Cocoon (25 page)

Finally, she was alone again.

From her bed, she looked out the window into space. Then when she heard someone enter her room, she quickly slid her eyes shut. But curious, she cracked an eye and peeked. The man looked familiar. It was Bud Carter, from church. She closed her eyes again, not moving a muscle. He took a seat and sat there for a long, long time while she pretended to be asleep.

Then, he silently wrote her a note. He left it on her bedside table along with a beautiful ceramic butterfly. And she remembered indifferently that his wife, Nell, who owned a ceramic business, knew Seana collected butterflies. Seana had, at one time, attended evening classes there and made several for her collection.

But that hobby had been a long time back.

Forever.

It no longer appealed.

Nothing appealed to her.

Seana no long knew what “appeal” meant.

• • •

Therapy came every day at two. It never altered.

For a while, during the first two to three months, Seana went faithfully. She did everything they told her to. Simple enough. But very quickly, she grew resentful of its intrusion.

Fact was, Seana was resentful of being at Rosewood Manor.

She resented everything about it because, in the first place, she felt she didn't need to be there. In the second place, she wanted to be home. She couldn't put her finger on any one thing that she missed of home, but she felt drawn there.

Then she had an idea.

“I have a stomachache,” she told the therapist one day.

“Okay. You just rest,” was the sympathetic reply. So she continued complaining of ailments.

It worked.

At first.

Then the therapist caught on. “Tell you what, Seana,” she said. “I'll bring some things for you to do right here. You don't have to leave your room.”

And she did.

Seana felt more trapped than ever.

• • •

“Come in, Zoe.” Pastor Keith stepped aside for her to enter his plush but comfortable church office. “Hold all calls, Nell,” he told his secretary before closing the door.

“Have a seat.” He indicated a smart padded chair across from him. He lowered himself into his leather chair behind the large executive desk. “How may I help you, Zoe?” His voice resonated with care.

Zoe's eyes immediately misted. “I've really messed up, Pastor. I – I don't even know where to begin.” She shrugged and snuffled back tears while snatching a Kleenex from his desk that he'd pushed within reach.

Pastor Keith folded his hands across his midriff and allowed her long moments to collect herself enough to proceed.

“I couldn't think of anyone else to talk to about – things.” She shrugged limply.

“That's what I'm here for.”

She smiled tightly at him then lowered her head to study her hands as they wadded and plucked at the tissue. “First, I really screwed things up with Scott Burns.” Her gaze slid to gauge his reaction.

The pastor's mouth seemed to twitch a little but Zoe felt she imagined it when his features settled into solemnity. “Anyway, at one time he seemed to really care for me.”

“And now?”

“Now?” She began to shred the tissue. “He doesn't have hardly anything to do with me.”

“Why do you think he changed?”

“Because I embarrassed him in front of my dance studio crowd when I scolded him for kissing me during a performance.” Her voice choked off on the last word and she plucked another Kleenex from the box. As she blew her nose soundly and snuffled, she missed the amused spark in the pastor's eyes, which he quickly wiped away.

“So he's backed off, has he?” Pastor Keith asked matter-of-factly.

“Yes. Extremely.” Zoe looked straight ahead, mortified for feeling so needy. Then she bucked up and squared her shoulders.

“Look,” she addressed him more firmly, more in control. “I'm sorry for being so whiney. It is so not me.”

Pastor Keith cleared his throat. “I know, Zoe,” he said gently. “But it's okay to seek counsel. The Bible encourages us to seek wise counsel; it gives us a safety net.”

Zoe smiled crookedly. “I guess I should have come sooner, huh?”

He chuckled. “It's never too late to seek help. Why don't you share what you're feeling right now?”

Zoe took a deep breath and plunged in feet first. She shared the way she felt about her past and her inadequacies when it came to holding a man. “They always leave,” she said flatly. “No matter how hard I tried to be who and what I should be, they always left.”

“How was your relationship with your father?”

“Oh.” She transcended quickly from gloom, smiled a dazzling smile. “It was wonderful.”

“So he thought you were pretty neat, huh?”

“He thought I was a perfect little princess.” Nostalgia prickled over her. “At least that's what he always called me, his princess.”

“Do you feel that your father was a wise man?”

Zoe sighed. “The wisest man I've ever known.”

“Then his opinion of you was one you valued?”

“Of course – oh, I see where you're going with this, Pastor.” Her smile vanished. “But that relationship was different. It wasn't a romantic one.” She exuded a huff. “In
those
I bomb.”

“So,” Pastor Keith steepled his fingers before him, deeply in thought, “you're still trying to figure out who and what you're supposed to be.”

“Pretty much.”

“Tell me about your feelings for Barth, the new man in your mother's life.”

Zoe bristled instantly. “No offense, Pastor, but I'd rather not talk about Barth.”

Pastor Keith leaned forward, elbows on desk. “But he's a new father figure in your life, Zoe. How can he not be important in your quest to find yourself?”

Zoe glared at him. “He is
not
a father figure in my life. He is my mother's husband. Period.”

The pastor settled back in his chair, studying Zoe. “That's strange. Barth addresses you and Tim as his children. He also claims grand-parentage to your offspring. Barth's very proud of his family. And Tim – as well as the rest of the family – seems to accept him affectionately. Why do you feel differently, Zoe?”

Zoe seemed to partially wilt. Then she shrugged, lowering her gaze. “I don't know exactly. There's just something about him – I feel he's hiding something. And I don't trust him with my mother's care since she's so vulnerable. So helpless.”

Pastor Keith looked at Zoe for long moments, seeming to weigh something on his mind. Then he shifted and Zoe felt him turn loose of that something. He pulled a pad and pen from his desk drawer, jotted down notes for her and said, “Zoe, here are some scripture references I want you to study. I want you to pray about your feelings in all these areas we've discussed. And if circumstances have not changed by next week at this time, come back to see me. Okay?”

She nodded, disappointed. She'd hoped for a miraculous, instant cure. “Okay.”

Then he added, “In fact, I want you to come back regardless. One week?”

“Sure.”

He reached across the desk for her hand. “Let us pray.”

• • •

“Thanks for seeing me, Pastor,” Barth embraced his friend. “We play dodge here at the office and we're both hard to catch. What with daily visiting Seana and all …”

“How's she doing?” Pastor Keith motioned for Barth to sit as he took his desk seat.

“Not good.” Barth shook his head. “She's not cooperating with the staff. They're pretty much fed up with her.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can't blame them.”

“Are you thinking of bringing her home?”

“It's the only thing I know to do. She's biting at the bits wanting to leave there. Don't know as home makes her any more at peace, however. But at the moment? It's the best solution I can come up with.”

“Zoe was in this week.”

“Oh?”

“She's not changed her mind about you.”

Barth sighed deeply. “I know.”

“Why don't you level with her?”

“I can't.” He shook his head slowly. “I can't handle that particular thing at this time. There's too much going on, Keith.”

“I know.” Silence stretched out. “But you can't continue to blame –”

“I can blame myself.” He stood and headed for the door, turning to address his closest confidant and friend. “I'm the reason she's dead, Keith. All the reasoning and justification in the world won't change that.”

“What about forgiving yourself?” The desperation and caring in those words did not escape Barth.

The dark head already moved from side to side, eyes behind thick lenses tear-blurred. “I can't, Keith. I just – can't.”

Shoulders sagged, he left, shutting the door softly behind him.

• • •

Seana was going home. Barth came to pick her up. All her belongings were ready when he got there, and it took only a few minutes to load them. She didn't bother to say goodbye to anybody, though some of the staff gave her a smiling send-off.

“Do you have pimento cheese?” she asked on the drive home.

Barth looked at her, disbelieving. “No.”

“Well, I want some.”

Barth reached for his cell phone and punched in Joanie's number. “Hi, Joanie. I know it's a bad time to ask, you busy at work and all, but do you have any pimento cheese around your place? I'm taking Seana home right now.”

“I'll make some as soon as I get home at four. Can you hold out that long? I'm finishing a perm.”

“We'll have to. Thanks, Joanie. I owe you big time.” He clicked the phone shut.

“Does she have any?” asked Seana, staring dully at the passing landmarks … Fred's Grocery and Deli, Church, Chelsea's Sassy Rags Dress Shop, Happy Feet Dance Studio, Joanie's Homecombing Queen Salon, Mater and Onion Buffet … they all went by in a blur.

“She'll bring some by later. In time for supper.”

Seana wasn't hungry. She'd had lunch before leaving Rosewood Manor. She'd not eaten much because she didn't like what they had. Today, she'd not liked fried chicken legs. She'd eaten some mashed potatoes, a little of the roll and butter, and two servings of cherry Jello.

“You hungry?” asked Barth.

“No.”

They arrived at the house within minutes and Seana headed straight for the sofa. “Where's my blanket?”

“I'll get it.” Barth took her bags to the bedroom and retrieved the soft blue blanket, her favorite, from the closet shelf. She was already curled up on the sofa when he got back to the den. He gently spread the cover over her.

“Cut all the lights on,” she muttered. She'd missed the bright lighting amid the dull hospital setting.

Barth did as she asked. Then moved Brutus's bed over the floor to the head of the sofa, where the pet could see Seana.

His phone loped into a Bach movement and he snapped it open. “Barth here.”

Seana heard the one-sided conversation and knew that it was Pastor Keith.

“Yes – I think I can make it, Pastor.” He looked at Seana. “I'll see if Billie Jean can stay with her long enough for me to come. I feel sure she won't mind. So I'll see you tomorrow at five.”

Seana reached for the remote Barth had placed near her head on the sofa arm.

She heard Barth's footsteps as they disappeared into their bedroom to unpack her belongings. She clicked on the television to the Braves game, and Brutus's gallant head lifted to lick her hand.

She snuggled under the cover and felt her cocoon close in and tighten, soothing, shutting out the world once more.

• • •

Barth arrived at the pastor's office five minutes early.

“Ah, you're here.” Pastor Keith met him at the door. Barth stopped short when he spotted Zoe already seated in one of the office chairs.

Zoe, too, looked equally taken aback at his appearance. “What's going on, Pastor?” she asked and jerked her dark head toward Barth. “What's he doing here?”

“Look, Pastor,” Barth took a couple of steps backward, hand stretched out, “If I need to come back, I can.”

“No, no.” Pastor Keith caught his arm and tugged. “Come on in. Take a seat. I promise both of you, this won't be that painful. Sit down, please, Barth.”

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Barth complied, sinking into the matching leather chair near Zoe. She avoided looking directly at him and he felt put out at his friend for choreographing this confrontation. And he knew beyond doubt that had anyone else except their pastor pulled this shenanigan, Zoe would have disappeared in a heartbeat.

He took off his glasses and cleaned them, for something to do with his antsy hands. Then he slid them back on. He sensed Zoe's tension as well. She looked as rigid as an ancient Cyprus tree.

But she at least didn't spring up and stalk out the door.

Progress? Probably respect for Pastor Keith.

Maybe, he thought, they would get through this – this
whatever
Keith had in mind. Barth tried to relax as Pastor's secretary, Nell, brought them coffee from the next room.

“Here. Chill out, you two,” Pastor ordered as Nell placed the tray on his desk within their reach, then quietly left. Barth was the first to reach for his cup and then Zoe.

“Cream?” she asked Barth.

“Sure.” She poured some into his coffee, then added some to hers and sipped.

“I guess you wonder why I called this meeting,” quipped Pastor Keith, his blue eyes twinkling above an unsmiling mouth.

“Definitely,” Zoe snapped.

Barth just tightened his lips so as not to say anything he might later regret.

Pastor's features relaxed into serenity, helping Barth to unwind just a bit. Yet he sensed something momentous hovering. Something he did not look forward to. All this perception came from having known the man called Pastor since boyhood, thus being able to read him pretty accurately.