The Double Rose (8 page)

Chapter 7

The Last Goodbye

Independence, Missouri

Friday, 6 July

Marie placed a pen inside her journal, then tossed it aside to answer the phone. “Hi, Maman.” She hesitated midway from reclining when she heard the faint sound of sobs and sprang back up. Reluctantly she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I have sad news, my dear.” Sophie sniffled.

Marie could not breathe. Dropping sideways, she fell into the center of the bed. Her chest tightened, and her hands grew weak. She could not bear to hear another word.

“His time came. He has left us.”

“Josh! No! I can’t believe Josh is dead!” The tears she had held back—kept bottled up, protected, throughout this entire ordeal, burst like a dam.

“No, Marie! No,” Sophie interjected. “It’s not Josh. It is Golden Wings.”

Marie’s profound grief was as abruptly relieved as it had commenced, though she still felt saddened by the news. She grabbed the tissue box from off the night table to sop up the tears drowning her flushed cheeks.

“I hired the neighbor’s boy to feed him and clean his stall every day. He is just fifteen, but is exceptionally responsible. He loves horses, and he gave Golden Wings a lot of attention. The poor kid found him this morning. He ran to the house, fighting back tears. We are all heartbroken.

“Listen to me carefully. I do not want Anne to hear the news over the phone. Tell her that I called and invited you three girls over to the house for lunch. When you get here, Papa and I will tell her and then give her time to say her last goodbye. It is important for her to have a healthy closure.”

“Okay, we will be there in an hour. I need to wash my face and take a few minutes to compose myself, or she will suspect something is wrong. Have you heard any news about Josh?”

“I spoke to Meg three times yesterday. I guess it was about nine in the evening the last time we talked. She said Josh had a rough day. They had to resuscitate him. He was gone for about three minutes. I am sorry to say it, but he is in serious condition.”

Marie hung up the phone, went into the bathroom, and tossed an arm full of wet tissues into the wastebasket. She walked to the sink, turned the faucet on hard, then let warm steam rise on her face. After splashing some water on herself and drying off with a soft, plush towel, she entered her closet.

Turning in a circle, she eyeballed her wardrobe.
I own so many beautiful things
. Three days ago, her wardrobe had been important to her, but the powerful force of the circumstances over those days shifted her priorities.

Golden Wings death is going to break Anne’s heart!

There was no question that Marie loved Anne and Eliza as much as her birth sisters. She wished there was a way she could bear the pain for her.

In order to prevent Anne from slipping into the stable, Marie insisted on having a turn driving and parked on the semicircle driveway in front of the unique house.

Their parents were waiting in the foyer when they passed through the front door. Not a word was spoken. The instant Anne saw the pain in her parents’ eyes, she knew Golden Wings had passed. Her knees gave way as she let out a gasp and exploded in tears. The sisters immediately wrapped their arms around Anne in an effort to comfort her. They helped her onto the sectional sofa in the family room where she collapsed under the weight of grief. She was inconsolable.

“Chérie, I know it hurts now, but you are so strong,” Sophie tenderly said. “You are going to be okay.”

“I will never be okay,” came an echo from her past.

* * *

“Look at me, Anne.”

Anne tried to focus on Sophie’s face through the pools in her deep brown eyes. Though she knew her mother loved her, she also felt sure that no one in the world could understand the depth of the heartbreak she felt.

“I am your mother and I know you better than anyone else. You are an exceptional woman. You are intelligent, beautiful, and talented in many ways. With the help of the Lord, you will have the strength and courage to get through this.”

Sophie’s warm eyes and soft words were consoling enough to take the edge off her heartbreak.

Eliza handed her a soft throw pillow, which Anne quickly wrapped her arms around as she had done for comfort as a child. Her long blonde hair covered her tear-stained face as she curled up against Eliza.

“The love that you and Golden Wings shared was special.” Sophie tried to console Anne. “It still is special. He lives in paradise now, but that does not undo all the healing that came into your life through him. The best memorial that you can give to Golden Wings is to magnify all the good that was achieved through your relationship with him. Listen to me; you are going to be okay!” Sophie kissed her forehead.

Anne rallied the strength to respond. “I am ready to see him now.”

Christophe and Sophie accompanied their daughter to the stable. Sophie rubbed her back as Anne stroked her horse’s beautiful golden mane. After her tears faded, they left her alone to have some private time for reflection and closure.

* * *

Eliza and Marie were waiting for their parents to return in the kitchen as they drank cups of chamomile tea.

“How is she?” The pair pounced on their parents when they returned to the house.

“She will be fine.” Christophe stood by the back door where his view of the stable was clear. “The timing for her Plaza studio was perfect. Preparing her studio will keep her mind focused on positive things and the future.” Christophe went back outside and pretended to be busy not too far from the stable, listening for Anne.

“She called me yesterday to tell me Aaron Ryan had asked her out.” Sophie set out a plate of tea biscuits. “He had planned on taking her out tonight, but their date had to be postponed on account of Josh. Who knows when she will be up to it now after her loss, but I do think they make a good match.” Sophie joined the sisters around the kitchen table. Eliza poured tea into a cup and placed it in front of her mother.

“Maman, I was thinking about going with you and Papa to Paris next week,” Marie nonchalantly announced in an attempt to minimize the request.

“You want to attend The International Harp Competition of the Cité des Arts de Paris?”

“Well, no. I actually want to do a little research.” Marie dipped an anisette biscuit into her cup of tea. A big bite of the soggy cookie splattered little drops of tea on the tabletop.

Eliza frowned, and then moved the plate of biscuits away from her sloppy sister, and handed her a cloth napkin, then picked up their empty sandwich plates and carried them to the sink.

“Research?” The tone in Sophie's voice sounded suspicious, revealing that Marie's nonchalant moves were not as smooth as she had hoped they would be.

Marie wiped up the tea and grabbed another biscuit before Eliza got away with them. “I want to find that country estate Zoe took me to. I can’t explain it, but I know there is something there for me.”

Sophie quietly sipped her tea. “My mother took me to a library a couple of times when I was a child. I don't remember it very well though. It was in an old house in the country. Some of Grandmother Marie’s books were there. Perhaps that is your destination.” Sophie's expression turned, and she confronted Marie with a serious expression. “Do you remember your promise to Germaine Gest?”

Marie sensed it was an opportune time to help Eliza clean up. She stood and headed for the dishwasher. “Yes, but I had hoped you would not. With everything that is going on, I really don’t think this is the ideal time to play for Madame Gest. I am sure she will understand.” While placing the dishes Eliza had rinsed off into the bottom rack of the dishwasher, Marie wished her mother would ease off on the polite promise she had made over two years ago.

“I am sure Germaine would understand, too, but that is not the point. Your word is your reputation, my dear. You promised that the next time you came to Paris, you would play on her Louis XV. You will have to keep your promise, especially since she has already asked if you will be with us this year. I told her no, of course, so I will explain your plans have changed. Nearly everyone from the international harp community will be in Paris and consequently at Germaine’s social event. It is a black-tie affair, so pack a gown. What will you perform?”

With Madame Gest and her mother teamed up, Marie had no hope of getting off the hook with her promise. She conceded with a sigh. “I don’t know. How does Handel’s
Concerto in B Flat Major
sound to you?”

“It sounds worthy of a Louis XV. This will be healthy for you. For the past several months, your focus has been exclusively on your art exhibit and your harp has been neglected. Never forget that the harp heals your soul, Marie. We leave for Paris in one week. That gives you a little time to practice and rest your mind.”

Chapter 8

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Kansas City, Missouri

Sunday, 8 July

Marie pulled her car into a parking space for visitors at Truman Medical Center. Her mother’s words echoed endlessly through her mind,
“He lives! Marie, he lives!”

Josh regained consciousness sometime around sunset yesterday. He was making a miraculous recovery for a man who almost died, technically was dead for three minutes and lingered in a coma for three days.

Marie spent the entire morning contemplating a gift for a hero who drove her to the brink of insanity at the first sight of him. She decided a plant would be safe. It expressed gratitude but did not suggest intimacy. It was attractive, but not too feminine for a guy she considered hyper-masculine. It also felt right to bring him something alive.

The elevator door opened.
Where is his room?
Past the nurses’ station, past rooms 300, 308, 314 . . .
Hmm, here it is, room 317
. She took a deep breath, then stepped into Josh’s room. Indefinable emotions created static in her mind as she saw him reclined in bed while a nurse checked his blood pressure.

“Hi,” Josh said.

It was obvious that he was both shocked and pleased to see her. Although large bandages were wrapped around his naked chest, the only thing he was hooked up to was an IV. His color, alertness, and energy appeared normal. How was that possible?

“Hi, I brought you a plant.” She approached the side of his bed and placed the flourishing Boston fern dressed with a large white floral ribbon on the bedside table.

He had been assigned a comfortable but small private room with hideous orange and green plaid wallpaper, barely tolerable for Marie’s artistic sensitivities.

Josh attempted to sit up, but the no-nonsense male nurse restrained him. “Thanks. Are you okay? I have been concerned about you.”

“Am I okay? I was not the one who got shot. We are all glad you are still alive. I guess it takes more than a bullet to keep a tough guy like you down.” Marie embellished her remark with her classic wink. She leaned over and kissed Josh on the cheek in spite of the stubble that had conquered his face.

“Your blood pressure and pulse are normal, Mr. Ryan.” The nurse walked out of the room, leaving Marie and Josh alone for the first time in five years.

“I have never been more alive.”

Marie perceived the intense longing in his eyes.

She stood beside his bed feeling anguish rise from within. “You saved my life.” An unconscious impulse caused her to reach out and gently touch the area of his wound. Her hand was drawn to the bandage over his bare, muscular chest as if it were magnetized, pulling her toward it. “A huge scar will be a constant reminder to you of the sacrifice you made for me.” A single tear trickled over her cheek.

* * *

The best medicine he could have hoped for was the sight of her in a tangerine summer dress with her wind-blown hair.

Her touch fueled the courage he had been building up. Looking deep into the temptation of her gorgeous hazel-green eyes, Josh put his hand over hers and pressed firmly against his bandaged chest. “It was my choice.”

Marie pulled back, removing her hand from his powerful clasp as fast as possible. “Why did you do it?”

“Because I love you. I have always loved you.” The confession of his love was liberating, but he could see in her eyes how distant she was from him.

* * *

His declaration astonished Marie. “I'm sorry. I'm grateful for your heroism, but I cannot reciprocate your feelings. I mean, seriously, I don’t understand them.” She fussed over her hair, trying to slip a couple of stray auburn strands into a hair clip in order to keep busy.

“I know we were forced to spend a lot of time together when we were kids because our parents are best friends, but we have never even been on a date. Up until a few weeks ago, we had not seen each other in years. Not to mention the fact that, in spite of your amazing act of bravery at the Events Center, you did a lot of cruel things to me when we were kids.” Marie had not planned on confronting Josh with their past. She was losing control of the situation, something she rarely did.

“Like what?” His direct question forced her to open up.

“What do you mean by
like what
? At the top of the list would be the time I caught you reading my diary when you were pretending to be catching your dog. And the time you recorded me telling Eliza I thought Johnny had beautiful blue eyes, and then you humiliated me by playing it over the camp intercom. Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me?”

The confession of the feelings she had nurtured made her ill. As she recited Josh’s crimes against her childhood, they sounded trivial, yet they had originally provoked strong animosity in her heart. Slowly she stepped away from his bed and walked toward a small sink six feet away.

“Sugar did accidentally get loose in your house,” Josh calmly responded with no trace of defensiveness. “She was a rambunctious puppy at the time. After an exhausting search, I found her in your bedroom with a book in her mouth. I was in the process of examining the condition of the book when you walked in.” He softly sighed as if he were trying to offer an apology more than an explanation. “I did not even realize it was your diary until you started to freak out about it.”

Marie filled a cup to the top with water while she listened to the silence in Josh’s pause, then turned and slowly returned to the night table where she had placed her gift.

“As far as the camping incident goes . . . you girls never learned how to whisper.” Josh watched Marie move around the room. “The boys were always overhearing what you girls were saying, and yes, some of the boys did deliberately spy, but I was not one of them.”

Fortunately, it did not take long to pour out a paper cup of water. Formulating a strategy, she deduced she could easily maneuver slipping away from him three, possibly four times. She turned to make her second trek to the sink.

“On that particular day, about a dozen boys from my group were playing football outside the girls’ cabin. Your window was open, and the girls were loud. Everyone heard what was said. I don't know who recorded your conversation, but I cannot imagine it could have been any of the guys from my cabin because we were all outside . . .” Josh sighed. “A rumor got started that I did it, probably because everyone knew I was crazy over you.”

Josh and Marie possessed different styles of communication. Josh looked directly into Marie’s eyes when he spoke to her. Every time he did this, she felt as if he were reaching into her soul, which only served to produce a desire in her to bolt to the nearest exit. Marie knew if she watered the plant slow enough, she could avoid eye contact with Josh for at least ten minutes.

“The truth is even then I was jealous for you. I wanted your affection to belong to me, not Johnny or any other guy.” Her attempt to escape on a third trek to the sink was sabotaged when Josh gently latched hold of her arm. “Marie, when those things happened, I tried to tell you the truth, but you would not listen to me. You pushed me away. And, for the record, you may not have seen me in years, but I have seen you. I knew you were avoiding me, so I kept my distance at our parents’ gigs.”

The strength of his hand securing her arm proved his determination and forced the denial angle out of her mind. She was going to have to deal with him—like it or not–however unprepared she was to do so. She ran her loose hand along the back of her neck. “I believe you now.” A strange timidity took over her tongue. “I am sorry for the misunderstanding. Anyway, this is a crazy conversation. It all happened so long ago. None of it matters anymore.” She was torn between desperately wanting to pull her arm away from him and not wanting to offend the man to whom she owed her life.

“It mattered enough for you to bring it up. Feelings buried alive never die, Marie. They fester until they overrun and destroy their host.” He moved closer to her as he continued to hold her arm, preventing her from escaping to the sink.

“I know, Josh. I know what you are saying is true. I grew up hearing the same lectures you did. I am very sorry.” She managed to maneuver her arm free by straightening his heavy cotton blankets, and then she proceeded to tuck in the covers at the end of the cold metal bed, out of arm’s reach.

She hesitated but then decided to embellish her response. “There are more reasons for how I feel though.” Several seconds of silence passed as she struggled to find the perfect words. “On my twelfth birthday, I had the first of a recurring dream that includes a man with a tattoo of two blooming red roses, attached to a single stem, on his right arm below the shoulder.” Somehow she managed to muster the courage to look directly at Josh, adopting his habit. “I have always known beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the man I’d marry which is why I have never had a boyfriend—I have not met him yet. It has been hard, Josh. It genuinely has been. But I have seen the disaster from a mismatched marriage with my sister Geneviéve. I'm not going to let that happen to me.”

Marie made motions with her hands as she often did when she was excited. “You are lying there bare-chested.” She motioned toward his right arm. “It is as plain as day that you do not have that tattoo or any tattoo. I'm sorry.”

Josh pulled off the blanket, slid his legs over the side of the bed, and took hold of his IV stand. “I will get out of this bed right now and go to the nearest tattoo parlor and get one if it will motivate you to finally give me a chance.”

He spoke with intense firmness, yet Marie reacted by laughing as if he were joking.

“I am serious, Marie.”

Josh slowly got out of bed, then cautiously walked toward her. She felt like prey trapped in a lion’s den. He came intimately close to her as he continued to look deep into her eyes. “Did you ever consider that maybe the tattoo is not meant to be taken literally? Maybe it is symbolic? Maybe I am the man?”

Marie took two steps backward, then plopped into an ugly, mustard-colored vinyl chair that strikingly clashed with the obscene wallpaper. “No, I have never considered the tattoo to be symbolic. I believe he is a real man. A man I have not met yet.”

* * *

Josh sat in the matching adjacent chair still penetrating her sparkling, hazel eyes. He tried to connect to her, hoping to find the place in her heart that would ignite her passion. He realized he had exhausted his power of persuasion to no avail, but was determined to make one final effort. Indulged in the intimacy of whispering, he gently said, “Marie, please at least consider the possibility that I could be that man.” His emotional pain was more intense than the wound under his bandages.

* * *

He moved intimately close to her. She could feel his breath press her lips. “Josh . . . I’m sorry,” she stammered, then paused before continuing. “I never encouraged you to feel anything for me.” They were truthful words—she hadn’t. Marie stood up. “I have to go. With all my heart, I hope your recovery continues to go exceptionally well. I'm sincerely flattered by the confession of your feelings for me. I hope you can understand that I need to wait for the man in my dream. He is the man I am destined to marry.”

Josh shook his head, refusing to concede. She leaned over and kissed his prickly cheek. “Goodbye.”