Waking Rose: A Fairy Tale Retold

  Leroy made a face. “All my injuries came from being dragged down several flights of stairs while unconscious. My family’s thinking of suing the nurse. I actually managed to take out three guys without getting hurt beforehand.”

  “Two guys,” Alex corrected him. “You actually didn’t get the third one out before you were stunned by the guard’s Taser gun.”

  “I distinctly remember taking out three,” Leroy insisted.

  James shook his head with a look to heaven. “Look, you two have been arguing about this for days. Why don’t we tell Ben everything that happened, in order?”

  The group obediently sifted itself onto the two chairs in the room, Donna in one chair, Alex in the other. James sat on the floor in front of Donna, Leroy perched on an end table next to her, Paul leaned against the wall, and Kateri rather nonchalantly sat next to Alex and he held her hand in a way that Fish noted was surprisingly familiar. So...!

  “All right, let’s hear the complete story,” he said, settling himself.

  So he sat back and listened to the tale of the battle in the stairwell, complete with the Taser gunfight, Alex’s swordplay and fight with the remaining guards, and Donna’s impersonation of a nurse.

  Donna, who was looking particularly pretty that day in a long flowered dress with her hair up in a ponytail, told Fish her part of the story, starting from when she had left him at the barn. “I got there before the police, but by that time the security guards were already blocking the stairwell and I knew I couldn’t get past them. There was a real argument going on between the staff and security. Some of the techs didn’t want to call the police, but the others did, and there was a lot of confusion and trying to get a hold of Dr. Murray, whom I knew was out at the barn. Finally, when Alex took out his sword, one tech ran and made the phone call to the police. I followed her into the receptionist’s office and when she left, I took a coat and ID, and called Sally at the TV station. When I saw your brother getting out of his car, I ran out and told him to go back to the barn to look for you. Then I saw Dr. Barnes having the male nurses take James down to the cellar in a mad rush and figured things were going to get bad. I hid in a patient’s room and did up my hair, and then when the police came, I tried to fake my way through. I was shaking the whole time.”

  “You couldn’t tell at all,” Alex said. “Your acting was inspired.”

  Donna blushed. “I’m glad it worked out. But I was worried about you, Fish. I didn’t know why you didn’t come after me, but I had driven off, like you said to.”

  “And we’re all very glad you did,” Fish said, feeling a deep sense of relief. “And I’m glad you’re all still alive.”

  “Likewise,” Paul said, and the others all nodded emphatically.

  “We actually came here with a specific purpose in mind,” Leroy said. “We have a presentation to make.”

  “Oh?” Fish raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes,” Alex said, turning to Paul, who solemnly brought out a long object swathed in blue cloth. “We doubt it’s allowed in a hospital, so we sort of snuck it in under Paul’s trench coat. But it’s for you, and if they won’t let you keep it here, we’ll bring it out with us.”

  Paul set the long object on the bed, and unwrapped it. It was a long silver sword, about three feet long from the hilt to the point, with a cross handle and a large blue stone set in the middle. Alex ceremonially raised the sword in both hands.

  “For a man who has shown valor, honor, and steadfastness, even in the face of death,” he said with formal candor. “This sword we give to you, as a sign of your induction into the brotherhood of the Knights of Sacra Cor, the Sacred Heart of Jesus.” He nodded to Kateri. “My lady—”

  With a faint smile at Alex, Kateri came forward holding out a scabbard, and said, “For a man who has proved himself worthy in every way. May you bear your sword in purity, with justice, and with mercy, in the name of Christ and His Holy Mother.”

  “Amen,” the group responded. Alex set the sword across Fish’s lap, and Kateri laid the scabbard gently beside it.

  They all grinned at his stunned expression.

  “So, what do you think?” Paul wanted to know.

  “I’m from New York City. We don’t do these kind of sword things there,” he mumbled, his face red.

  All the rest chuckled. He picked up the sword experimentally, and hefted it. It was well balanced, and fit in his hand easily. “I’m honored,” he said at last. “Thank you.”

  He looked around at them. “But I’m not sure what I did to deserve knighthood. You guys were the ones who did all the actual fighting. All I did was get captured—twice in twelve hours—and beaten to a bloody pulp.”

  Alex said, “Well, Ben, in our little circle, you don’t get knighted because you win battles, but because you bother to fight them at all.” He glanced at Kateri, who smiled back.

  Fish shook his head dubiously. “Seems like you should raise your standard of membership at some point, to keep out the riffraff.” Then he sighed, attempting to be serious. “But all the same, I’m honored.” He raised the blade and looked at it again, testing it in his hand. Unsure, he set it down on his lap. “What do you do with a sword, when you’re not charging into battle?” he asked.

  “You stay prepared to use it,” Alex said.

  Paul added, “And you keep it where you can see it, to remind yourself of who you are.”

  “Ah,” Fish murmured. To shift the attention from himself, he turned to Kateri. “So how are the charges the hospital brought against you for the protest?” he asked.

  “Dropped,” Kateri said, her face tinted with mischief. “The hospital has enough on its hands right now to file any kind of charge against me, what with its director in jail for your attempted murder. And two of its surgeons—including the ubiquitous Dr. Barnes—being arrested for conspiring to mutilate patients. That’s what they’re calling the organ stealing. And Milton is awake!” her eyes lit up. “As of yesterday. He’s going to be released soon, and the college has offered him a job in the maintenance department if he’s up for it.”

  “I’m very glad,” Fish said. “What about Dr. Murray?”

  Kateri’s face grew solemn. “She’s not doing well. You probably know she had a physical collapse after she was arrested. She’s been admitted to the hospital for chest pains, and they’re keeping her under close surveillance. I don’t know. I hope she manages to get through it okay.”

  “I do, too,” Fish said quietly. He had heard something about this already.

  Just then a nurse came in, and seeing the crowd said, “Excuse me...?” Everyone rose, and Alex said, “Hey, Ben, we’ll come and see you when you have a bit more rest, okay?”

  “Okay,” Fish said. They each came by to shake his hand. Donna, who seemed happier than he had ever seen her, gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, “I’m praying for you.”

  “Thanks. Thanks again for your help,” he said to her, with true sincerity.

  “I’m glad I could do it,” she said, and with another smile, passed from the room.

  The nurse caught sight of the sword after they had all left and said, “Goodness! Is that real?”

  “A real what?” he asked innocently.

  “Well, just keep it out of sight of the doctor,” she said with a sigh, and Fish obediently slid it into the sheath and set it on the long heater by his bed, and pulled the curtains over it. Casting a last glance at it, he laid his head back down and went to sleep.

  Hers

  She had been released from the hospital that morning, but was waiting around because she was expecting her sister and new baby nephew to arrive soon. Bear had gone up yesterday to get them, since Blanche was insisting she was feeling up for the trip. Mom and her friends, including Paul, Alex, and Kateri, had offered to stay with her, but she wanted to be alone. With Fish. But he still slept on steadfastly.

  It wasn’t fair. He had seen everyone else, practically, but hadn’t yet woken up when she was around. She was determined to
wait him out.

  Now, dressed in a cream colored dress and pink silk scarf she had borrowed from Kateri’s wardrobe, she sat in a chair by his bed, not reading T. S. Eliot, and watching him.

  “This is really getting ridiculous, Mr. Fish,” she said to him at last. “I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me again. I know I’m probably too emotional, and my expectations are too high, and I don’t blame you much for wanting to stay away.”

  She sighed a deep sigh, and fluffed her hair. “Actually, if you’d rather stay away from me, from now on, I understand. You said you didn’t want any more adventures, and I’ve made you have another one, and now, looking at you, I think I can understand why you’re not as fond of them as I am.”

  She wiped her eyes, but went on softly, “I can see I’ve been too hard on you, maybe. Maybe you’re right about me expecting too much. But I hope you can see now what everyone else sees—that you are capable of being a knight in shining armor, and slaying a dragon. Even just by enduring the fire.”

  Her fingers knit into his. “I owe you so much,” she said simply. “There’s no way I could pay you back, ever. So I understand if you’d rather not be put into a position where you would have to bear my gratitude.”

  Quite unexpectedly, his head turned towards hers, and he said sleepily, “I wish you could have heard all the one-way conversations I had with you when you were sleeping. But I suppose you didn’t?”

  “Fish!” she said, chagrined. “You’re awake!”

  He merely raised an eyebrow at her with a slight, crooked smile.

  “That’s not fair. You should have warned me.”

  “Why? So you could have censored your words? I prefer the unedited version.”

  “I—I—” she stumbled.

  He grinned at her and opened his brown eyes. “What?”

  “I just talk too much. I ramble on and on. I’d rather hear you talk.”

  His eyes grew serious. “No, remember, you haven’t been talking. And I’ve missed it. There have been too many months in my life recently where you were silent. I was just lying here enjoying hearing your voice. That’s why I didn’t respond.”

  “Oh,” she said, taken aback. “Well, I suppose I should consider it only a temporary condition.”

  He smiled again. “Perhaps. But I wouldn’t rush to that conclusion, necessarily.”

  She noticed then, that somehow his hands had moved around hers so that she wasn’t merely holding his hands—his hands were holding hers. There was something new about that.

  “Fish,” she said hesitantly. “How are you?”

  “Wounded. But recovering. As usual.” He paused, reflectively. “It’s not quite so bad. I used to think that wholeness was impossible for someone like me, but I think I had the wrong idea of what it meant to be whole.”

  “You mean, you thought it meant ‘unspoiled.’ ‘Untarnished.’”

  “Yes, that’s right,” he said, with a touch of surprise. “Like purity. Once it’s gone, you can never get it back.”

  “But that’s not how it is, is it? It’s something that’s created in you. By God.”

  “Through fire,” he put in for her. Then abruptly he asked, “Speaking of fires, what would you think if I went to law school?”

  She stared at him. Not because of the sudden change in his interest, but because he seemed to think she should have something to say about it.

  “I think that would be wonderful,” she said. “If that’s what you want to do.”

  He looked over towards the window meditatively. “There’s no difficulty with the money. I’ve been thrifty with my money since I wasn’t planning on getting a real job after I had my doctorate in literature. But as a lawyer, I might be pulling a pretty substantial salary, eventually, so I could make the investment. But it will be a long haul to get through law school.”

  “Why do you want to do it?” she queried.

  He heaved a sigh. “A sort of calling, I guess. A vocation I’ve been avoiding for a while. As I’ve been avoiding a lot of things I knew, deep inside, I should be doing.”

  She licked her lips. “Ah. Hm.” And internally flailed around desperately, wondering if she had missed something, or...

  “You know I can’t totally escape my past,” Fish went on. “I told you about some of my struggles, and I’m sure that they’re going to happen again. I don’t know if you can live with those, either.”

  “Fish,” she said at last, attempting to follow him. “Fish, I don’t mind. You’re alive, and I couldn’t care what you do, compared with that. For me, the possibility I’ve been haunted by has been having to live without you. And I just couldn’t bear that.”

  He glanced at his bandages and considered, looking over at her. “I suppose losing me was a pretty distinct possibility, wasn’t it?”

  “And I don’t want to lose you, ever again. I think I’d die.” She dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry. This is all very forward of me. Not at all ladylike.”

  “Rose, it’s OK. Your candor doesn’t bother me.”

  She raised her eyes. “It doesn’t?”

  “No.”

  HIS

  There was a pause, and he sensed that a moment was coming that he had missed before and shouldn’t miss again. But she beat him to it.

  “Fish,” she asked timidly.

  He squeezed her hand. “Yes, Rose?”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She had that look on her face again. He flushed slightly, wondering what she would say next, and hoping she wouldn’t say something that he had hoped to say to her first. “What’s that?”

  “You once said that if I ever thought,” she wasn’t looking at him, but at the wall. He saw her cheeks were rapidly getting red. “That if I ever thought—that you had kissed me—that I was dreaming.”

  Now he understood, and chuckled deep in his chest. “Did I say that?” he inquired mildly.

  “You did. I remember it distinctly. It made a very great impression on me at the time.” Her voice was slightly accusing.

  “Oh, yes,” he said after a moment. “I think I remember that.” He knew what he would say to her now. But she went on, stopping him again.

  “So, am I to understand—” She paused, and started again, “I mean, what I was wondering—when you came to me and I woke up—you didn’t happen to—”

  She was stumbling, her cheeks flaming red.

  “You want to know if I kissed you?” he finished for her, raising an eyebrow and making her completely mortified.

  “Uh—yes. Particularly since I had it on such good authority that such a thing would never, ever happen,” she reminded him. “Even in my dreams. And this dream was quite—vivid.”

  “Was it?”

  He looked up into her eyes. Her wavering eyes met his at last, and steadied. She nodded, and swallowed. But the fluster was gone from her face.

  He put a hand to her face and drew it towards him. He said softly, “Rose, it wasn’t a dream.”

  And then, without a hesitation or a doubt, he moved his lips to hers.

  The kiss lingered between them, and when he finally moved away from her, she had her eyes closed blissfully, and he saw that she was savoring this moment. He couldn’t help grinning. That was one thing he loved the most about Rose Brier—her simple ability to live each present moment to its fullest.

  “No, it wasn’t a dream,” she whispered. “It was a dream come true.” She sighed wondrously. “I’m so very, very glad.”

  A Little Bit About This Book

  To date, this book has made me receive more email than any other book that I’ve ever written. I had no idea that my blithe promise some ten years ago on the back flap of Snow White and Rose Red to finish the story of Blanche, Bear, Rose and Fish would generate such enthusiasm. And since the enthusiasm hadn’t abated since the publication of the second book, Black as Night, I can only conclude that the characters that readers REALLY wanted to read about were Rose and Fish. I hope the book satisfies that desire
!

  Although the basic draft of the story had been completed shortly after I finished Black as Night, this book almost didn’t get published—several times. First, the original publishers of the series, Bethlehem Books, decided to close their new fiction imprint, due to a lack of manpower. Then, it seemed impossible to find another publisher. One year of waiting stretched into two. And then last summer, our family suffered the loss of our son, Joshua Michael, and I had to put writing on hold for a while.

  Throughout this, loyal readers of the first two books wrote to express their encouragement (and impatience!) to read the next book. I am not exaggerating when I record here that it is because of these dedicated fans that my husband and I decided around Christmas 2006 to push Waking Rose into print ourselves this summer.

  But it has been a long haul, and I have so many people to thank who helped during this time.

  For help with the themes of this story, I owe much to my friend Joan, the original “Blanche,” who encouraged me to take the story in the direction of its final form. Also to Connie Marshner, who taught me invaluable lessons concerning writing about delicate matters for young teens. And to my friend David Morrison for sharing his own struggle towards wholeness in his book Beyond Gay.

  For the ample medical research that this book required, I am indebted to Dr. Michael Greger, as well as my invaluable friend Dr. Frank, who read over the final manuscript and helped me solve several problems. And to my own wonderful brother, Dr. David Doman, whose critique threw a wrench into the process but ultimately made the book stronger and more believable.

  For aid with legal questions, I once again turned to my friend Stephen Jerome, whose help was timely and useful.

  Daria Sockey and my friend Helen Babineau provided some valuable feedback and a listening ear when I was along the final stretch. So did Anna Hatke, my sister Maria, and other friends and relatives too numerous to list. And lest I forget, it was my “emergency Jamies,” Jamie Spiering and Jaime Berger, who, several years ago, brainstormed with me late into the night until I arrived at the main plot of the book. They are the ones who are responsible for what became almost all the barn scenes in the book. And Janet Batchler helped me refine one key scene at the climax at the last minute, and got a character named after her in thanks.