Chapter 9

Raven and Rose were driving back out of town. He kept looking in his rear view mirror to make sure they weren't being followed. He hadn't meant to kiss Rose again. But he had. It had been a big mistake. And the sad thing, he wanted to do it again.

Rose's life was in peril. He shouldn't be having thoughts like this. He needed to remain focused and he couldn't do that when these crazy thoughts kept bombarding him like they were.

“Who do you think shot at me?” Rose asked. “Did you get a good look at him?”

Rose seemed oblivious to their earlier kiss as if she hadn't been affected by it at all. And that ranked. “No, I didn't get to see him as he ran off. His back was to me. I couldn't even tell what he was wearing.”

“Maybe we can go back there and see if we can find a footprint or something.”

“We're not going back there,” Raven snapped, causing Rose to flinch. The clipped tone of his voice told Rose there was no room for argument.

“We need to stop by my mother's house, then,” Rose said calmly. “There's some things I want to check out.”

Raven didn't think that was such a good idea. That could lead them into more danger. He'd had enough for one day. But he could tell by the look in Rose's eyes how desperate she was. He couldn't deny her. This was her one opportunity to finally uncover the truth about her past. To understand what had happened all those years ago. Then finally, she too, could be set free. Maybe there would be some ray of hope that the two of them could have a life together when that was accomplished.

After the shooting, Raven realized just how much he loved Rose. Protecting her from harm was more important than it had ever been. Because now Rose was his forever, whether she knew it or not. Whether he wanted it that way or not. It was an undeniable fact.

An hour later, Rose and Raven pulled up in front of Doris's house. The small structure was old, the yellow paint chipped in many places. Boards were split and rotting and the grass had grown high in some areas. And in others weeds had taken over. Rose hadn't been here in so long. She felt guilty for having neglected her mother and allowed her to live in such deplorable conditions.

“I didn't realize things were so bad,” Rose admitted mournfully.

Rose and Raven went in the direction of the back yard.

“When's the last time you were here?” Raven asked.

Rose shrugged. “I can't remember. Obviously it's been too long. How could I have done this to my own mother? I abandoned her, just as my father had abandoned us.” There was self-condemnation in her voice. A loathing that scorched her from the inside out.

They reached the back entrance of the house. Rose stooped over and reached under a window sill to the right of the back door. Her fingers scrapped across the bottom until the felt the key. She ripped the tape free and held the key in her hands.

As she was entering the house, Raven grabbed Rose by the arm and turned her to face him. His eyes were hard and unreadable. Rose felt her stomach lurch as the way he looked at her.

“Don't do this to yourself, Rose,” he ordered with a stern voice. “You haven't abandoned your mother. You are nothing like your father. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” is all she said as she moved further into the house. Raven closed the door behind them, making sure it was securely latched.

As Rose stepped into the living area, her eyes wandered around the room. For the first time in her life, she took the time to really notice her surroundings. The house seemed, cold, empty, lonely. There were only a few pictures of Rose as a small child. Other than that, there was very little evidence that small children had once roamed the place and made this their home.

Rose went toward the hallway leading to the attic. She pulled down the stairwell to gain entrance to it. As she did, years of dust came fluttering down around her. She looked up at Raven.

“Are you coming up?”

“No,” he said. “I'm going to stay down here. That way I'll be able to hear if any one comes near the house. If I go up there, someone could sneak up on us and grab you before I have time to react.”

Rose agreed that was the wisest thing to do. Besides, it would give her much needed privacy. She was about embark on a life-changing event. She wasn't sure how she would handle it. And until she did, it was probably best that she be alone.

She gave Raven one final glance before silently making her way up the stairwell. She had a premonition that told her her life was about to be altered in some way. She wasn't sure if it were in a good way or a bad way. But she knew her life, as she had once known it, was over. What lay ahead was nothing more than a mystery to be uncovered.

When at last she stepped into the attic, Rose flicked on the light. It brightened the room. The attic was cluttered. There was hardly any room to move around. Years and years of dust had accumulated and spider webs hung from the ceiling. The room was musty and smelled like mold. The room was warm and the heat nearly suffocated Rose.

Scattered around the room were bits and pieces of Rose's life. And that of her sister's. There were dolls and bicycles and dozens of boxes that littered the floor. Rose had to move some of the boxes out of the way in order to move through the small enclosure.

Her hands shook. She was afraid. But afraid of what? This was her life. Her sister's life. All the secrets lay somewhere in this room. She was sure of it.

Rose didn't know where to start. So she just grabbed a box and opened it. She shuffled through a stack of old bills and bank statements. She opened another and found some pictures that Rose had drawn in the second grade. She found her report card and a photograph of her smiling. She was missing her two front teeth.

She opened another box and then another. But it was near the last box that Rose finally found what she was looking for. Sitting at the top of the box was a photo album. At first Rose hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to open it up. For so long she had wanted to know the truth about her past. Now it stood before her, beckoning her. And she was dismayed at the thoughts that evolved. Maybe some things were left buried. Maybe she wasn't prepared to know the truth. Maybe she would hate her parents more than she did right now.

Rose's hands felt clammy as she finally reached for the photo album. She opened it slowly and an old, thin piece of paper fell onto Rose's lap. She picked it up. It was a newspaper clipping. It was dated just a few weeks before her sister's death. There was a picture of Iris laying in a hospital bed with bandages covering most of her body. The caption of the story read “Church Fire Kills 25 And Wounds One.”

Rose remembered back to the day at the hospital when she saw Iris standing in the hallway. Her face had been scared and she walked with a limp. The scars had been from the fire. But what about the limp? Where had that come from?

Rose began to read the story.

“Armand Baptist Church was having a sleep over for young girls when a fire erupted in the basement of the church. The fire spread quickly consuming the church and those inside with relentless intensity. The doors had been locked and were unable to be opened to allow those inside to escape. It is reported that all but one child perished in the tragic fire that claimed so many lives. Parents and family members mourn the loss of these children and the members of the congregation that had been supervising the event. Hospital authorities confirm that Iris McKenna will be moved to Winterpark Sanitarium for evaluation and treatment for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

Tears spilled from Rose's eyes and fell onto the old and faded article. She wiped the tears away as she stared down at her sister. Winterpark. She'd been at Winterpark. The truth hit her then. She searched the book for another article. Any kind of information that would confirm her beliefs and her suspicions. And there it was, at the back of the photo album. It was crumpled and shoved behind a picture. Rose retrieved the piece of paper and unfolded it. She smoothed it out with her hand then eyed it briefly before reading it.

“Death Of Patient Throws Suspicion on Staff.”

“Iris McKenna was found dead only three weeks after being admitted into Winterpark Sanitarium. Police officials have released details surrounding her death. It is reported the young girl, only 16, was found hanging in her room with a sheet tied around her neck. The staff reports the child had been suffering severe depression and suicidal tendencies since being admitted. The police suspect foul play, but at this time have no leads in the case. They will continue their investigation until they are satisfied with their findings.”

Rose's hand trembled as she read the article again. Her mother had said that Winterpark was a place of evil. Is that what she meant? Her sister had been murdered there. The police suspected foul play. But was anyone ever convicted of the crime? After all these years had those responsible been allowed to walk about freely as if they had done no wrong?

Rose tried to find some more articles to read. But there were none. She reached inside the box and found a few photos of her sister Iris. There was one of her in the green dress with the ruffles. It must have been her favorite dress. And she must have been wearing it the night of the fire.

Reaching further into the box Rose found a bundle of envelopes tied together. There were about twenty of them. She pulled them from the box and held them in her lap. She examined them closely. They were all addressed to her. They had not been opened. They were dated some months following the date of her sister's death. They were from her father. His name was scrawled across the top of the envelope in a rough penmanship. Alvin McKenna.

Rose began to cry harder. Her father hadn't forgotten about her after all. He had tried to contact her many times over the course of the years. He must still love her. The latest one was received shortly after her last birthday. Why hadn't her mother given her the letters. Why had she kept them from her? She knew her mother resented her father for leaving them. But she had no right to do this to her own daughter. Rose had so desperately needed him during those difficult years. He had wanted to be a part of her life. Yet her mother had denied her that simple thing. How different her life could have been, if only she had known that some where out there her father had been searching for her.

Anger surged through Rose. She tore open the first letter and read it as she wept.

“My Dearest Rose,

I've written you so many letters, yet you do not respond. We have all suffered a terrible tragedy. I miss you and your mother. Especially you. I long to see you. My heart aches with suffering every minute of every day. I made a horrible mistake when I left you and your mother. I would like to come back, but I'm afraid that neither one of you would want anything to do with me. I know that I do not deserve anything from either of you. But I had to leave, to clear my head. My sorrow over losing Iris was too much for me. And watching your mother waste away only made things worse. I didn't know how to help her. I was weak. I admit to that. I don't know what more to say. So I suppose this will be my last letter. My heart is tormented over the decision I made so long ago. You loved your sister and I'm glad that you weren't old enough to mourn her loss as your mother and I did. Please forgive me for the pain I have caused you. I love you always.

Your Father.”

Rose's head spun in a hundred different directions. Her father had loved her all those years. He'd regretted leaving her mother. He'd wanted to come back home, but he felt he couldn't because she hadn't written him back. If only she had written him back. Would there have been hope for a reconciliation between her parents?

Rose held on to her temper. She clung to it savagely. Her mother had done something so unforgivable. Her whole life could have been different if only . . .

Rose couldn't complete her last thought. She was ready to jump to conclusion without getting her mother's side of the story. That wasn't fair. She needed more information in order to deal with these new feelings the letter had provoked. She had a dozen questions bouncing around inside her head. She needed answers. She needed to see her father. To talk to him. Only then would she be able to move on, to heal, to live life without fear of rejection and abandonment.

Rose stuffed the letters and photo album back into the box and carried it downstairs. Raven was sitting in the living room patiently waiting for her. When he heard her footsteps he quickly turned in her direction.

He saw her carrying the large box and he came to rescue her from it. She handed it over to him and as she did, he could to tell that she'd been crying. His heart went out to her. He led her to the couch and helped her to sit down. He sat down beside her and held her hand in his.

“What is it, Rose? Did you find what you were looking for?”

Rose squeezed Raven's hand a little tighter. She leaned her head up against his shoulder and for a moment she was quiet. After a spell of silence, she lifted her head and glared at him with a tear-stained face.

“My father wrote me letters,” she said with profound sadness. Raven could hear the heartache in her words. The devastation. “All this time I thought he didn't love me.”

Rose clung to Raven, allowing him to comfort her as she had never allowed anyone to comfort her before. Raven slid his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly. His touch was reassuring and Rose luxuriated in the moment.

“I also found that my sister was injured in a fire. She was hospitalized, then she went to Winterpark for treatment of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. After three weeks, they found her hanging in her room. The clinic claimed it was suicide. The police didn't think it was.”

“Did they ever find out who did it?”

“No,” Rose said softly. “There were only two newspaper clippings of her ordeal. But there could be more in the letters that my father wrote. I didn't get a chance to read them all.” Her voice fell off, then after a brief interlude, she spoke again. “Will you take me to see him? Please.” Her voice was pleading and the look in her eyes was even worse. “I have his address. At least where he was living when he wrote me this last letter. I need to talk to him.”

“Of course,” Raven replied without hesitation. “I'd do anything you asked of me, Rose.” I love you, he whispered to himself. If only you knew how much. I'd go to the ends of the world to see that you are happy.

Raven stood and held out his hand to assist Rose off the couch. The two of them left the house hand in hand.

The drive to her father's house was three hours away. Rose read some of the letters that her father had written her over the years starting with the one's he'd written shorty after his departure from her life. She could hear the sorrow and regret in every word he wrote. He had enclosed several checks with the letters that were meant for her mother to cash. After awhile he had stopped sending them, obviously because the others had never been deposited into any bank account.

Raven allowed Rose the time to read the letters and to absorb this newfound information. He watched her reactions closely. She seemed confused, happy and sad all at the same time. He wanted to say something, but at the moment he didn't know what that would be. So he just sat there, silently giving Rose his support.

At last, she set a letter down in her lap. She was thinking and thinking hard. Raven could tell by the pensive look on her face. She took a deep breath and then she turned her sad doe-like eyes up at him. His heart twisted in his chest.

“Do you have salvation, Raven?” Rose asked humbly. “What is salvation? Can you explain it to me, help me to understand? My mother tried to tell me about it, but I wouldn't listen.”

“Salvation means that you accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior. It means that when you die, you will go Heaven where you will be reunited with those you know and love.”

“Do you believe in salvation?” Rose questioned.

“Yes, I do, Rose.” Raven answered succinctly. “There is a Heaven and a hell, Rose. Without salvation, one's soul is destined to spend an eternity in hell. I wouldn't want to be that person.”

Rose thought about that statement. What were the fires of hell like? Suddenly her thoughts turned to her sister. In a way, Iris was living in her own kind of hell. Iris had been badly burned, then murdered. She had drifted aimlessly all these years trying to find answers to how and why and who would have done such a thing. It was up to Rose to find the answers that her sister needed.

“I need to help my sister,” Rose acknowledged. “I need to help her move one.”

“I know,” Raven said, clutching her hand in his. The two of them pulled into a driveway. “Maybe your father can help.”

Rose's heart started fluttering in her chest. An icy chill ran through her spin. Suddenly she didn't think this was such a good idea. Meeting her father after all these years, what would she say to him?

Raven could see the indecision written on her face.

“Come on, Rose,” he encouraged. “Your father's waiting. He'll be happy to see you.”

Rose smiled just a little, showing her uncertainty. “I hope you're right.” She was about to open the doors to her past. And suddenly she was so unsure of everything. A lump of fear clogged her throat. Raven started heading toward the house. Rose clutched him by the arm. Apprehension raged through her. Raven watched her reluctance as she stood there beside his car.

“We need to pray,” she said at last. “I feel that we should pray that my father will be accepting of my sudden appearance in his life. I feel that God must prepare his heart.”

Raven knew that Rose had probably never prayed a day in her life. So he knew that this request was something that she badly needed. Without hesitation Raven moved closer to Rose. He grabbed both of her hands and held them gently against his chest. She could feel the beating of his heart. They lowered their heads and closed their eyes. Together they began to pray.

“Father, We come to you today, to ask that you guide our steps and to prepare our hearts for this union. I know that only you can make it perfect. Whatever happens, give Rose the strength needed to sustain her. Amen!”

Without another word the two of them walked up the driveway and to the front door. Rose lifted her fist, hesitated a moment, then rapped on the door. Anticipation coursed through her as she waited for her father to answer her knock. It seemed an eternity when, at last, the door flung open and Rose stood before the man who was her father.

The man wasn't much older than her mother. She imagined him to be in his mid to late fifties. His eyes were much like her own. They were clear and blue, but with a hint of loneliness that lingered in them. He was thin and small. His fingers were long and jagged and riddled with arthritis. He had a head full of gray hair that was thinning just above his forehead. He wore an old plaid shirt and a red tie with a tan pair of trousers that were held up with suspenders. He wore a pair of black loafer shoes.

Rose stood there breathlessly as she examined her father from head to toe. She took in every detail as if to memorize it forever. The man looked at her skeptically. His eyes skimmed over her briefly and Rose could see the unanswered question lurking in the depth of his eyes. Then he spoke. It was only one word. A simple word. But it was the most beautiful word Rose had ever heard. He called her “Daughter?”

Chaper 10 Coming Soon