Bouquet: Sequel to 'In Full Bloom': The Trilogy of the Rose (Volume 3) (6 page)

Mark caught the present tense of her words.
Interesting
, he thought, catching Grandma Jo’s confused expression.

“Sami, who takes care of this for you?” he asked.

Sami narrowed her eyes.  “Your meaning?” she questioned.

“This cabin.  The financing of running this place,” Mark added.

“Gus takes care of the physical cabin.  His homestead is about three miles further down the road. He is a patient of my father and we pay him for the upkeep,” she answered.

“Pay him?” Grandma Jo asked.

“My attorney takes care of all of it,” she answered blankly.

Mark’s interest was caught.  “Attorney?” he questioned, seeing Sami move back to her place before the fireplace and pick up the afghan.  “Attorney?” Mark asked again, following her and sitting down in the comfy chair he refused earlier.

“Steven Miller,” Sami stated.

“Continue,” Mark directed.

Sami stared into the fire as she spoke.  “I stopped by his office on my way home from Dr. Peterson’s office on that last day.  He is my father’s attorney.”

Mark now understood just how important that day was to her.  Not only had she cut herself loose from Jon, she had cut all ties to the outside world.  Looking at the afghan she clung to, he thought,
Stick with me, kid; we will unravel the knots in your soul.
 

***

FIVE

M
ark mentally noted the attorney’s name, Steven Miller.  He would need to see if Mr. Miller would be willing to share some insight into Sami’s past.  Client confidentiality would come into play, but he hoped Sami would grant the attorney permission to speak candidly to him.  But, this was not the time to bring it up.  Seeing her focus on the burning logs and absently petting Molly, who had camped next to her on the floor, Mark scanned the room.  The absence of an entertainment unit did not surprise him. 
It was a cabin
, he thought. 
No radio, no television.  What did they do to occupy their time
, he wondered, spotting Grandma Jo who had picked up her knitting needles.

He pondered the idea of starting Sami’s treatment plan, but realized that he didn’t have what he needed, namely her journals and David.  Treatment would need to be placed on hold for today.  Remembering the cedar chest with items from Rosemarie’s life located a short distance away, he considered starting with it.  He had already deduced that her recovery would be based on touching every single item held within the six cedar chests she owned, but right now the thought of placing her in that emotional ride made him frown. 

They had plenty of time; he didn’t need to rush it. He wanted to bring back the girl he had spoken to in the bathroom — to hear more about her life that didn’t involve the things hidden in the cedar chests.  He needed a distraction for her mind . . . like working on his sore back. 
But, what?
he wondered. 
What did she like to do besides cleaning and painting?
  He had no clue.

‘
Ask her
,’ Pat’s voice offered.

Smiling, Mark nodded.  “Sami?  What do you do for fun?” he asked.

Slowly, Sami brought her eyes to him, but they remained unfocused.  “Fun?” she responded.

“Yes,” he replied.  “How do you occupy your time?  I see no TV or radio.”

“I paint.”

“I don’t mean at your home in the valley, I mean here in the cabin.  You shared that you would sit with your father on the porch, but what did you do during the winter?”

A slow smile appeared on her face.  “We would bake, play games, do puzzles, read.  .  .,” her voice faded.

“Games?” Mark questioned.

“Yes,” Sami replied.  “Card games, board games.”

“Where are they?” Mark asked, getting to his feet.

“You want to play a game?” Sami asked, dazed.

“Sure,” Mark stated.  “Games, popcorn.  Great way to spend a snowy afternoon.”

“You don’t want to just talk?” she asked, confused.

“Nah, we have plenty of time for talking later. Now, where are those games?  Bet I can win any game you throw at me,” he boasted. 

“I doubt it,” Sami challenged, looking up at him.

“I accept your challenge,” Mark said, holding out his hand to assist her to her feet.

“They are my games and my rules,” she smiled, taking his hand.

“We will see,” Mark replied.  “Want to make a wager?”

On her feet, Sami squared her shoulders and asked, “What type of wager?  Money?”

“No, let’s make it more personal,” he offered, looking at her intently.

“Dr.  Stevens!” Sami exclaimed, taken back.

Mark chuckled.  “It is Mark, and you have a dirty mind,” he responded. 

Sami blushed under his gaze.  “I do not,” she countered.

“Right, I will remember that,” Mark stated, smiling.  “What I had in mind was wagering on your treatment.”

“In what way?” Sami asked, curious.

“When I win . . .,  “ Mark began.

“That is, if you win,” Sami interrupted. 

“Okay,” Mark agreed.  “If I win, you will readily cooperate in every aspect of my treatment plan for you. No questions asked.”

Sami pressed her lips together tightly and glared at him without responding.

Witnessing her concentration, Mark winked at her and added, “Remember, you don’t have a dirty mind.”

Sami’s features softened as a soft laugh escaped her.  “And, when I win?” she asked.

“Not going to happen,” Mark announced.

“Come on,” Sami directed.  “What are you offering?  No treatment program.  You will exit my life and allow me to .  .  .  “

“Finish it, Sami,” Mark ordered, watching her closely and wanting her to voice her thoughts.

Sami remained silent as she debated her options of words.  Observing the unfocused look in her eyes, Mark clearly saw she was having trouble deciding on what she would say.  The doctor in him was thrilled at the sight of her hesitation; it meant part of her knew she needed his help.  She was displaying a willingness to let down her guard.  However, the first step in the process was admitting the need, and she had yet to cross that point. His admittance into her life was due to her ‘watchdog’,
not
her belief that she needed help. 
Come on, Sami
, he silently pleaded.

Sami’s eyes focused on him.  “I am waiting,” she stated.

Puzzled, Mark asked, “What?”

“What is in it for me?” she questioned.

Wow.  Total avoidance.  I didn’t see that coming
, Mark thought, keeping his face frozen in a smile to cover his thoughts.  “I’ll allow you a ‘catch word’,” he answered.

“Catch word?” Sami asked, tilting her head.

“Yes.  A word that will tell me you wish for me to back off,” Mark offered.

“What word?” she inquired.

“Any word you like,” he responded.

“So, when I win, this magic word will allow me to tell you I’ve had enough?” Sami stated, seeking affirmation.

“No, it is not a ‘get out of jail free’ card,” Mark replied.  “It is a word which tells me you are not ready to open that door yet.”

“That doesn’t seem to be a very good prize for winning,” she stated.

“You are wrong there,” Mark stated knowingly. “This is a onetime offer.”

Sami saw Mark’s intense gaze.  “Just what type of plan do you have in mind?” she asked.

“One that should motivate you to win this ‘catch word’,” he responded.

“That sounds ominous,” she retorted.

“It is not a threat; it is a fact.”

Seeing his set features, Sami offered her right hand to him.  “Well, Dr.  Stevens, you have yourself a deal,” she confirmed.

“Hot damn,” Mark cried, taking her hand and shaking it.  “It is Mark.”

Shaking her head, Sami replied, “Not for the duration of the games.  I am in it to win, loser.”

“Loser?” Mark questioned.

“Yep, that is my ‘catch word’.  Get used to it,” Sami stated, releasing his hand and skirting around him.  “To the table.”

Mark smiled as he caught Grandma Jo’s look at him.  “Popcorn?” he requested.

“Right away,” she replied, placing aside her needles and getting to her feet.  “Want fudge, too?”

Mark looked over at Sami and saw the Scrabble board being placed on the table.  “Yes, fudge, also.  Looks like I will need brain food.  Let the game begin,” he shouted. 

***

Settling into the game, Mark realized by the third round that his offhanded bet had backfired on him.  His attempt to engage her in conversation failed as she ordered him to remain silent so she could concentrate on winning.  She was taking the game very serious.  Mark was tempted to tell her that he had already won — not the game, but her acceptance of his treatment.  His plan was to allow her to win.  Providing her with a false sense of control was his goal.  With that goal reached, he was ready to move on.  The moving on would have to wait until this game was completed.  Smiling, he sat back against the hardwood rail of the chair’s back and immediately groaned loudly as his face took on a painful grimace.

“What is it?’ Sami asked.  “Are you deliberately distracting me?”

“No, ma’am,” Mark uttered softly.  “My back.  I forgot.”

“Me, too,” she acknowledged, getting to her feet and racing to the couch for a throw pillow.  Returning with the pillow, she gently positioned it between his back and the hard chair.  “Better?”