Forgetting Page 22

  She nodded her head. “You can call me Rosemarie, but you know it’s been a long time since someone has called me that. I’ve been wondering how you knew who I was.”

  I knew I had to tread lightly, but I had to be honest as well. “I found a letter you wrote to Beau Collins in your file. I knew from the moment I met you that you didn’t belong there. I tried contacting him, but he had passed. His son told me what he could about you.” I left out the part about searching the Biloxy Public Library archives, afraid it might be too much.

  She relaxed her hands and took a drink of her tea before laughing. “Glad to hear that son of a bitch is gone. This day just keeps getting better. So go on.”

  I laughed and shrugged my shoulders. “Rosemarie, we both know you don’t have very long. I couldn’t leave you there to die by yourself. If I can do anything in this world that makes a difference, I want to make sure you live out your last days being who you really are, and free.”

  Her eyes took on a damp sheen, but a tear did not fall. I didn’t need a thank you. She trusted me, and that was all the gratitude I needed. Our food arrived, and she did not pry into more details about the journey. In between naps, she simply looked out the window at a world that had changed a great deal over time. We stopped at a hotel just shy of the North Carolina border for the night, so she could stretch her legs and rest. I wanted it to be daylight when we arrived. After a quick breakfast, we were back on our way.

  A few hours later, we got off of the highway and took route twenty-one into Mooresville. We passed through the small town, and pulled up to the massive iron gates. She watched as I entered a code, and the gates rattled as they opened. The long gravel road caused my heart to race as we neared the property. I pulled up next to the back door, turned off the ignition, and looked at Rosemarie.

  “Were here,” I said softly.

  The moment I opened the truck door, a bundle of energy raced toward me and into my arms. “Mommy, you’re home! I missed you!” she squealed.

  I gave her a tight squeeze, and kissed her face several times before she wiggled out of my embrace and crawled into the cab of the truck.

  “Who are you? Are you the lady that’s going to live here with us?” she asked matter of fact.

  Rosemarie’s face lit up, as the dark-haired girl with big green eyes was nearly in her lap asking questions.

  “Ramona, please leave Miss Rosemarie alone and let her get out of the truck. There’s plenty of time for you to ask questions later. Go get your daddy and tell him we are here.”

  As soon as I turned around, I saw Julian walking toward me with a huge smile. He wrapped his arms around me, and I finally crumbled knowing it was okay. Ramona grew concerned and hopped down, tangling her arms around our legs.

  “Mommy don’t cry. We made cookies for you,” she said.

  I leaned down and pulled her into my arms, as Julian rubbed my back, saying, “She’s happy, baby. Everything is okay, I promise. Sometimes people cry when they are happy.”

  With Julian’s assurance, she wrestled away again and stood next to the truck door, waiting for Rosemarie to get out.

  I went to walk around, but Julian stopped me and kissed the top of my head. “You take a break. I got this,” he said.

  He circled the truck, opened the passenger side door, and introduced himself. As they walked past me, her eyebrows wagged, and I let out a slight giggle. We gathered in the kitchen, and I plopped down on the bench, exhausted, with Ramona in my lap, her head resting against my chest. Julian made a cup of tea for Rosemarie, and sat next to her as we prepared to share our plans. From the very beginning, Julian was supportive of my desire to bring her back with us, even though it meant living apart for a month. She took a bite out of one of Ramona’s signature amoeba-shaped cookies, and praised her for how delicious they were.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked while looking around the kitchen.

  Rosemarie pursed her lips, unsure of how to respond. “This is a mighty fine place you have here, doc. Your family is very nice, too. But I’m still wondering what I’m doing here.”

  I looked at Julian and smiled, before turning back. “We want you to live here with us. We want to take care of you, if that’s okay.”

  She looked at us cautiously, and took another bite of her cookie. “Seeing as I have nowhere else to go, I reckon I have no other choice,” she said with laughter. She looked at Julian and Ramona, and her face dropped slightly. “You sure this is what you want? It’s been a while, but I am sure I can help y’all around here. I used to care for some children long ago.”

  Julian shook his head. “Rosemarie, you can do whatever you want, but we do not expect anything. You can sit on the porch and read, or go down to the lake. We aren’t hiring you, you are a guest.”

  I could see the tears forming, and she fought desperately to hold them back. Knowing how proud she was, I set Ramona down and asked if she wanted to see the vineyard. She looked at me gratefully, nodded, and stood up. When we started walking slowly to the door, Ramona raced past us and into the field, then we made our way down the stone entry. Fall was coming, and the tips of the trees were a bright magenta. The vines were heavy with the last harvest, ready to be picked before the clouds rolled in and let the town rest. The air was slightly chilly, and it nipped at my bare arms, causing a shiver.

  Rosemarie sat down on the plush garden sofa, and looked out at the lake down the hill in awe. “This is something else. How on earth did I get so lucky?”

  Julian chuckled while rubbing my shoulders. “Maybe it’s because you remind her of someone she knew long ago. Maybe it’s because we all deserve to be happy,” he said.

  Rosemarie simply nodded her head and continued to take in the view. For the rest of the afternoon, she walked around the property quietly, learning where everything was and settling into her room. Feeling the quilt on the bed with her fingertips, she made a tsk sound. “This ain’t handmade. I can fix one up for you real nice. I used to make the most beautiful quilts in Savannah.”

  I pulled out a flannel night gown and slippers Julian had bought in hopes she would be with us, and placed them next to her. “Like we said, you do not owe us anything. But if it’s something that would make you happy, we can go into town and get some supplies for you.”

  She looked at the clothing and continued to feel the fabrics, assessing them with care. I knew this was a lot to take in, and only hoped she was okay. She looked up, and a rogue tear escaped, but she made no attempt to wipe it away. Since I was no longer her physician, I reached out my arms to give her a hug. She hesitated for a moment, and then allowed me to pull her close. All the emotion I kept buried, surfaced, and I allowed myself to cry.

  She broke away, patted the side of my cheek, and smiled. “You’re a good woman, doc. I hope you know that.”

  I nodded my head and left the room. Taking a deep breath, I wiped my face and went to kiss Ramona goodnight before going into the bedroom. Julian was sitting against the headboard reading, and set his book down when I walked in. He reached out his arms, so I crawled into his lap and curled against his chest.

  “Welcome home, honey.”

  Home. A place that nearly slipped from my hands. I can close my eyes and remember the feeling of the thick envelope in my purse which I discovered while searching for aspirin the day I left. Crushed by the weight of telling Julian to move on, my emotions were no longer able to hide in the numb cloud created by drugs and booze. I had to feel each and every one of them, learning to accept that they were part of living. Unsure of what was inside, I was taken off guard by the contents. As I was in the process of meeting Adie for the first time, Julian tucked it in my purse while I wasn’t looking.

  Each page sliced my heart a little more until I reached the last one, a hand written note of his own.

  The small envelope seemed insignificant compared to the true contents. The bakery, the vineyard, his mother’s house. Julian gave me everything. The color drained my face and I felt as though time
stood still. Life as I knew it no longer existed and it was more than I could comprehend. Michael and Truman shouted loudly as the invisible branch hit my chest and I sank into the fog. Struggling to breathe, I closed my eyes and wished for nothing more than to have Julian reach through and save me. But he already had.

  “We have to go back! I can’t do this!”

  Christopher ran to the cockpit as the others tried their best to calm me down.

  “Stella, what’s wrong?” Adie shouted.

  Tearfully I handed her the folded papers and watched her eyes grow wide. She passed them around and several explicit words were muttered. Christopher came back with a mournful expression.

  “Stella, we’re about to land. The pilot says we have to register for a new flight plan and it could take a few hours. It’s pretty late so it could be morning before we can take off again, I’m sorry.”

  He sat next to me and pulled me into a teddy bear grip as I gained my bearings. It would be okay. Julian would understand why I gave him back the ring. It was the same reason he gave me all that he did. My happiness meant more to him than money. For someone who lacked stability, he wanted me to rest assured there would be one constant in my life, always. Shaking my head, I knew I had to press forward.

  “No, it’s okay. I need to do this. He wants me to. It’s the only way.”

  Michael handed me back the papers and I tucked them close to my chest. I clutched them tightly as I begged my body and mind to sleep for three nights straight. Like in the dream, it was as if the world continued to operate by no effort of my doing. The sound checks, the press releases. I just showed up and smiled. No wonder it was so easy to be high all the time. As long as I did my job, no one questioned my behavior. Except this was not some induced state with a limited time frame. On the fourth night, I would be stepping onto the stage of Madison Square Gardens for the first time in over a year. Tickets sold out in less than twenty minutes and legions of loyal fans were counting on me. A few rough practice sessions and it was as though nothing had happened, it was all some bizarre dream.

  My dressing room was packed with flowers and gifts, closing in the small space even more. Surrounded by stylists and reporters, I mentally counted each breath, waiting to escape. Adie watched me wearily as did the crew, cautious I would suddenly grow cold feet and run. Placing the small plastic piece in my ear, peace washed over me and the earth returned to its previous axis. The crowds screamed my name, and I gave an inward smile as the lines between dreams and reality blurred.

  Through the darkness I made my way up the muggy stairwell and to the stage entrance. Pungent smells of old equipment and pyrotechnics curled my nose and bubbled more memories forward. Like emotions, I had to let them surface and be revered. Waiting for the signal kick drum, I braced for the spotlight to shine in my eyes as I traversed the distance to my place on stage. Roars of applause rattled my bones and the heat of the flames bursting out of the cans by my feet molded the leather pants against my legs. The air was thick and humid as thousands of bodies packed the arena.

  Foregoing an introduction, I raised my arm to signal the band to begin. We played a few fan favorites to open up and get me comfortable before digging into the new material. Muscles I forgot existed started to pull as I jumped and danced wildly, caught up in the moment. Looking out there were countless cellphones creating a galaxy of stars, and I imagined the cove. I thought I had been running away from life, when in ways I had recreated it on a different level. I was only happy when giving myself completely, and forgetting about everything else. My songs were the medicine I used to heal others and carry them through their own dark paths.

  Knowing it was time to sing the title track, I scanned the front row for my parents to make sure they were okay. I had asked Christopher to stay with them so they weren’t overwhelmed, and to my surprise they were both smiling. Piercing whistles echoed as the lights grew dark and the violins began the haunting melody. Music ran through my veins and I was about to bleed a symphony. It wouldn’t be difficult to express the depth of pain I felt when I wrote the song, as the wound was still fresh. The most beautiful things are born out of the most agonizing of places. A crucial reminder of how short and precious life really is. It was time to set myself free.

  I had nothing left at the end of the chorus. Giving everything I had, it would have to be enough. My knees began to buckle and I knew I would collapse if I didn’t get off the stage. Blowing a kiss out and giving a bow, I was stopped the moment I turned away from the microphone. Adie was bouncing in her stilettos and the crew stepped away from their instruments to surround me. Scrunching my eyes together to decipher if they were betraying me, only a few more seconds passed before I realized what was happening. Dressed in a three piece suit, Julian walked towards me trailed by a spotlight. I started shaking my head confused and enthralled at the same time. Cameras had the entire scene projected on the large screens, inciting an even louder response.

  Knowing I couldn’t hear him, he took no time reaching into his pocket and lowering to one knee. Removing the worn leather box from his pocket, he cracked the lid and raised his hand to where I could see the pen marks that were wearing off from how much his palms were sweating.

  was scrawled upon his skin. Julian reached out and grabbed my arm and placed my wrist across his heart, causing me to finally succumb to the weakness in my own knees. Not letting my hand go, he removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto my finger. I didn’t have to say yes, and he didn’t have to ask. It simply was. This was never a part of the dream, because I never allowed myself to see it. I didn’t recognize the woman on the patio as myself, because I wouldn’t allow myself to envision a future with Julian in it. Just as it only took a moment for my life to change for the worse, it only took another to reroute the direction I was headed. I wasn’t sure how the rest of the journey would go, but I knew instantly I wanted him by my side. It was always only him.

  A life with Kai was only one of several possibilities. A choice I could have made. Julian would have moved on, and as Raina taught us, the world would not fall apart as we feared. We have no way of knowing what tomorrow will hold, we only have the present to make choices that will hopefully lead us to what we consider our destiny. The key to resilience is finding a way to see love through the rubble of a broken heart and realizing it was only one vessel. You still have eyes, ears, hands and a mouth. Use them to guide you.

  From conception to completion I felt as though an army has assisted me with this project. I started it nearly two years ago, and never anticipated how it would impact my life. It would be nearly a whole novel of gratitude to those who have given me support, encouragement, and the occasional honest conversation only a true friend can, that isn’t necessarily nice but is best.

  I always thank God in the beginning, because it is by divine province that I have this gift, to use my voice in such a way I can make a difference in other’s lives. This is no exception. Thank you Father for all that you have done, are doing, and will do in my future. I know my steps are ordained.

  To my angels here on earth. I know each of you has been placed in my life at just the right time when I needed you most, in different ways, but of equal importance. A thank you will never be enough so I hope this is a nice gesture.

  Shana Shaffer-Ficks-The driving force behind this story. Life has dealt you a hand of cards no one would ever want to play, and yet you do it with such grace. You have taught me the meaning of resilience, and seeing love through the rubble of a broken heart. I hope this story makes half the difference in someone’s life as you have in mine. I love you more than I think your realize, always.

  Michael Gleason- One of my closest friends, occasional muse, and cover model. I may not always like what you tell me, but I do hear you. It’s just selective. More often than not, it’s because you are right, and you know I am stubborn. Thankfully I am learning to let others help me, and that I can achieve so much more with people like you by my side. You made me a better person, and th
at is real love.

  Tammy Hanson- Thank you for reminding me of who I really am, and never letting me forget. From the moment I met you, I knew my life would never be the same. In a world that moves so fast, I am grateful you gave me a place of focus and peace, until I was able to find that in myself. I know we will grow old together. It’s a good thing we have many years ahead of us, because it’s not over yet!

  Donna Sabino, Jodie Stipetich, Erin Knaus, and Melanie Hazard- Each one of you ladies could have your very own novel. I cannot count the number of times I have messaged you and said “guess what?” and each time you have been just as enthusiastic with the sheer insanity of the idea. You have given me hours of your life in order to help me write the best stories I possibly can, as well as giving me the strength to reshape my own. To know that you put your very hearts and souls into this community makes me humbled and proud to have you as friends, and grateful for this journey.

  Nichele Fabrizio- It is because of you I first hit the publish button, and time and time again you have pushed me past my comfort zone. Thank you for helping me to polish Forgetting and understanding how I tell a story. Now is my time to return the favor, because this is where you were meant to be.

  Rome Ntukogu- After years of building a friendship, we are embarking on a new venture of building dreams. You have supported everything I have done since day one, from the first sermon I ever preached, to the grassroots of my career as an author. You have been not just a mentor, but a rock in which I knew I could always rely on. We will do great things, I know it, and this is just the beginning.

  My editor Jennifer Sell, formatter Tami Norman at Integrity, and my graphic designer and photographer Heather McHenry at MHMPhotography. Your brilliant talents and hours of grueling work to shape this story has not gone unnoticed. You each know how important it was to me, and made sure to give it your best as well. I just write the words, you help me make them into a masterpiece I will treasure forever.