Hummingbird Lake (28 page)

What she did have to do was stop crying. Tears got her nowhere. Hadn’t she learned that lesson? Using the corner of her damp towel, she wiped the wetness from her cheeks and used an old trick to shore up her defenses by summoning up an image of her father.
Soldier on, Rosemary
.

“Okay, then. I will. I’m going to look forward, move beyond, and make a new life for myself and fill it with people I like. People who like me. Sage simply won’t be part of it, and that is her loss. Soldier on, Rosemary.”

Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? It’d be a minor miracle if, once she got to her room, she didn’t throw herself across her bed and sob into her pillow.

The room she’d been assigned at check-in was in one of the new dormitory-style buildings constructed on the estate within the past year. The shortest path from the hot springs to her room took her past a garden gazebo with a wooden swing suspended from its ceiling. As she approached, Celeste Blessing’s voice floated out from the evening shadows. “There you are, Rose. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Rose stifled a sigh. She should have expected this. She’d blabbed the entire sad story to Celeste earlier. Something about the woman invited the sharing of confidences. However, Rose didn’t want to spill her guts again tonight. She’d make an excuse and keep on walking.

Even as Rose opened her mouth to beg off, Celeste said, “Please, join me.”

Despite other intentions, Rose found herself veering toward the gazebo. When Celeste patted the swing beside her, she took the direction and sat beside the older woman.

Celeste smiled kindly. “It didn’t go well, did it?”

“It’s fair to say that’s an understatement.” Rose gave a brief synopsis of the events.

“I’m sorry, dear.”

Rose’s mouth twisted in a sad smile. “Me too. She surprised me, Celeste. I knew how mad she was at me over the whole mess when our dad had his stroke, but I didn’t think she’d ignore the fact that I’ve been a cancer patient.”

“I am certain she didn’t ignore it. I suspect she’s running away from it. That’s what you need to understand, Rose. Your sister is in retreat.”

“Retreat from what?”

“Pain. Despair. A winter of the soul so immense and so desperate that even someone as bright as your sister couldn’t stand against it. So she retreated. She’s managed to slow down the pace of it here in Eternity Springs, but she hasn’t been able to plant her feet and fight.”

“I don’t understand. What has she told you?”

Her sneaker-clad foot against the ground, Celeste gave the swing a push. “While I never, ever betray a confidence, I can tell you that Sage is unusually quiet about her life prior to her arrival in Eternity Springs. What I know is from my own observation of your sister and her activities.”

Rose remained silent for a long moment before saying, “I don’t know. I don’t guess it really matters. I gave it the good old college try, but I got nowhere and I’m done. I’ve had enough. I’m checking out, Celeste. Tonight.”

“Oh, Rose. Running away is no solution.”

“Isn’t it? It seems to have worked for Sage.” Celeste chastised her with a look, and Rose shrugged. “It’s not running away. Not really. I need a new beginning. I need to figure out what that beginning should be.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“I’m a physician and I’m good at it. Unlike someone else we know, I have no intention of leaving that behind.”

“Of course not.”

Rose stood up and began to pace the gazebo’s confines. “I may not have had the manual dexterity to be a surgeon, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a good doctor. My instincts are excellent, my diagnostic skills superb. I am caring and compassionate and my patients trust me and trust in me. Medicine is more than just surgeons. My father always said I was born to be a doctor, and he was right. Dad almost always was right.”

“Almost?” Celeste asked quietly.

“He was a strong, disciplined man with exceedingly high expectations. He challenged us to be our best and drove us to achieve. The worst thing in the world was to let our father down. If I left medicine, too, why, he’d turn over in his grave or come back to haunt me.”

She whipped her head around and met Celeste’s gaze. “Maybe that’s Sage’s problem. Maybe Dad is haunting her.”

“While I am certain that the true reality of existence is beyond the human mind’s comprehension, I doubt that it is in God’s plan for a father to literally haunt his daughter over something as trivial as career decisions.”

“Trivial!”

“What you do isn’t as important as who you are.”

“But being a doctor is what I am. It’s who Sage is, too.”

“Is it really?” Celeste gave the swing a push with her foot. “So, medicine was always your dream? When you were young, you and Sage both dreamed of being a doctor?”

The questions made Rose pause. She sat back down beside Celeste. “No, Sage wanted to be a painter.”

“What did you want to be?”

Following a long pause, Rose said, “A writer.”

“A writer!” Celeste exclaimed with delight. “What did you dream of writing?”

“Fiction. When I was young, I made up stories in my mind as I went to sleep at night.”

“How fun. You must have such a creative mind. What type of fiction did you want to write? Do you still plot stories as you drift off to sleep?”

“I wanted to write mysteries—I loved Lilian Jackson Braun’s cat books, but I haven’t made up stories for a long time.”

“Why not?”

Rose shrugged. “Medicine took over my thoughts. First med school and the army and then the job itself. I usually fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.”

“And now? You’re not working now.”

“No.” Rose exhaled a heavy sigh. “Since the diagnosis, that drifting-off time tends to be my worry moments.”

“I see.” Celeste patted Rose’s knee. “Would you do me a favor? Would you walk with me back to the house? I have something I’d like to show you.”

Rose hesitated. She should get packed and on the road. She wouldn’t like tackling Sinner’s Prayer Pass in the dark as it was. The thought of driving it while tired left her even more uneasy.

As if reading her mind, Celeste stood, saying, “This won’t take long. Trust me. This is something you absolutely must see before you leave Eternity Springs.”

Rose found it impossible to deny Celeste. “In that case, lead on.”

The fragrance of roses swirled on the cool mountain air as they walked through the garden toward the Victorian mansion that was the heart of the Angel’s Rest center.
As Rose followed Celeste along the pavé stone path, she guarded against allowing her thoughts to drift toward Sage and instead focused on her immediate future. She’d call and book a room in Gunnison before leaving Angel’s Rest. Since it wasn’t quite high season in the mountains yet, she shouldn’t have a problem finding a place to stay, but she’d rather not have that worry as she made the drive.

Celeste greeted the front desk clerk as they walked inside and asked how the teenager’s grandmother was feeling following her recent gallbladder surgery. When that brief discussion ended, Rose said, “I’m in Aspen room seven, and I’ll be checking out in a few minutes. Would you please get my bill ready?”

“Sure will.”

Rose began dragging her feet as they approached the stairs she’d climbed earlier on her way to the Patchwork Angels workroom. She didn’t think her sister would have returned to her quilt group, but … “Is the quilt meeting over?”

“Yes, it is. However, what I want to show you isn’t in the workroom. It’s a special little place I’ve prepared on the other side of the attic. Come along, dear.”

Rose was relieved to know she wouldn’t be running into Angels in this attic, but she wondered what in the world Celeste had up here that she thought Rose needed to see. When Celeste paused in front of a door and fished a set of keys from her pocket, Rose sneaked a quick look at her watch. If she could finish up here at Cavanaugh House in the next twenty minutes, take ten to pack her suitcase and get out of her room, she shouldn’t be too late getting to Gunnison.

“Now, dear, before we step inside, I want you to promise me that you will keep an open mind for the next few minutes. Will you do that for me, please?”

Rose smiled indulgently. “I’ll try.”

Celeste swung the door open, flipped on a light switch, and motioned Rose inside. “This is our garret suite. It’s been designed with creative souls—writers in particular—in mind. Since it’s dark outside, you can’t enjoy the view, but it’s one of the loveliest pictures of snowcapped peaks in town. The furnishings are all prizes original to the house. Well, except for the computer, of course. I have a desktop set up here and we’re equipped with Wi-Fi.”

She opened a cabinet that revealed an entire modern workstation. “However, it’s my opinion that the best seat in the house is the window seat. You’ll note the convenient electrical outlet. A writer will be able to sit in the window nook all day long and write to her heart’s content on a laptop. If writing longhand is more her style—I understand some writers do that still—we designed lighting just for that, too.”

She gestured toward the nifty little adjustable wall lamp, then added, “Can’t you feel the creative energy buzzing in this room?”

To Rose’s surprise, she could feel it, and she felt herself responding to it at the same time her defenses rose. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why Celeste had brought her here. “It’s a wonderful room, but honestly, you don’t think I’m going to hole up here and take a shot at writing?”

“Why not?”

“Well, because.”

Celeste grinned. “Now there’s a strong argument. I want you to notice that tucked away out of sight of the work area, but handy, too, is the sleeping area and a kitchenette. This suite is the only one in Cavanaugh House itself to have this feature. I had a friend who wrote novels, and he would shut himself up and not leave his apartment for days on end. I thought it was important
for our garret suite occupant to be able to nourish not only her creativity but also her body. Rosemary, you could stay here and work on a book and no one would have to know.”

Interest fluttered to life inside her, and Rose couldn’t help but take another look around the room. What if …

“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It was a childhood dream. A childish idea. Even if I wanted to give this a try, what do I know about writing?”

“You are a medical school graduate. I am certain you know how to do research. I don’t doubt you can construct a strong sentence. Can you tell a good story? I don’t know. Based on what you’ve said, I imagine you don’t know, either. What I do know is that you won’t know the answer until you try.”

Rose stepped farther into the room. She did have her laptop with her. Maybe, just maybe, she had the threads of a medical thriller in the back of her mind. But she also had the echo of her father’s voice.

You are a physician, Rosemary. You have been given a fine mind and the opportunity to excel. It is your duty to honor those gifts in service to others. You are a healer
.

“I need to find another job.”

“Pardon my asking, but is that due to financial concerns?” Celeste said.

No. Rose had always been a saver and she had a nice little nest egg built up. “It’s because working is what I do.”

“I see.” Celeste tilted her head and asked, “When was your last vacation?”

“I haven’t taken a real vacation in years.”

“Then now is your chance.”

A vacation? Well, a vacation was different. What would it hurt to take a little time away from reality? Away from expectations?

“Listen to this.” Celeste twisted the latch on the windows and threw them open wide. The bubbling rush of Angel Creek drifted up to her like a song. “Isn’t it lovely? The topography amplifies the sound. I adore the sound of a bubbling creek. That’s what I listen to as I’m drifting off to sleep during these warmer months.”

She patted the cushioned window seat. “Come here, my dear. Sit for a spell and listen to the night. It’s so peaceful and, in its own way, healing.”

Rose knew if she sat down, she probably was toast. The window seat looked like the perfect place to sit, to dream, to escape. It tempted her like chocolate brownies fresh from the oven.

What if she gave it a try? What would it hurt? She had nowhere else she needed to be. Nowhere else she wanted to be, to be honest. Maybe she’d hate it. Perhaps she would be lousy at it. It might be nice to give it a shot, and nobody would ever need to know. Medicine would be there waiting for her, just like always.

Celeste fussed with the fold on the filmy white lace window curtain. “We have another resident in town who is dabbling with a book. Gabe Callahan. He’s a happy man now with a new wife and twin baby girls, but he’s had a difficult time of it in his past. He says that he finds writing therapeutic.”

“I could write a novel and name the villainess Sage,” she grumbled.

“Now, Rose,” Celeste chided. Then, in a more encouraging tone, she added, “Don’t give up on your sister. She has been wounded and needs time to heal.”

“I’ve been wounded, too,” she responded. She felt a
bit embarrassed by her petulant tone, but still—she’d had the Big C.

“Yes, you have,” Celeste said. “I am not discounting that at all. It’s part of you, and as such, part of your relationship with Sage. As a physician, you know that not all injuries are physical, that some injuries take longer to heal than others, and that injured people heal at different rates.”

“True, and some injuries never heal. Despite our efforts, some injuries kill.”

“Absolutely. But if you’ll look deep inside yourself, you’ll recognize that in this case, the patient isn’t dead yet.”

The patient being her relationship with her sister, Rose understood. “Maybe not, but it’s on life support.”

“You’ve already pulled the plug on one family member. Are you honestly prepared to do it again?”

“Ouch.”

“Sage is your sister. You are her sister. Each of you needs to forgive the other. True forgiveness can be difficult to achieve, but the reward is immense. Stay with us for a little while, Rose. Indulge your muse. Give yourself and your sister the time to find forgiveness.”