Roses Collection: Boxed Set

by Freda, Paula

  Abby recalled the young woman's image. She looked to be in her late twenties, slim, about Jason's height, straight-backed, wearing a white windbreaker over her nurse's outfit. Abby had only seen her briefly, her whole attention moving to Jason. She did recall the woman having shoulder length dark hair worn loose and minus a nurse's cap. Those two latter facts made her think that Jessica's presence that morning was not strictly professional, especially the way she placed her hand on Jason's shoulder, and her caring, compassionate expression.

  Abby recalled the words of Jason's mother.

  "...and in the last two years, he's fallen into depression. Doesn't eat right. He keeps up the exercises, but his spirit is low. He's almost given up. If it wasn't for that girl, a godsend, I think he'd be gone by now."

  "The girl, the one assisting him?

  "Yes, you mentioned she was with him. Jessica is the registered nurse he met at the hospital shortly after the accident. When he was discharged, he insisted we hire her as his personal nurse. He told his father that if money were an issue, to use whatever savings or inheritance was due him...."

  True to her promise, Helene emailed her son's address and Jessica's phone number. Abby waited until nine o'clock, hoping that the young nurse had returned home by then. On the third ring, a woman answered, slightly out of breath. "Yes."

  "Good evening. I-is this Jessica?"

  "Uh-huh."

  Abby breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then came, "If you're a telemarketer, I'm not interested. But thank you just the same."

  Sensing the nurse was about to click off, Abby exclaimed, "No, no, I'm not a telemarketer. I'm Abigail, Abby. Please don't hang up."

  A definite pause. Abby feared she hadn't spoken quickly enough.

  "Abby? Jason's Abby?"

  "I was."

  "Okay. I'm listening."

  "Thank you. I won't keep you on long." Abby bit her bottom lip, searching for the right words to keep from saying something that might set Jessica against her. "Has Jason's mother called you about my visiting him? If he'll see me, that is."

  Jessica's tone was less impatient. "Yes, Helene called me about you. I haven't said anything yet to Jason about your possible visit. Since that morning he saw you on the observatory deck, he's been more distraught. He'd felt particularly low that morning, his exercises more painful than usual, so I suggested an outing to the city to help him relax, feel part of the human race once more. I thought that taking him up to the Empire State Building's observatory deck would help him relax. Sometimes so high above the streets and so close to the sky, problems appear distant and surmountable. I never imagined we'd encounter you and your beau in the midst of a proposal."

  "So you know pretty much our past history. If he hasn't mentioned me, I'm sure Helene has."

  "A little of both," Jessica said. "I am surprised you did call tonight. But I remember the shock on your face when you saw him. And the ensuant sadness I read there. It crossed my mind you might still be in love with him."

  Abby swallowed hard. Johnny had asked the same question. And to be truthful, hadn't it crossed her mind as well. Wasn't that the reason she wanted to see Jason face to face? To either prove or disprove the thought. Again she recalled the look on his face and what she'd interpreted in his gaze. — not rancor or jealousy, but heart-wrenching sadness.

  "You're a good study of character," Abby found the courage to say. "I'm not really sure why I want to see him ... need to see him. I have a wonderful man who loves me for myself, who sees in me what most don't. The kind of man who wants me to meet with Jason, so I can determine what my feelings truly are. By the way, woman to woman, I read the love in your eyes for Jason when he looked up at you. Am I wrong?"

  Jessica took a moment to reply. "No, you're not wrong. You're not the only one with a history with Jason, although mine was brief, lasted only a few dates, shortly after he broke with you. It might have lasted longer, if I was as compliant as you'd been and as easily fooled. I wasn't. And when he couldn't get what he wanted from me, he stopped calling.

  "I was close to graduating Med School at the time. By the time Jason suffered his accident, I was a registered nurse who worked part-time at the hospital where they brought his injured body. I was assigned to a patient in the room next to his. The regular floor's nurse had not arrived yet, so the doctor called me in to assist in case of shock or trauma while he delivered his diagnosis. It's not easy hearing that the doctors have done all they can, but you still will probably never walk again.

  "In Jason's case, knowing his ego and ambition, his reaction and trauma were fierce. The sedative ordered had no effect. The doctor feared he'd have a heart attack or a stroke. Then Jason recognized me, someone who didn't sneer as his father had earlier that day during his brief visit, asking how he could have been so stupid to allow himself such an accident. His mother had been in tears, and offered Jason all the comfort possible. But you remember Jason. He was always his father's son."

  Abby listened attentively. Her suspicions confirmed, she stated, reverting to her candid, brazen openness, "I'm glad you're in love with Jason, especially since I saw the way he looked up at you. You're strong where I was weak. If anyone can save him, it's you. I hope you'll allow me to see him so I can reassure him that even with his injuries, he's in a better place than he would ever have been with me."

  Jessica's reply held great compassion. "Of course you can see him. Even if he balks. In the first place, I have no right to stop your coming. And I do welcome you, whether I'll regret it or not. Come soon. He needs your reassurance."

  "When is a good time?" Abby asked, grateful.

  "Tomorrow. It's his birthday. His mother will be visiting in the afternoon. His father is busy. He's already begun to distance himself. Come in the morning, dear Abby."

  "Okay, I will, and thank you."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  She had forgotten the exact date of Jason's birthday, probably a subconscious defense maneuver because that last birthday in college that she had planned to celebrate with joy, had fallen on graduation day. What memories followed the cap and gown ceremony were brined in heartbreak.

  Should she buy him a gift? Abby grimaced. Totally inappropriate, as Jason might refuse to meet with her. And Johnny, what would he think of her, if she gave in to the urge. Had he learned that about her yet? She enjoyed buying and giving presents, often more than the recipients. She didn't exceed her budget; living on her own had taught her to be frugal. But neither did she miss a chance to see the appreciation on a dear one's face for her efforts. Would Johnny understand that about her? Abby sighed.

  Johnny. She had promised to call him tonight and let him know if she'd finalized her plans to visit Jason. Again, she marveled at his kindness. And again, she cringed at the possible consequences of seeing Jason once more. He was no longer that arrogant, self-sufficient, ambitious, narcissist. He was broken and needy, his future bleak, pitiable. How easy for her to adopt the Florence Nightingale syndrome, especially since she still harbored feelings for him. He'd dropped her, not the opposite. If he reached out to her, hoping to rekindle their relationship, how would she react? She chanced losing the one man in her life who actually appeared to admire and love her for herself, flaws and all.

  Best to call Jessica and cancel the meeting. Johnny's words came to mind. ...Abby, I rather you do go. You'll never be at peace with yourself if you don't. And I don't want his image obscuring our love for each other. You have to go. And as I offered, I'll come with you. Believe me, I've no intention of giving you up easily. In the end, though, the choice must be freely yours....

  She heard again the inference in his words that she might be swayed to leave him for Jason if in his weariness, the man in the wheelchair turned to her. Abby shivered.

  ...You have to go. You'll never be at peace with yourself if you don't....

  "Very well, on your head be it!" she barked, immediately regretting the bitterness in her words. Quickly, before she might change her mind, she cal
led Johnny.

  Briefly, avoiding any emotional retrospection, she gave him quick details of her phone conversation with Jessica, and the planned meeting with Jason. Date and time set, she thanked Johnny. "You're one in a million," she told him.

  "Okay, Abby. I'll pick you up in the morning. Try to get a decent night's rest." A pause, and then, "I love you, Abby." He seemed to be waiting for a reply. Abby swore under her breath. She should at least reassure him, I love you, too. But the turmoil in her mind made the words stick in her throat. She clicked off. Call him back, her thoughts urged. No, that's childish, amateurish. He's probably already regretting his proposal.

  A decent night's rest was out of the question. Nonetheless, she took a shower, styled and dried her hair, slipped into her nightgown and climbed into bed. She didn't realize how tired she'd grown arguing with herself and within moments fell asleep.

  Her cellphone vibrating to the tune of Star Wars woke her at six a.m.. Blearily, she reached over and searched on her night table and clasped the cellphone, almost dropping it. Too drowsy to read the ID of the party calling, she tapped OPEN. "Yes...," she drawled sleepily. "Who is it?"

  "It's Jessica. I'm sorry to call so early. But it's important." When no reply came, she asked, "Abby, are you awake?"

  Abby opened her eyes wide as her drowsy mind processed the caller's name. "Yes, sorry. I'm here." With a soft chuckle, she added, "Well, almost." She forced herself to sit up. "A bit early for me, sorry ... okay, what's up?"

  "It's all right, Abby. Nothing major. Just a slight change. Instead of coming to Jason's apartment, would you mind meeting us at our Parish Church? It's only a few blocks further north."

  "Church?" Abby asked.

  "Yes, Mother of Christ Parish."

  "It's fine with me, but out of curiosity, why the change?"

  "Well, two reasons. Saturday mornings I take Jason to Devotionals and Mass. The Rosary, the Divine Chaplet, Benediction."

  "All that? Wow. I don't remember Jason being a churchgoer."

  "No, the former Jason wasn't. But suffering and the brink of despair can change that."

  "You remind me of a very dear friend and her husband. I gather you're deeply religious, yourself."

  "In my profession," Jessica said, "you see a lot of pain and depression. My parents brought me up with a deep love and respect for the Good Lord and His Holy Mother."

  Her voice suffused with reverence. "God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and Mary are always there to lend us support in this rough world. They can't always offer us the solution, without interfering with someone else's free will, but always the strength to persevere."

  "You speak beautifully. I'm glad Jason is in your care. I was brought up in a good Christian family, but when I left home for college and eventually moved on my own, I didn't attend church regularly. Too busy, I guess, living in the real world."

  "That's often the case," Jessica said. "But it's never too late to reclaim your faith. With the Lord's help, I've saved Jason from destroying his life, but he has a long way to go before attaining the peace of mind and spirit he needs to get on with his life. That may take me a lifetime, with no guarantees."

  Abby was liking Jessica more and more. Jason was very lucky to have her near him. At length, she asked, "You mentioned two reasons. Would the second be that meeting him in the church's peaceful surroundings might make it easier for both of us?"

  "Yes, that's it. Can you understand?"

  "I do understand. What time should I be there?"

  "Around eight. That's when the services start."

  Abby asked, "I hope you don't mind, but my fiancé is bringing me. He's a churchgoer, himself. Deeply devoted. He's already offered to stay in the background. Do you mind?"

  "Not at all. Your fiancé sounds like a good man."

  "Oh, he is. A very good man."

  They spoke a bit more, mostly light chatter to ease their spirits, before disconnecting.

  It was late and Abby was talked out. She texted Johnny the time to come, around 7:30 a.m., and asked for a confirmation. It came quickly, as though he'd been waiting by the phone. His text reply, "I'll be there," was followed by a heart emoticon.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  She dressed simply. Nothing to allure. Taupe slacks, apricot short-sleeved button-down blouse, and black pumps. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and applied her makeup lightly, then she went to the kitchen aisle and brewed a pot of coffee.

  She couldn't pinpoint the reason for desperately needing to bake something. Mixing her easiest recipe, she prepared the batter for a loaf pound cake, filled the non-stick pan half way and placed it in the oven at 350° F. for forty minutes. It waited still warm on the cake platter, next to the coffee machine and a cake cutter, when Johnny rang the doorbell.

  She opened the door, read the warm smile on his lips, and fell into his arms before he'd even entered. He hugged her and she relished the feel of his arms about her. Warm and comforting, at least for the present, she thought. Enjoy it.

  "Wow!" he greeted. "I haven't made up my mind yet, which I like better — the hug or the tantalizing aroma of coffee and cake, just baked I'd venture?"

  "I don't know what got into me this morning," Abby exclaimed. "Felt the inexplicable need to bake something."

  "They say cake is great to boost the ego."

  "And the waistline," Abby added

  Johnny chuckled. "Yes, that too." He kissed her, a lengthy, gentle kiss. Abby didn't move from his arms, until he pleaded, "Can I come in now?"

  "Oh, of course, sorry." She let go and backed away. "Come in. Let's have some of that coffee and cake you praised."

  They had finished their second cup when Abby reached for another refill. Johnny asked, "Sweetheart, how many of those have you had this morning?"

  She lowered her arm. "Three. You're right. My nerves are naturally uptight. I don't need more caffeine."

  "You said, Mother of Christ Church?" Johnny asked, as an afterthought. "I seem to remember visiting there with my parents for some friend's wedding. It shouldn't be more than a twenty-minute drive."

  "You don't mind the last minute change of location, do you?" Abby asked.

  "No, not at all. I can see the wisdom in it. Jessica sounds like an intelligent woman, and very kind."

  "A lot like you, Johnny."

  He sent her a shy smile. She loved that especially about him. He didn't like people praising him. But that humility didn't fit his broad-shouldered stature.

  "Well, I think we should go," he said, "so we won't be late." He stood up, taking her with him. "You all set?"

  "Yes ... I'll just get my purse."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Johnny and Abby entered the church proper. Devoted parishioners knelt in the pews, voices raised in song, along with the priest cloaked in a white and gold vestment, who knelt at the foot of the altar. Abby scanned the pews and sighted Jessica seated next to the aisle in the first row with Jason in the wheelchair in front.

  The Priest sang, Eternal Father, I offer thee the body and blood of your dearly beloved son, Our Lord Jesus Christ," to which the congregation responded, "in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world."

  "Father has begun The Chaplet of Divine Mercy," Johnny said to Abby as they moved down the center aisle. "How about there?" He asked her, pointing to empty spaces in a pew a couple of rows behind Jessica.

  "Yes, that's good. I can see the pair clearly."

  "For the sake of his sorrowful passion," the priest sang.

  Abby, with Johnny coaching her, continued the prayer along with the congregation, "Have mercy on us and on the whole world."

  Abby had never heard of the Chaplet of Divine Mercy; she'd been away from Church a long time. Johnny whispered the words in her ear, surprising her more so when he drew out a corded brown-beaded Rosary. "Military issue," he spoke softly. "The Chaplain in my unit distributed them to the men, especially those in areas with the heaviest fighting."

  "Military issue?" Abby asked,
nonplussed.

  "Yes. The beads are strung on military-grade parachute cord, a tough, lightweight rope that connects soldiers to their parachutes."

  She listened enrapt, his voice soft and low, so as not to disturb those around them. "Daily praying The Chaplet to Jesus, and the Rosary to the Blessed Mother, are what kept me from losing my sanity in the face of exploding land mines and missiles."

  Abby felt admiration surge within her for this man who persisted in his faith despite what he'd been through.

  The prayers continued, five decades, then the Rosary itself. From her place, Abby watched Jason's face as he prayed along with the Congregation. His eyes were fixed on the life-size Cross with the figure of Christ crucified that hung above the altar. Never in the years spent together with Jason in college, had she seen him pray. The man was praying now, his eyes pleading with the Lord, his whole demeanor humble.

  "Jessica must be the Lord's Angel of Mercy sent to help Jason," she whispered to Johnny, her gaze moist with tears. Her heartbeat quickened as memories of her time with Jason resurfaced. He'd swept her off her feet with his handsomeness, his attentiveness, and his kisses. That is, until he'd grown bored with her, and exasperated with what he considered her flaws. She wondered how much his sufferings had changed him. Had they taught him compassion and forbearance? Might he welcome and return her affections once more? This time he was the flawed one.

  Abby felt the urge to go to him, to comfort him, to assure him she did not hold the past or his injuries against him. She could love him again ... she had never stopped loving him.

  Perhaps he sensed her watching, or it might have been a chance turn of his head, he saw her. Again the desperate sadness in his eyes calling to her. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own. She stood up, and would have left the pew and run to him, if Johnny's hand had not clasped her wrist, or his calm words stayed her. "Not now, Abby. Wait until the devotions are over."