Bouquet: Sequel to 'In Full Bloom': The Trilogy of the Rose (Volume 3) (4 page)

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THREE

E
yeing the cabin in the distance, Mark felt a wave of bitter sweetness descend upon him.  He was indeed happy to know he had found it, but the absence of any one of the three females within the cabin, watching for his return, made him feel wanting.  The emotion was powerful and the more he thought about it, the more he fumed.  Their obvious lack of concern for him smarted as he stared at the opened back door.

How would they possibly know of your heroic deed?
his inner voice reasoned.  Their focus would be on the returning dog.  He envisioned them seeing Molly’s state and then rushing to ensure the dog’s comfort.  He could see them in his mind doting on Molly — drying her, warming her, cuddling her.  A wry smile crossed his face; he knew that he would not receive the same mothering treatment when he crossed the threshold.  He would be lucky if he was not yelled at for tracking water into the cabin.  Shaking his head, he trekked the last couple of yards. Stepping onto the snowy stoop, Mark again lost traction and fell forward.  “These have to got to go,” he yelled as he turned and yanked off his gloves and then his shoes, tossing them in the general direction of the door. 

“Mark?” Grandma Jo’s voice called from further in the cabin.

“Yes,” Mark replied angrily, getting to his stocking feet and climbing the rest of the steps.  

Rounding the edge of the half-wall that separated the living area from the kitchen, Grandma Jo took in Mark’s overall disheveled appearance.  “Strip,” she ordered, “to the shower.”  Mark looked at Grandma Jo strangely.  “Do it!” she ordered. 

So much for a warm greeting
, Mark thought as he concentrated on removing his coat. 

Seeing Mark’s bare chest and the blue tint to the skin, she softened.  “Go,” she directed softly, turning and walking to the hall.  “I’ll get you dry clothes.”

Mark dropped the coat and the wet sweatshirt on the floor and followed her in his wet socks.  Reaching the main room, Mark saw Sami cuddling with Molly in front of the fire with her back to him. 
I could use your body warmth
, he thought as he headed to the bathroom.

At the bathroom door, Mark saw Grandma Jo exit his bedroom with his dark-blue sweats in her hands. “Will these do?” she asked.

“Yes,” Mark said, taking the clothes.  “Socks?”

“Here,” she said, pulling a pair out of the pocket of her coat.  “Stay under the spray until you feel warm.”

“I don’t think there is enough hot water to do that,” he said selfishly. 

Shaking her head, she laughed softly.  “I will make you some hot tea.”

“Thanks.  Be out in a minute,” he answered, seeing her head to the main room.

Mark turned and closed the door.  Dropping the dry set of clothes and socks on the counter, he quickly removed the iced jeans, underwear and socks before stepping into the shower.  Adjusting the water spray to the hottest tolerable temperature, he stepped into the shower and planted his hands on the tiles around the shower head and allowed the water to cascade over his frozen body.

Emerging from the bathroom, Mark still felt chilled to the bone.  He eyed the doorway to his assigned room.  He wanted to climb into the bed and pull the covers over his head.  His feet felt like two blocks of ice; even the thick socks did little to warm them.  Sticking them into the roaring fire might be a possible solution, but he needed his feet thawed, not barbequed; he personally liked his feet.  Curling his toes in the thick socks told him they were not lifeless, but the thought of the toasty fire did appeal to him.  Besides, he needed to check on Molly and Sami.  Before moving, he glanced over his shoulder at his wet clothes which he had hung on the shower rod. 
They have weathered the icy dip better than me
, he thought. 

Turning into the living area, he spotted Sami who was still hugging her dog.  “How is she?” he asked.

Sami rolled her head in his direction.  “She has stopped shaking, but I am concerned about the pads of her feet,” she responded.

“I saw the spots of blood in her tracks,” Mark said, moving over to them.  “Let me see.”

Sami sat up and uncurled the blankets off Molly’s paw to allow Mark to view the pads — they were oozing small amounts of blood.  The snow, pine needles or ice, or the combination of the three, had cracked the pads. He was no vet, but he was experienced with cut paw pads from Ollie, his own dog.  During the blistering-hot, summer months, Ollie’s pads were assaulted by not only the fiery pavement, but by his frequent trips around the abrasive, cool deck of Mark’s swimming pool.  “They will heal,” Mark stated.  “For the next couple of days, we will need to cover them in plastic baggies when she goes outside to protect them from further damage.”

“Should we treat the pads?” Grandma Jo asked.

“If you like, we could put some antibiotic ointment and gauze on them to keep them clean and from dotting the floor with blood,” Mark offered.

“Yes, let’s do that.  I don’t want her to suffer unnecessarily,” Sami stated.

“I’ll get the bandages,” Grandma Jo volunteered.

“You know where they are located?” Sami asked, confused.

“We brought them with us,” she answered, darting off to the back rooms.

“Right, I forgot,” Sami replied, looking at the cast on her left arm.

“Your focus is on Molly,” Mark reassured her.

“Yes.  Where did you find her?” Sami asked, looking at him thoughtfully.  “She was soaked to the skin.”

“In the lake,” Mark answered truthfully.

“Oh, no,” Sami cried.  “If you had not gone in search of her .  .  .”

“But, I did,” Mark stated, seeing Sami shaking. “She will be fine.”

“I am a failure,” Sami cried.

“Wait!  Where did that come from?” Mark asked.

“My purpose.  My purpose is to protect her.  I failed,” she answered.  “I should not have allowed you to take her outside.”

“You gave the order, remember.  It was not my idea,” Mark defended himself.

“Not true,” Sami yelled, getting to her feet.  “You want her dead!”

“What?” he asked.  “Get real.”

“You failed to watch her.  It is your fault,” Sami screamed.  Her tone and volume level caused Molly to whimper and stir.

Mark reached out and stroked Molly.  “Sami, you are upsetting her.  Calm down,” he directed.  “If you want to pitch a fit, please wait until I have treated her feet.”

Grandma Jo returned with the bag of bandages and dropped it near Mark before backing away from the very agitated, young woman. 

“Focus on Molly.  I need your help with her feet.  Fight this urge, and get back down here, Sami,” Mark directed.

Sami’s angry eyes dropped from him to see Molly squirming under Mark’s hand.  Kneeling, she cooed softly to Molly.  “Easy, girl.”

Where is this ON/OFF switch?
Mark thought to himself.  She could switch from one personality to the other in a split second.  Seeing Molly settle back against Sami, Mark made quick work of bandaging the dog’s paws.  “Don’t chew on these,” he instructed to Molly. Gathering the supplies back into the bag, he rose.

“I am sorry,” Sami whispered.

Mark froze as he heard her.  His insides flipped.
She remembers
, he thought.  Not wanting to push his luck, he replied without looking at her.  “Apology accepted.” Looking at Grandma Jo, he asked, “Where is that promised tea?”

“Coming,” Grandma Jo answered, taking the bag of bandages out of Mark’s hand and turning towards the kitchen.  “Sit and warm up.”

Mark looked at the comfy, inviting chair, but opted to remain standing.  Turning to the fireplace, he placed his hands on the mantel and lifted his cold foot to the flames, flexing his toes. 

“Feeling returning?” Grandma Jo asked as she returned with the mug. 

“Some,” he replied, rotating his feet.  “Give me a minute.”

Holding the mug to her chest, she recalled his appearance when he returned.  “You went in after her, didn’t you?” she asked.

Nodding, Mark stated, “I had no other option. She had no traction on the ice.”

“You what?” Sami asked.

“You heard me,” Mark declared, not turning.

“Here.”  Grandma Jo offered the steaming mug. 

Mark took the mug and felt Grandma Jo move behind him.  “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Need to check your back,” she answered, pulling up his blue, sweatshirt top to expose his back.

“Ouch,” she cried softly, seeing the bloody claw marks on his back.  “Don’t move.”

“What is it?” Mark asked, not feeling anything amiss.

“You are clawed,” Grandma Jo answered, moving to the table to retrieve the bag she had placed there moments earlier.

“Oh, Mark,” Sami cried, viewing the tracks on his back.

“I am okay,” he stated, pulling down the sweatshirt.

“No, they need to be attended,” Grandma Jo said, coming back to him with the bag in her hand.  “I noticed the wet blotches on your sweatshirt when you were concentrating on Molly.  I first thought it was due to your wet hair, but when I heard you say you went into the water, I knew I needed to check.”

Wiggling his shoulders, Mark felt no discomfort. “I am fine,” he reported.  Seeing her frown, he knew he could not win this battle.  “Alright, you win.  If it will make you feel better.”  Placing the mug on the mantel, he removed his sweatshirt and presented his back to her.

“Sami, dear, could you please help me?” Grandma Jo asked.

“Sure.  Stay, Molly,” Sami directed, getting to her feet and moving over to Grandma Jo.

“It appears that Molly needs to have her nails clipped,” Grandma Jo reported, passing the bag of bandages to Sami. 

“What’s first?” Sami asked, looking into the bag. 

Grandma Jo eyed the welts on Mark’s back.  “How well did you wash your back?” she asked.

“I just let the water run down it,” Mark answered.