he directed.
“It is me,” Grandma Jo called as she carefully made her way to him.
“Sorry,” he replied, looking back at her and seeing her carrying not only the mug, but the red ribbon. “Oh, I forgot.”
“Figured as much,” she said, handing him the ribbon and mug.
Taking only the offered ribbon, he asked, “Did David call?”
“No, not yet,” she answered, looking at her watch; the dial indicated it was 10:37 A.M. “He should have left by now if he wants to arrive around noon.”
“He must have forgotten to call,” Mark said, turning to the path to the road. “I’ll walk down to the main road and secure this somewhere.”
“Mark, before you go, what happened with her?” Grandma Jo asked, indicating with her head to the cabin.
“Why?” he questioned, stopping.
“She is different,” she responded.
“No. Not ‘Mrs. Carter’?” he asked, moaning.
“No, dear. Quite the opposite. She is singing,” she informed him.
Mark glanced at the door and concentrated on trying to pick up any sound from within the cabin. Unable to hear anything, he laughed, “She won this round,” he explained.
“Won?”
“Yes. We were engaged in a little mental swordplay. She skillfully parried my attempt to get her to admit her need for treatment. In other words, I lost,” he replied. “She is celebrating her victory.”
Grandma Jo laughed at Mark’s analogy of their battling. “Did you get cut?”
“Nicked, but no blood,” he admitted, looking back at Grandma Jo.
“So, when is the next round?” she asked, intrigued.
“I am playing it by ear at this point,” he offered. “David’s arrival will speed things along.”
“How?”
“He is bringing her paints and journals with him,” he shared.
“I don’t understand,” she admitted.
“I am working on a few ideas. I will share when they solidify,” he stated.
“What do you want me to do in the meantime?”
“It is Monday, correct?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes,” she answered, puzzled.
“To the kitchen, little lady,” he demanded.
“Cookies? Bread? My baking day?”
“Sounds wonderful,” he replied, turning back to the path and hearing her soft laughter.
Trudging through the snow, Mark’s mind turned to David. Why hadn’t he called? he wondered. David seemed reliable. He hoped it was something simple and not any problems. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he withdrew his cell phone. Only one way to find out, he thought, dialing Grandma Jo’s number. Listening to the unanswered ringing, he disconnected the line. He might still be at Sami’s house, he concluded. Not having Sami’s number memorized, he dialed the clinic; they had the number.
“Five Point,” Jan’s voice greeted him on the second ring.
“Thought I instructed you to take today off,” Mark said, not saying hello.
“Dr. Stevens?” Jan asked.
“Yes.”
“Couldn’t allow Dr. Peterson’s first day back in the office to occur without me. Guess you will have to fire me,” Jan quirked.
“I don’t think so,” Mark responded, laughingly. “Nice try. But, you do need to schedule some days off this week.”
“How about half-days?” Jan offered.
“Are we negotiating?”
“Yes,” Jan giggled.
“Whatever, just take some time for you. You will give the boss a bad reputation,” he countered.
“Yes, sir. How’s it going?” she asked.
“Interesting, to say the least,” Mark acknowledged. “I called for Sami’s home phone number.”
“Why? She is with you, isn’t she?”
Mark sighed deeply. “Just give it to me,” he directed.
“Okay,” she replied, keying-in Sami’s name on the computer and providing him the number.
“Thanks,” he said, disconnecting the line. Quickly entering the number she provided, Mark was a bit disappointed when Sami’s answering machine picked up. Not wanting to leave a message, he hung up. It was a long shot anyway, he concluded. Replacing his cell phone in his pocket, he spotted the snow-covered road ahead. Now, where to attach the ribbon, he thought, looking at the pine trees’ position at the entrance of the path.
Mark selected the trunk of a large tree to his left. Making his way over to it, he was hopeful to have enough ribbon to encircle the tree and still have enough to secure it to the tree. Hugging the tree to enable him to grab the ribbon, he laughed at the picture in his mind of his circumstance. He had never thought of himself as a ‘tree hugger’, but there was a first time for everything.
Securing the ribbon, he looked up and down the road. Spotting only one set of tire tracks in the fresh snow, he was reminded of a poem he had to memorize in school. Shaking his head, he suddenly heard the sound of an engine of a vehicle. Scanning the road in the direction of the sound, he spotted an old beater of a truck slowly coming in his direction. The truck was staying in the grooves of the tracks in the snow. Smart, he thought, hoping David would do the same.
As the truck neared, Mark could see that the driver was an old timer and the other occupant of the cab was a large dog. The man, by what Mark could make out, seemed to be in no better condition than the truck. Mark raised his hand in greeting as the truck stopped before him. “Hello,” he called, smiling. The old timer glared at him without smiling or offering a return greeting. Lowering his hand, Mark asked, “You Gus?”
“Could be,” Gus replied. “Who is asking?”
Mark continued to smile as he stepped over to the side of the truck. “Mark Stevens,” he offered, sticking out his hand.
Gus stared at Mark’s offered hand
and grunted. “Your business?” he asked.
Mark sensed that Gus was reluctant to offer anything. “Here with Mrs. Carter. She is my patient. I am a psychologist,” he stated.
The mention of Sami’s presence brought a smile to Gus’ weathered face and a twinkle to his eye. “She is here?” he asked. Mark only nodded in response. “About time,” he stated, turning off the motor and getting out of the truck. Before closing the door, he signaled for the wolf-like dog to follow. “Think I will go see for myself.”
Mark watched, baffled, as Gus and the dog passed him. “Your truck?” he asked.
“It will be fine. Don’t want to get stuck,” Gus answered, not turning.
“In the middle of the road?” Mark asked disbelievingly.
“Sure, no one in their right mind travels here during the winter months,” he stated knowingly.
Rural life, what a kick, Mark thought, having to sprint to catch up with the old timer and his dog. Drawing up next to Gus, he asked, “Any insight you can provide me of her history would be helpful.”
“Hank and June?” Gus asked. Unknowing of Sami’s parents names, he just nodded. “Nice folks. Hank was a doctor, you know,” Gus stated, looking at Mark.
“I’ve heard,” Mark confirmed.
“Friends with Hank’s parents, also. Good people, those Johnsons,” he commented. “Sad state, if you ask me. Don’t seem fit that I have outlasted them all.”
“Any other family?” Mark asked.
“Not that I know,” Gus admitted. “Hank’s younger brother, Robert, died in the Great War. Cece took it hard; made her old overnight. Hank tried hard to step in, but she wouldn’t get over it. Robert was her baby.”
“Tell me more about Hank and June,” Mark pressed.
“Well, Hank wanted to do it all. It was probably because of Robert. He just wore himself out; died way too young. His heart took him like Rose. I am sure he blamed himself for her condition. Now June, what a loss. She was a really fine lass. She, too, was taken before her time,” he said, shaking his head.
“Rose?” Mark prompted.
“Sami’s twin?” Gus asked.
“Yes,” Mark replied.
“Wee little thing, she was,” Gus recalled. “Didn’t see them much during that time. Rose couldn’t handle the air here. June doted on her. Felt sorry for Sami; she didn’t understand. Poor thing. Always felt June was wrong to forbid talking about Rose after her passing. Felt it had something to do with Robert and the way Hank carried it around with him.” Mark nodded, understanding June’s decision to hide Rosemarie away.
As they entered the clearing in front of the cabin, Gus asked, “How is she, doc?”
“You’ll see for yourself,” Mark stated, looking at the large dog. “She has a dog.”
Gus stopped and looked at his dog. “Woof is gentle,” he replied.
“That is not it,” Mark admitted. “Sami is emotionally attached to her dog. Molly, her dog, has been isolated. She did well with my dog, but he is the same breed. I do not know how she will respond to your dog.”
“What do you suggest?” Gus asked.
“Wait here. Let’s bring them outside,” Mark offered.
“Doc, that seems like a waste. Woof’s scent is here,” Gus remarked.
“I hadn’t considered that angle,” he stated. “You are here a lot?”
“Not a lot, but some. Woof is always with me,” he answered.
Remembering Molly’s bandaged paws, Mark offered, “What the heck? Come on.” At the base of the steps, both men kicked the snow off their boots before ascending. “Sami, you have a visitor,” Mark called.
***
TEN
Mark heard Sami’s happy-sounding voice through the door. “What have you found? A wild animal to scare me?”
“No,” he answered, smiling and looking up as she opened the door. His breath caught. She was a vision in her pink snow bibs and yellow T-shirt sans the ugly coat. His eyes devoured her from the tips of her pink snow boots to her angelic, smiling face.
“Where in the world did you find this wolf?” she asked.
“He belongs to me,” Gus answered, stepping around the still-mesmerized doctor onto the porch.
Mark’s focus on Sami’s face provided him the opportunity to witness her facial expression turn instantly from that of an angel to a fiery she-devil as she took two steps out on the porch to confront the old timer. “What have you told him?” ‘Mrs. Carter’s’ evil tone was back with a vengeance.
Gus jumped at the viciousness of the verbal attack as Woof growled deeply. “I beg your pardon,” he slung back at her.
Mark was thrown off balance by the exchange. What in the world? he thought, feeling the tension in the air as the two stared at each other.
“I asked you a question. What did you tell him about me?” she stormed at Gus.
Taking steps backward to keep distance between them, Gus offered, “Very little.”
“Did you tell him?” she asked hotly.
“What?” Gus asked.
“Tell me what?” Mark heard himself ask.
Sami kept her eyes glued on Gus. “About Adam,” she sneered.
“Your unborn child?” Mark asked, confused.
Gus looked at Mark. “What did you say?” he asked.
“Her child that died in the accident,” Mark answered.
“What accident?” Gus asked, perplexed.
“The one that killed her family,” Mark replied.
Gus shook his head and looked back at Sami. “You told him Adam died in the accident?” he asked her.
Mark was lost. Looking at Sami, he saw her eyes were the size of saucers. “You lied to me?” he asked. “Adam is alive?”
Sami appeared frozen. She showed no signs that she had heard him. Mark looked over at Gus. “Tell me. Is Adam alive?” he demanded.
Keeping eye contact with Sami, Gus replied, “Yes, very much alive.”
Gus’ admission to the fact resulted in Sami bolting across the porch and down the steps. She was moving swiftly across the clearing in the direction of the lake with the bandaged-pawed Molly on her heels.
Hearing the surprising news of Adam and observing Sami’s quick departure, Mark was momentarily stunned. Woof’s deep bark vibrated the air around him and brought him out of his stupor.
“Sami! Molly!” Mark yelled after them.
“What is going on?” Grandma Jo asked, stepping onto the porch.
“Stay here,” Mark ordered, taking off after the two females and dashing across the clearing.
“Go, Woof. Stop them,” Gus directed.
Mark saw Woof pass him. The dog was easily handling the deep snow. Fearing for Sami’s welfare as the wolf-dog advanced, Mark yelled, “Stop, Sami.”
His words went unheeded as the distance between them increased. Her snow boots and lighter body weight provided her with better traction in the deep snow. Frustrated, Mark could only watch with mounting fear as Woof collided into Sami, forcing her into the snow. Molly went on the offense and jumped at the larger dog, sending Woof rolling off Sami into the snow. Mark envisioned a nasty dog fight was about to begin and he worried for Molly. “No, Molly,” he ordered, trying with all his might to close the distance.
To his disbelief, the dogs did not fight. Woof didn’t regain his feet, but only lifted his head. Molly did not attack further. She paced between Woof and Sami. There was no growling from either. They just eyed each other suspiciously. Mark’s focus shifted from the dogs to the lifeless form of Sami sprawled out in the snow, face down. She had not moved. “Sami,” he called as he neared. Receiving no response, Mark dropped to his knees and rolled her over. “Sami?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”
Mark was not prepared for what he saw. He expected her to be hurt or even mad, but what he didn’t foresee was the vacant look he was receiving. He knew this look. He had seen it countless times. He had lost her; she had mentally retreated. “No,” he cried, rocking her non-responsive body in his embrace.
<
br /> ***
Mark felt Molly’s tongue lick his hand. Focusing on the Springer, he knew that this time even her dog would not bring her back to him. Rotating his hand to pet her, he offered heavy-heartedly, “She is gone from us, Molly. This time even ‘Mrs. Carter’ has lost.” Mark looked back at Sami. “I would even enjoy having ‘her’ with us at this moment,” he shared.
