Sleeping Roses

by RaShelle Workman

  “It’s okay,” Rina said, tenderly. “It was just a dream.”

  Chapter 11

  It was a beautiful Thursday evening. Sophie stood in front of the house she knew would be hers. It was a six thousand square foot two-story made of stone and brick. Way too large, but perfect in many other ways. The land, the house, all of it chanted perfection to her.

  The entrance had a huge wood beam on either side, giving it a grand, earthy countenance. More than the house, though, she loved the five acres her house was on. The front was fully landscaped with several different kinds of trees efficiently standing guard all along the driveway, as if they were her personal sentries, there to protect her from all who would try to harm her.

  Against the house were plant boxes full of shrubs, a Japanese maple, rose bushes and other perennials. Although David had ruined red roses for her, the Realtor had given her a list of all of the types of flowers in the planter boxes. From it, she read there wasn’t a single red rose bush in the bunch. She pictured what the front of the house would look like with all of the flowers and rose bushes in bloom. It occurred to her, at this moment, the rose bushes were sleeping or dormant. She sensed the irony, as she realized she, too, had been asleep these past years, like the sleeping roses in front of her.

  I must’ve been to survive my life with David, she thought purposefully.

  The porch was the entire length of the front of the house. She knew she'd fasten a wooden swing to one side, put a small table and chairs on the other and fill the rest with pots of flowers and hanging plants. Behind the house was a barn and corral. There was also a chicken coop and a garden area. She put a hand on her abdomen, rubbing it delightfully as she thought of the fun she would share with her child, riding horses, gardening, kindly harassing the chickens for their eggs, and even mucking out the coop.

  As a backdrop, the mountains—snow-capped at the moment—stood prestigiously grand. She imagined herself standing out there in late summer, up to her hips in wheat grass, listening to the chirping of the insects and the gleeful singing of the birds. Behind the large, red barn was a stream, small but still babbling on, even this late in the fall. Taking it all in, she realized the place seemed magical to her, as if she'd dreamed it.

  Had she, she marveled, a strange sensation clasping her heart. Holding perfectly still, she willed the feeling to go away.

  “I deserve something good,” she repeated, several times.

  Closing her eyes, she lifted her chin into the crisp evening air and breathed deeply. The sensation washed away and she was left again with peace and excitement.

  This is my place, she thought, laughing happily. Opening her eyes, she walked slowly back to Ms. Simms.

  "Well, what do you think?" Ms. Simms asked when Sophie stopped in front of her.

  She knew her eyes were sparkling. “I love it. It’s bigger than I wanted, but, it's beautiful inside, and the outside is perfect."

  "Great," Ms. Simms stated, her smile genuine. "Shall we put in an offer or did you want to see the other houses I've found?"

  "Let's make an offer on this one.

  She asked her to negotiate the price with the sellers, to which Ms. Simms responded she would.

  Sophie was thrilled.

  #

  Sophie walked out onto the balcony of her thirty-sixth floor hotel suite, shutting the sliding glass door behind her.

  Sitting on one of the beautifully crafted chairs, she leaned back. The moon was full and bright. It looked close enough that she could reach out and touch it. Opening her laptop, she fumbled with the keys. Even though she lived in the twenty-first century, David hadn't let her own a computer, and technology had changed drastically in the past two years. She knew the basics, though, and logged onto her bank’s web site. She needed to transfer money into her checking account for the house she hoped to purchase.

  An overwhelming sense of guilt and gratitude took hold. She knew she had it too easy. She wondered what she would’ve done if she didn't have the money her aunt left her. Rina told her there were a lot of women going through the same situation she was, but had no money and no one to turn to.

  She'd asked Rina what happened to them and Rina took her to a women's shelter. She'd been devastated. The shelter, although clean, looked like it was in desperate need of financial support. Rina told her all of them were the same, clean, but deficient. She'd decided she would donate a substantial amount of her inheritance to the women's shelters around Utah and become more involved. She wanted to do something to help other women.

  Signing off, she leaned back in her chair again enjoying the chilly night air. There were several blinking lights in the sky and she realized they were planes waiting to land.

  Her mind jetted back nine years to the night her parents had been killed on their way to the airport . . .

  It was her senior year in high school. She was excited to have her parents leave her alone for a week, excited with anticipation of the freedoms she would have, staying up late, watching whatever she wanted on television, having friends over, eating whenever she wanted.

  Her mother told her, "Take care of the house, Soph. Lock up at night."

  "I will, mom," she uttered impatiently.

  "I’m sure you will but I’m allowed to worry, you know.”

  “I know mom and I appreciate it.”

  “Your dad and I want to see the national monuments, our history," she told her for the hundredth time.

  "I'm sure you'll have a great time in Washington D.C.," she returned, handing her mom a carry-on bag she knew was full of half finished knitting projects and crossword puzzles.

  Her mother didn't like to be idle. Sophie gave her mom a quick hug and said,

  "I'll see you in a week. Have fun."

  Her mother blew a kiss as she walked to the car. Her dad was already there, loading the car with endless luggage. She watched through the window at his skill, standing when she saw him coming to the front door.

  "Sophie," he said, smiling brightly. "Are you sure you don't want to come? It won't all be sightseeing."

  "Yes, it will." She laughed, knowing her dad teased her. They'd had a long talk earlier in the day about her weeklong liberation and the responsibilities coming with it.

  He seemed to choke up a little as he said, "Call us anytime. We want to hear from you." Putting his arms around her, he wrapped her in his warmth and safety. Letting her go, he continued, "We'll call you when we land."

  The call from her parents had never come. Instead, she came home from school to find two police officers waiting. They gave her the horrible news that her parents were killed in a car crash five miles from the airport. They'd died instantly. Her happiness turned to devastation, and sorrow permanently planted itself in her soul. It was still there, a dull sprout of pain whose stems had constrained her heart and everything else in her life.

  She honored her parents’ wishes and went to college right after graduating high school, where she met first Rina, and then David.

  Looking back, she didn't regret college. She knew she'd done the right thing. It had helped her grieving process to have something else to focus on. Painting had been especially therapeutic, allowing her pain and anguish to come out onto the canvas. She excelled, her professors raved. The painting she named "Dear Anger" won a National Arts Competition. She felt pride at having such a personal expression of her feelings being validated, but still the peace hadn't come and the pain of losing her parents hadn't wilted.

  How I miss them, she lamented anew, wondering what her parents would think of her choices in life, David especially.

  "You'd love me anyway," she whispered, knowing they would’ve been supportive. She wished David would sign the divorce papers and get out of her life. Somehow, though, she knew this battle she’d raged against him would change her life forever.

  Please help me get through this, she prayed silently, placing a hand gently on her abdomen.

  #

  The following morning Sophie awoke wit
h a newfound determination. For one thing, she didn't have any morning sickness. Also, after a lot more thinking the night before, she decided running away wasn't an option. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life worrying about whether or not David would find her. She wanted to see this through with him.

  She knew it was the best thing for both her and her child. When she walked into her classroom, her newfound resolve evaporated almost as quickly as it had come. Sitting grandly on her desk was a large bouquet of flowers.

  Her curiosity was peaked, though, because instead of roses, it looked like some of every kind of wild flower from the mountains: Goldeneye, Sego lilies, Wallflowers, Aster, Bluebells, Cryptantha and Woollybase. The flowers were beautiful but she was skeptical since she’d never received flowers from anyone but David. Past experience taught her receiving flowers didn't mean anything good. There was an envelope with her name on it leaning near the bottom of the vase.

  She unconsciously held her breath. Scanning the room, she checked to make sure she was alone and then gingerly walked over to the envelope feeling a sudden need to get whatever David had to say out in the open.

  She was pleasantly surprised, however, to find they were from Phillip. She read, and reread the card several times.

  Hope you’re feeling better. Wondered if you'd have dinner with me tonight.

  With deepest regard,

  Phillip

  Enjoying her feelings, she let out her breath, quivering with delight. It is good to get flowers, especially from him, she thought. She put the card back in the envelope, and with the giddiness of a teenager, leaned into the nearest flower, breathing in deeply.

  "You had me worried, you know."

  She jumped, whipping around. “You scared me!”

  "I tend to scare you sometimes, don't I?"

  "Yes, you do Phillip," she answered mockingly, walking over to him. “These are beautiful. I love them. Thank you."

  "You’re welcome."

  "I feel bad about your eye and everything. I didn’t mean to drag you into my mess." She spoke softly, hoping he understood.

  "I'm okay."

  She reached up and delicately touched the cut near his eyebrow.

  "Well, I'm grateful you were there. I can't even think about what would have happened if you hadn't been."

  He reached up and took her hand in both of his. His voice filled with emotion.

  “I'm glad I was there, too."

  Awkward, they stood there silently, and then he said, "Will you?"

  "Will I what?" Suddenly, it dawned on her that he was talking about his note. Lowering her eyes, she whispered, “Yes, I'd love to.”

  #

  One thing she'd learned from being with David was how to accentuate the positive. She'd become a professional at getting herself beautiful. Tonight, though, was a different story. From picking out shoes, to buying the dress had been difficult. She couldn't decide what to do with her makeup and she kept messing with her hair. She was skittish, a frightened rabbit, all nervous and jittery.

  At eight-fifteen, she finally felt satisfied. She had to admit she looked good. Her long hair was down. She'd put hot rollers in it, so it was full of soft curls.

  Applying a little more eye makeup, since it was nighttime, her eyes looked smoky. Over time, she’d come to realize with her fair skin, a little more makeup in the evening enhanced her large eyes and pouty lips.

  She’d chosen a black, V-neck wrap around dress. It came to the middle of her kneecaps. Some of her curviness had returned to her body, due to more food and her pregnancy. The dress hugged them tightly. She looked womanly once again. She wore a pearl necklace, earrings, and bracelet set that had been her Mothers, hose and a pair of three-inch black pumps to complete her outfit. She walked over to grab her matching cream-black clutch when her hotel phone rang.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, it's me, Phillip." He sounded a little nervous. “I'm down in the lobby when you're ready."

  "Fine, I'll be right down."

  "Oh, great, I'll see you in a minute then.”

  She hung up, picked up her clutch and went down to meet him. On the way, she wondered why men thought women were going to be late. It was a stigma she never understood.

  When the elevator doors opened, she saw him immediately. He looked amazing. Cleans up nicely, she mused.

  No jeans on tonight. Instead, he had on charcoal dress pants and a forest green, long sleeved, button up shirt and a charcoal, forest green and black diagonally striped tie. What surprised her most, though, was he'd shaved.

  "Wow," she exclaimed.

  "Back at you. You look beautiful."

  "Thank you," she returned demurely. She liked having him think she looked good.

  He took her hand and placed it at the bend of his arm.

  "Are you ready to go?"

  She nodded, glancing at him sideways.

  Once they were in the car, she started to feel nervous again. Luckily Phillip seemed nervous as well. He cleared his throat before he said, “I thought we'd go to this restaurant a friend of mine told me about. I’m sure you've heard of it because it has your name, and is supposed to have amazing food.”

  She wasn't sure how to respond and she was in shock. Her mind raced with thoughts about what to say. She didn't want to sound rude, but no way would she set foot inside David’s restaurant.

  "I'd rather not."

  "Why? It’s not as good as I've heard?"

  "No," she answered cautiously. Her insides were starting to constrict. Should I tell him, she debated. “It's my husband. I mean, my soon to be ex-husband, owns the restaurant." Phillip’s features swam with stunned disbelief. The response he'd planned frozen on his gorgeous lips. She hurried on, "The food is delicious. Definitely go sometime, but not tonight. Not with me. I can't go in there."

  "Right. I completely agree. I guess I should’ve known,” he concurred.

  “How would you have known?” Embarrassed, she shrugged.

  He seemed morose momentarily, before he brightened. “Do you want to try something else?”

  She'd been thinking of just calling the whole evening off but when he asked her the question, she knew she’d say yes. "I would,” she replied, a little of the giddiness returned.

  “Okay. Great! How about Spencer’s? The food there is really good.” When she didn't answer right away, he continued, "He doesn't own Spencer’s too, does he?"

  “No. I'd be perfectly delighted to try Spencer’s. It's supposed to have good steak and seafood, right?”

  “Right,” he returned, clearly relieved. With care, he pulled out of the hotel parking lot.

  Chapter 12

  "Clive and Janice are your parents' names?”

  “Good memory,” he concurred, smiling at her. He cut a piece of his rare steak and popped it in his mouth.

  Sophie continued, “And your sisters' names are Evelyn and Madeline.”

  “Wow, you’re amazing. Yes, those are their given names, but I call them Eve and Maddy.”

  She couldn’t help but watch him. He reminded her of a child in a man’s body, full of energy and enthusiasm. He gushed exuberance and Sophie wondered if she could keep up. Admittedly, though, she enjoyed herself. She loved watching him get excited about everything. It was intoxicating.

  A memory of herself and David at Sophie’s on one of their dates flashed into her mind. She’d enjoyed evenings like this with him, as well, in the beginning, before they married. Sighing, she pushed the thought out of her mind deciding she wouldn’t let David turn her into a cynical person.

  I want to really know someone. It has to be possible.

  She'd been done eating for quite a while, but he didn't seem like he'd be slowing down any time soon. He seemed perfectly content to continue eating until the restaurant closed. She’d learned a lot about him tonight. She found his company gratifying, his manner relaxed. She enjoyed the way he talked too much about everything. Not only did she know the names of his mom, dad and two sisters, but he
told her the names and ages of all eight of his nieces and nephews, his grandparents' names and how they'd met.

  He told her his family owned a successful import/export business and, even though his father wanted him to take over the family business one day, Phillip had no interest in it. Acting. The theater. It was, and would always be, where his interests remained. She thought it was great to know someone willing to share himself without holding back. She loved the way he looked, too. Whether vain or not, she didn’t care. As an artist, she had to admire the masterpiece God created when He made Phillip.

  She knew she stared. It was hard not to. His lips were full and soft. She remembered their kiss for the millionth time. It must be an oddity to remember our kiss more vividly than the man in the mask.

  She let her mind drift a little; thinking about what things might be like with this beautiful man sitting across the table from her. It would be a wonderful life, she was sure.

  Abruptly, though, she remembered her situation. She was still married, and pregnant. She didn't need to complicate her life any further by getting involved with someone.

  Even if it would be perfect, she mused wistfully. If only my life were different.

  “Are you going to tell me what you're thinking about?” he questioned softly, gazing at her with his amazing eyes.

  "Oh," she responded, flushing. “It's nothing, only I'm having a lot of fun with you tonight and I think it’s great we're friends." She'd looked him directly in the eyes, hoping he understood her emphasis on friends.

  He understood because his countenance changed. She felt awful, but knew it was the right thing to do.

  "I thought we were becoming more than friends," he said intently. He looked as though he wanted to say more but, instead leaned down and brought up the box he'd placed next to his chair at the table. He placed the box in front of her. “This is for you."