Rose & Other Stories
B. Heather Mantler
Rosalyn Marie Francis
A. A. Cheshire
Edited by Sarah Dahlmann
Rose copyright 2013 B. Heather Mantler
Mothers Don't Get Medals copyright 2014 Rosalyn Marie Francis
Once A Thief copyright 2014 A. A. Cheshire
Cover photo copyright 2014 B. Heather Mantler
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All characters, events and places in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people or places past or present is strictly coincidental.
Table of Contents
Rose by B. Heather Mantler
Mothers Don't Get Medals by Rosalyn Marie Francis
Once A Thief by A. A. Cheshire
About the Authors
Other Works from Mantler Publishing
Rose
by B. Heather Mantler
Seraton:
Developed in 1994 by government scientists, it was supposed to wipe the memories of government spies and secret service agents who were captured in an effort prevent loss of confidential information through torture. The memory loss wore off with discontinued use. However, the trials showed the drug caused a violent reaction when initially given. To stop this, a sedative was added. The sedative mixed with the drug made the test subjects semi-catatonic. In 1996, the funding for the research was cut and the drug declared useless. The patent for the drug was bought by a private company in 1997.
June 5, 2006
The nurse at the front desk looked up as the woman was brought in by a man wearing a long leather jacket and blue jeans. His brown hair was done in a military haircut and his blue eyes looked tired. The woman was wearing an overcoat, her brown hair hung in her face and her arms crossed over her chest.
“Can I help you?” The nurse asked, looking at the woman. The woman’s eyes peered out from under the hair.
“I’m looking for Dr. Fenton,” The man said, “I talked to him on the phone yesterday.”
“Have seat and I will call him for you,” The nurse said.
“Thank you,” The man said. He turned and directed the woman to the nearby couch. There weren’t many people in the waiting area, so there was lots of space to sit down. The nurse watched them sit down before turning away to pick up the phone. She had dialed the first two digits of the extension when there was a ruckus at the door. She looked up to see two police officers fighting to bring an escaped patient back into the building. The nurse put the phone down and ran to get some orderlies to help out the police officers.
The waiting room got busy for several minutes as the orderlies arrived and the patient was sedated. The patient was dragged away and the police left. The waiting area was quiet once again and the nurse sat down at her station. She picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Fenton’s extension. She informed him that a man and woman were waiting for him and that the man had phoned him the day before. Dr. Fenton said he would be right down.
The nurse glanced over at the couch. The woman was curled up in a ball against the arm of the couch, but the man was no longer sitting beside her. The nurse looked around the waiting area, but the man was nowhere in sight. The nurse stood up, went around the desk, and approached the woman.
“Where did he go?” The nurse asked. The woman shrugged.
“He said that he would be back,” The woman’s voice was muffled, “And I should wait for him.”
The nurse saw a piece of paper beside the woman and picked it up. It was an admission paper, but the only thing filled out was the signature of the person who could sign her out and that was unreadable. The spaces for name, birthday, and everything else were blank.
“Nurse?” Dr. Fenton asked from behind her. The nurse turned to him.
“This is the woman,” The nurse said, “But the man disappeared. He just left this.” The nurse offered the paper. Dr. Fenton took it and looked it over.
“Well, let’s get her in for an evaluation.” Dr. Fenton said, “Perhaps she can fill in these blanks.”
“All right,” The nurse said. She headed back to her desk to gather the rest of the paperwork Dr. Fenton would need.
Dr. Fenton stepped closer to the woman. She peered up at him.
“Miss,” Dr. Fenton said, “Will you please come with me?”
“He’ll be back,” The woman answered, “I am supposed to wait for him.”
“Why don’t you come and wait inside?” Dr. Fenton asked, “It’s more comfortable.” Dr. Fenton took the woman’s arm and tried to get her to stand up.
“No!” The woman screamed and scratched Dr. Fenton to get him to let go of her. Dr. Fenton pulled his arm back. The scratches were deep enough that the cuts welled up with blood.
Dr. Fenton could hear the nurse call for the orderlies. The woman kept Dr. Fenton at a distance by scratching at him if he tried to touch her. The orderlies arrived and each took an arm as they pulled her off the couch. She started screaming again and repeated that the man was coming back and she was supposed to wait for him. She fought as the orderlies dragged her through the doors and into the hospital itself. Dr. Fenton followed them as he pressed the cuts with the sleeve of his shirt.
They got the woman sedated before putting her in a padded room. She slumped down in the corner where the orderlies set her. The orderlies left, but Dr. Fenton stayed a minute more. He crouched down beside her.
“I’ll take care of you, Rose, just like you asked me to.” He patted the woman’s shoulder before straightening up and leaving the room.
May 7, 2012
Dr. Fenton stood at the window of his office, watching the patients wander the grounds. The ones that were allowed out were dressed in coats appropriate for the weather, but it made them a little harder to tell apart. If he hadn’t been head doctor of the hospital for so many years and knew all the patients as well as he did, he would have had more trouble. However, each of them stood or sat in their usual places in the grounds.
Rose was by the rose bushes. She was checking on them. The gardener was supposed to be the person who took care of the flowers on the grounds, but even he would be the first to say that it was Rose who took care of them. One of the nurses had asked for roses to be planted on the grounds in memory of her husband, who had a mental breakdown and jumped off the roof. The gardener had done it. He didn’t think they would last because he didn’t know much about growing roses, but then Rose arrived. She might not talk much, or at all most days, but she had instructed the gardener how to take care of the roses. The gardener might have just handed over his tools to Rose and let her go, but Dr. Fenton had expressed concern about giving Rose sharp implements.
The phone rang. Dr. Fenton turned from the window to pick it up.
“Yes?”
“Dr. Radburn is here to see you,” The nurse at the front desk said.
“Have him escorted up,” Dr. Fenton said.
“Yes, Doctor,” The nurse said. Dr. Fenton put the phone back before turning to the window. The patients wandered around the grounds lost in their own realities, completely unaware of what was going on anywhere else. If he didn’t know what their realities were like, Dr. Fenton might envy them. After all no one had told them what was going on.
A member of the board had realized that Dr. Fenton had been the doctor at the mental hospital for thirty years, which meant that they felt it was time for him to retire his position. This Dr. Radburn wa
s supposed to be his replacement. The switch was supposed to be immediate, but then it was decided that Dr. Fenton would mentor Dr. Radburn. Dr. Fenton knew that it was the better idea, but still felt like he was being pushed aside for the newer and supposedly better. Not that they were asking him to leave at the end of the six months, but he would take a backseat to Dr. Radburn. Dr. Fenton had spent some time counting his savings to see if he could retire yet, but found it a little bit short of his goal. He hoped that he could find another job or another source of income before the six months were up.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Dr. Fenton called. He heard the door open and someone come in. The person stopped and the door was closed. Dr. Fenton looked over his shoulder to study the man. The man was average height and looked in good shape for a doctor. His arms, chest, shoulders, and even ankles were muscular. He had a jaw line that suggested an average man. His brown hair was neatly parted with a slight shine to it. Under a tan coat, he wore brown loafers, grey slacks that came just above his ankles, and a white dress shirt. His grey eyes scanned the room. He didn’t appear to have any lips and his nose had been broken at least three times. To Dr. Fenton he looked more like body builder or a thug than a doctor.
“Dr. Radburn, I assume,” Dr. Fenton said as he turned back to the window.
“Yes,” Dr. Radburn replied, “You did get the notice about