

Blossoms in the Snow

Novella by Paula Freda

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 by Dorothy Paula Freda

(Pseudonym - Paula Freda)

Cover Insert Photo - Licensed by Paula Freda from iStockphoto.com

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof.

This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Dedication

With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over the past 40 years have kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant. Paula Freda

### Blossoms in the Snow

### by

### Paula Freda

CHAPTER ONE

Dorothea, Dot for short, checked the mail. It lay bundled haphazardly on the polished mahogany wood mantle beneath the hall mirror. Bills, magazines, ads, urgent notices that usually turned out to be "order now for discounts and savings." Nothing for her today. Her parents, who were late risers, were still asleep. A pity, thought Dot, as they would miss the refreshing feel of the brisk morning air on this her very special day, the sixth of February.

In Europe, the feast day of one's namesake was often celebrated as joyously as one's birthday, and February 6th was, until some years ago, celebrated as the feast day of her patron saint, Saint Dorothy of Caesarea in Cappadocia. Although Dot and her parents hailed from Long Island, and lived presently near Garrison, overlooking the Hudson River, her genealogy traced back to Palermo, Sicily. Her great-grandparents and her grandparents had celebrated Feast Days as enthusiastically as birthdays. They had carried the tradition along with them when they disembarked at Ellis Island in 1921.

A frugal lot, the men had worked in horticulture, the women in retail shops, among them garment shops, hat and dress and accessories, and flowers. They had done without luxuries, and scraped and saved so that now three generations later, their offspring owned and operated successful firms in various industrial fields. Dot's parents, leaning more toward the aesthetic, had opted for a prosperous chain of florists shops that catered to the ordinary citizen as well as to the elite. Dot, her sister, Alessandra (Ale) and her brother, Anthony (Tony) lacked for nothing.

Continuing with their Italian heritage, her family never ignored Feast Days. The extended family party planned for tonight included over a hundred guests. They would sit and socialize comfortably at the linen-covered tables under the huge party tent on the front lawn of her parents' gracious two-floor smooth white stone dwelling.

In the center of the expansive lawn, stood a life-size alabaster statue of Saint Dorothy, posed in the process of handing an angelic child a basket containing apples, cinnamon bark, a cluster of cloves, and three roses in full bloom. Dot's grandmother who also bore the name of Dorothea, had commissioned the sculpture during her youth. Dot's parents were proud to retain the statue, as Saint Dorothy was also the patron saint of gardeners and florists

Inside the foyer, the morning light played gently with the orchid pattern on the door's opaque glass panes and polished dark mahogany frame, creating bright spots and shadows, and casting them playfully on the wide wood staircase, and the wrought iron scroll baluster and hand rails leading to the upstairs. Dot opened the closet door on the left and took out her wool cashmere coat, the tan one, slipped into it, and buttoned it to the top. The brass knob on the front door felt cool against her fingers as she unlocked and swung open the door and stepped outside.

The grounds, quiet and serene for the moment, within a few hours would be bustling with a 100 guests and a score of servants and catering personnel carrying trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, in preparation for a feast day celebration in her honor. Dot breathed in the brisk cool air and sighed, "Dear Saint Dorothy, I need a miracle."

By mid-afternoon guests of all sizes were milling about the lawns, chatting, a drink in one hand, and the other hand waving assorted patterns in the air to emphasize whatever it was they were communicating to their present companion. Dot stood by the stone balustrade that bordered the side of the property and formed a barrier to the sloping hill that led down to the river. She smiled, more in resignation. For the most part, the guests were good people and Dot appreciated their coming to celebrate her feast day. Some were poor; some were richer than her parents. Some were married, accompanied by their spouses, others accompanied by a friend. Then there were the singles—the girls on the lookout for male companionship. And, of course, the young men who'd be willing to jump off the balustrade and roll down the hill into the river, if she promised to marry them and endow them with her inheritance.

She had dated some; Jim, for one. He didn't really need her money; just the assurance that if he ran out of his, he could fall back on hers. Then there was John; intelligent and suave, cosmopolitan—on the outside, that is. Cold as frost and ego-centered on the inside. A conversation with him, was all about him.

Jason. He was nice to spend an hour or so with. He smiled when he was supposed to, and frowned when the conversation deemed it appropriate. A college graduate in engineering and structural design, he worked in his father's architectural firm, along with two of his brothers—a worthy occupation and a father's pride and reassurance of passing on his business to worthy offspring. Life with him would be pleasant. Dot shook her head. Where was the spark?

"So why isn't the party queen with her guests?" a deep voice drawled.

Startled, Dot turned around and raised her eyes to face the speaker. Readying for a witty retort to a familiar face, the words died on her lips. She faced a stranger, albeit a well dressed stranger in a dark grey semi-formal tux, on the tall side and of medium frame, who looked to be in his early thirties. He had a face you might call country, the kind you might find on a Nashville stage, but his voice was definitely northeastern seaboard.

"Well?" he urged.

Dot realized she was staring. "Uh‒who are you?"

He laughed. "Oh, you don't remember?"

Dot gave him the proverbial reply." Should I?"

The stranger paused, reflecting, studying her face.

Inexplicably, Dot felt self-conscious. She considered herself short. Her parents insisted that 5' 3" was not "short" but average. She maintained her figure and her health by constant care about what she ate that included most quality foods, but in the correct portions, and non-abusive exercise that included walking rather than driving short distances. At the age of fourteen she had weighed a hundred sixty-five pounds. During high school she had finally learned to control her eating and her weight. And now, at age 21, she had managed to slim down to a hundred and twenty-five pounds, and to scrupulously maintain that weight.

The stranger continued to watch her. Perhaps he waited for her to recollect where they had met. Dot shook her head. "I'm sorry, I honestly don't remember ever meeting you." Maybe the question was only a line often used to start a conversation or—a pickup.

"No," he finally spoke. "You wouldn't remember me; you were only six." He had her attention. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Theo‒Theo Scaloni. I'm the In-house Corporate Lawyer at your Uncle Albert's firm."

Dot searched her memories. As an adult, she occasionally visited Uncle Albert at work. She did not recall ever seeing Theo. But as a child, age six—yes, her father had once taken her with him on a visit to his brother at work. Uncle Albert owned a construction company that had started small and expanded over the years into a profitable and well-respected business. He valued accuracy and timeliness in his dealings with customers. Dot peered up closer at her conversant's face. Yes, country, as she had deemed on first sight. Hard lines, but a semi-rigid jaw softened at the moment by an inquisitive smile, or was it an impudent quirk of the lips. Dot met his gaze. His eyes were beautiful. Set nicely apart above a roman nose, their color an azure blue like the cloudless sky above her this afternoon. A memory stirred.

"Oh, my goodness, yes. I do remember you."

His smile widened. "Do you remember what you made me promise?"

"Something to do with—" Dot felt her face grow warm. She lowered her gaze to her white pumps. "Oh, for heaven's sake, I was only six," she gasped. It was a marvel that the memory had returned with such clarity. She had watched a television movie, the evening before her visit to her uncle, where a promise made between two young people in love had endured tragic events and falsehoods. Her mother and father had watched the movie with her, and when she had asked why keeping the promise was so important, they had tried to explain to her, as parents will do, the moral of the story, so that when she grew and found love, she would remember what to look for in a good man to marry.

That was a time in her life when she was learning to discern right from wrong. The movie and their advice had made a strong impression upon her child's mind. The next day at her uncle's firm, she had spotted Theo sitting behind a huge monitor—modern technology for that time. He had looked at her and the resemblance to the hero of the movie, especially the eyes, had struck a chord in her child's mind. She had run over to him and quick as a hummingbird, had made him promise that he would marry her one day. He was definitely the good man her parents had described the evening before."

"Oh, my Lord!" Dot exclaimed. "And you remember that?" she asked, chuckling.

"A promise is a promise," he replied, with an impudent, but good-natured grin.

"Well, I release you from that promise," Dot replied, "And no hard feelings," she added with her own decisive, impudent, but good-natured grin.

She could have sworn she saw disappointment on his face, but so fleeting, she assumed it was merely an instant's pause to compose a witty rebuttal, a rebuttal that never came as the bandleader called her name. It was time for the birthday cake.

With all the fanfare as the cake was rolled in, she lost track of Theo, not knowing what table he was at. But his face, now permanently joined to the resurfaced memory, still brought a flush to her cheeks. And when the band returned after the cake and coffee had been served and began playing again, she was kept busy dancing with guest after guest to think more of him.

As the afternoon wore on and the party came to a close, the guests filed before her, wishing her the best and saying goodbye. Their expensively wrapped gifts were piled high on a table in the corner, too many to open as she might have, at a more intimate celebration. Between the music and the hundred voices talking and laughing, the scene before her grew slightly blurred until it suddenly cleared to crystal sharpness.

"May I call on you next Friday evening?" Theo asked holding her hand longer than the required handshake.

He had strong hands, and his fingers felt warm and comforting. "Ne-Next Friday?" she stammered, her right hand held captive in his. "I-I have to check my calendar." Except for a couple of luncheons with her old college mate, her calendar was empty. She had graduated only a few months ago with honors from her two-year Liberal Arts Course, and was now taking a year off to decide where her future lay.

With his left hand he reached into the chest pocket inside his tux jacket and withdrew a business card. "My cell phone number is on the back. Let me know."

Their fingertips touched as she accepted the card. "Ye-Yes. I-I'll let you know." What was the matter with her? Dot thought. Why was she stuttering? Where was her usual serene, composed self? Why was she not withdrawing her hand? And when he finally let go, why did her fingers grow suddenly cold?

He gave her a disarming smile, then turned and left.

CHAPTER TWO

Should she call, or not? Why call in the first place. Dot could not explain why she even considered his request, but she had spent the better part of the week debating with herself. Of all her suitors, none had evoked such a response in her. He wasn't any handsomer than her other suitors. Except perhaps his eyes. They were the most beautiful sky blue she had ever seen. And the challenge—yes, that was part of it, a definite challenge in their expression—and in the disarming smile. Try me, you'll like me, it seemed to say. Well, maybe she should accept a date with him, just to prove him wrong. Disarming, my foot. Smug and arrogant was more like it.

For the twentieth time that week, Dot shook her head, chiding herself. She was reading faults into his expression of which she had no proof. Just because he exuded self-assurance didn't make him arrogant. They hadn't spoken much. It might prove interesting to find out more about him. After all, he had not demanded that she call him; nor had he pestered her for a date. He was leaving the decision up to her.

A friendly luncheon with lots of people around them might prove enjoyable. He wasn't really a stranger. Upon her inquiry inside the foyer embellished with polished dark mahogany woodwork, her parents acknowledged his acquaintance. Her father even referred to him as "A fine young man, a hard worker. I remember him." And her mother added, "Your uncle suggested him, among others, for the guest list.

"A lawyer." Dot raised her eyebrows. "Funny, I remember him seated at a simple desk in front of an old computer, and thinking—a clerk—what my six-year-old mind equated with a young man behind a small desk and an old computer?"

"Oh, he started out as a clerk, years ago," Dot's father said. "He worked his way up while attending law school, took his bar exams and passed with flying colors. My brother offered him the position left open by his retiring predecessor. And Albert has never regretted it."

"Why all the questions?" he added."

"Has he asked you out?" Dot's mom inquired.

"Yes," Dot admitted.

"And—" her mother waited.

"All right," Dot came to a decision. "He asked me to call and give him a date and time." And as an afterthought, "He is single, isn't he?"

Dot's father laughed and placed his arm about her shoulders in a bear hug. "I would have told you if he wasn't, the minute you asked about him."

Dot felt her face grow warm, and even warmer, when her mother added, chuckling, "Vincent, she's blushing!"

"Has our little girl finally found someone who's managed to turn her head?"

Dot shrugged his arm away, but kissed his cheek affectionately. "That's not easily done," she said.

"Amen to that" her mother added. "Come along, Vincent, we're late. Want to come along, Dot," her mother added. "It's the International Flower Show at the planting fields arboretum. They're showing some new exceptional hybrids from roses and lilies. An unusual flower. Dad and I are considering growing them and selling them in our stores."

"No, Mom, not this time," Dot declined. "But tell me all about it when you get back. I have an important call to make. Have fun." She hurried up the elegant staircase to her room.

Dot glanced sharply at her cell phone lying on her floral quilt. It's now or never, she told herself. She walked to her oversized twin bed and picked up the cell phone, clicked on the touch screen and tapped in the phone digits. She didn't need to check his business card for the phone number. It was fresh in her memory for all the times this past week that she had stared at the card debating whether to call or not.

She held her breath as his phone rang. On the fourth ring, his answering machine answered. "You've reached Theo Scaloni. He's not answering, but if you'll leave your name, telephone number, and business, he'll get back to you presently." Dot clicked off the screen. "Well, buster, you had your chance," she muttered, and flung the phone back on the quilt.

CHAPTER THREE

Dot stayed in her room for the remainder of the day and seesawed between disgust and reason. He wasn't there. She should have simply left a message. She could call him tomorrow. She ought to just forget about it, forget she had ever met him, forget those blue eyes and the warm comfortable clasp of his hand. Foolish to think the man was sitting home waiting for her call. He had probably forgotten even meeting her. Silly girl, she chided herself.

In the morning, she rose early and walked to her parish church, attended Mass, then stopped for breakfast at a local diner she had frequented since high school. In her grandparent's youth it had been an ice cream parlor, updated to a luncheonette in her parent's youth, and some ten years ago, turned into a glass and aluminum plated eatery. If the exterior was colored cold silver, the interior had maintained its cozy atmosphere of a serving counter and grey and pink upholstered booths. The food was good and the waitresses pleasant. Dot settled in an empty booth by a window.

"May I?" a self-assured voice asked. Dot glanced up. Any reply she might have made died on her lips as she met his slightly amused gaze. "May I?" he repeated, holding back a chuckle as she stared up at him, shock plainly visible on her features. "I saw your number on my ID caller. Sorry I wasn't there to answer."

"H-how did you know I was here?" Dot finally managed to say.

"I called your home. Your Mom said you sometimes stop here for breakfast."

"Oh—" Dot replied weakly and cringed. Was that all she could think of saying.

"Am I making you nervous?" he asked, reading her correctly.

"No, of course not," she lied. "W-well, sit already," she added, fighting to keep her voice steady. He must think her daft. She had been asked on many dates, and yet in his presence she was reacting as if she were a wallflower that someone had finally deigned to ask out.

Dot squared her shoulders, composing herself, remembering she was the girl, and he was the guy asking her. Her voice steadied. "I thought over your offer and yes, I think I'd enjoy your company—occasionally." She sounded lame to herself. He would probably never ask her out again.

But he surprised her. He sat down opposite her and smiled that disarming smile of his. "Good, I'd like for us to get to know each other better. For starters, allow me to buy you breakfast."

He was polite, his conversation interesting, his eating habits refined, and his smile disarming. Dorothy almost kicked herself. There was that word again. You don't judge a man by his smile, she scolded herself as she walked the half mile beside him on her way to her home. She had refused his offer to drive her, but accepted his offer to walk with her, not trusting him enough yet to feel safe with him alone in a car. She asked him about his occupation.

"Without going into private details that I'm not at liberty to, it's interesting work. I'm there for your Uncle Albert to keep his company trouble free by anticipating legal problems. Advising him his legal obligations and his rights with regard to his employer-employee labor relations. Keeping him current on new business laws and regulations, such as employee contracts, tax issues, etc.." He added, as an afterthought, "Although I do plan one day to open up my own practice."

"What made you go into law," Dot asked.

Theo laughed. "Believe it or not, it was reruns of a legal drama TV series. Specifically, Andy Griffith portraying "Matlock". I realized as I began studying law, that most of the court room drama would probably never hold up in a real court of law, but the fairness and the justice the fictitious lawyer applied to each of his cases, made me feel there was hope for our legal system. And in my minor way, I wanted at least the opportunity to make a difference."

Dot couldn't take her eyes off him. Was he for real? Never had she heard any of her suitors express themselves as he did. Certainly, should she ever seriously need legal representation, he would be her first choice.

"I like your outlook," Dot said. "I hope life treats you well and gives you the opportunities to make a difference."

Theo smiled. "It's treated me well up to now, including allowing me to walk you home."

Dot felt her heartbeat quicken. No, not yet, she warned herself. Don't be so quick to decide. She gave herself a mental shake.

They had reached the edge of the driveway that lead to her home's liberal front lawn. Dot stopped and turned to thank him for walking her home. Theo asked, "May I call on you this evening? Dinner? You can ask me some more questions," he said with that teasing slightly impudent grin she had begun not quite to dislike so much. Still she paused, not ready yet to admit to him her interest. Theo added, "Or you might allow me to ask some questions?"

He made her laugh. For certain, he must think she was giving him the third degree. And he still wanted to see her again.

He said cupping her arm, "Let me walk you to your door."

Trying to keep the mood light, Dot said in a jovial tone, "I'll have to ask my patron saint, what she advises." She pointed to the life-size sculpture of Saint Dorothy on the front lawn.

Rather than keep the mood light, her words suddenly cast a shadow on his brow. Dot added hesitantly, "She's always been there for me, my go-between I call her, to Jesus and Mary—to God," her voice trailed to a whisper. Theo's expression a moment ago so warm and friendly, had soured.

"You believe in God?" he asked, deadly serious in a grim tone that clearly mocked.

"Of course," she stated. My family and I have always relied on Him, in good times and in bad. I don't mean that we presume on getting what we want," she added, feeling she needed to defend her faith under the dark expression that had entered Theo's gaze. "The good Lord knows what's best for us. Don't you believe in God?" she asked.

"No."

Dot felt as though the edge of a pronged hammer had just pulled her heartstrings.

Theo saw the shock on her face. "I believe in relying on myself, not on foolish ancient myths." The dark cloud on his face lifted as he took her hand in his. "Religious beliefs is not one of my best topics," he told her.

They had reached the saint's statue. "Go on, ask your patron saint's advice, although by now she may not be too keen on our dating."

Dot's gaze flew to the lovely pale alabaster face of her patron saint. The artist had sculpted her smiling childlike, a gentle reverence in her eyes. She remembered asking Saint Dorothy on the morning of the feast day celebration for a miracle.

She turned back to Theo, her hand captured in his. "She advises me to see you again." On impulse, she asked, "What's Theo stand for?"

He gazed at her askance, but replied, "My parents were into ancient languages, and they had a penchant for old names. They christened me, Theophilus."

Dot's eyes widened. She controlled her gasp. Determinedly and with a teasing smile of her own, she told him, "Most definitely. She advises me to see you again."

CHAPTER FOUR

Later that evening, Dot lay pensively in bed under the warmth of the percale sheets and the flowered comforter. She had raised the white embossed shade and parted the rose lace curtains to give her a full view of the star-studded sky and the crescent moon. Her thoughts were on Theo and the possibility that Saint Dorothy had answered her prayer. It could also be a mere coincidence, but she had always kept an open mind when it came to the supernatural. She had, after all, asked for a miracle.

Theo and she had made a casual date for the following weekend, starting on Saturday morning with breakfast and then a trip to the planting fields arboretum where a flower festival was in full swing. And if all went well, dinner at a plush restaurant they both favored.

She liked him, no doubt in her mind about it. He was interesting to listen to, and he appeared to enjoy listening to her, a trait in men that up to now, she had rarely encountered. All of him appealed to her, his looks, his eyes, his smile, his whole presence and respectful manner. Only one thing she found frightening, his open disbelief in a Creator. The way his expression had darkened and mocked when she mentioned her devotion to Saint Dorothy, go-between to Jesus and Mary—to God."

Her patron saint had known many such persons in her lifetime during the reign of the Emperor Diocletian who mercilessly persecuted anyone who refused to pay homage to his gods. She was a chaste and beautiful maiden of noble lineage deeply devoted to her Christian faith in the Son of the Creator—Christ, who had died on the Cross to open the Gates of Heaven to his followers, to those who practiced kindness and mercy even to their enemies. Sought after by many suitors, Dorothy of Caesarea, preferred to remain a virgin and promised herself entirely to Christ and her faith alone. But an official of high importance burned with love of her beauty and meekness and chastity. He did her the highest honor he knew of and asked for her hand in marriage, ready to bestow upon her his worldly goods and riches. But his love for her did not extend beyond his own needs and vanity. When she refused him and all his riches, earnestly telling him of her promise to remain a virgin, having promised herself totally to Christ, and her belief in the one true God, his anger and hurt pride pushed him to denounce her as a Christian.

Dot closed her eyes and prayed to find the right words to open Theo's mind to the truth she firmly believed—the existence of God and his love. She did understand how easy it was to reject the idea of a benevolent being in the violent times they both lived in. But to her the belief in man's freedom of choice made perfect sense. Evil too, was a matter of free choice, although its temptations insidious. The difference was that God asked. Evil demanded. The path to the Lord was not easy as the path to evil. Only the final destination showed the results. Her patron saint had endured unspeakable tortures and finally martyrdom by beheading. But her sufferings and death had led her to the Lord's garden of beauty and peace and his light and love, for all eternity. How did she convince Theo when he was a man of the world, schooled in logic and the world's demands. And she wanted to convince him of the beliefs to which she adhered. Because the more she thought of him, the more she felt he was the one for whom she had been waiting.

Her patron saint had chosen to dedicate herself body and soul to her redeemer. Dot had long ago dedicated her mind and spirit, but she wanted to live a more average life, not any less holy, but filled with companionship, love and children. That was her vocation, she felt certain. And being in Theo's company, reinforced the feeling. To her, marriage was a union of body and soul, with both parties in each other's arms looking up in the same direction. She desired all the ecstasy of the physical love between a man and a woman, as well as the ecstasy of the spiritual love between two soul mates acknowledged and blessed by the good Lord in the bond of wedlock. If the modern era called her old fashioned and a prude, out of sync with the rest of the modern world, she didn't care. This was her life and she chose the peace of mind and spirit that could be hers, if she followed her beliefs.

She was surprised at herself for entertaining such intimate sentimental thoughts about Theo when they had only begun dating. Perhaps it might all come to nothing; perhaps she was reading more into his company than was actually there. Dot sighed. It all remained to be seen, the outcome of their time together.

Dot touched her forehead, her chest, and each shoulder in the Sign of the Cross—In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen. Her last thought as sleep gently swept her into its embrace, was that the lawyer who had mocked the chaste virgin as she stood trial for her Christianity, the lawyer who in some stories about her was the rich young man who wished to marry her, the rejected suitor, the same individual who was eternally linked with Saint Dorothy in all the legends about her, was named Theophilus.

CHAPTER FIVE

Theo loosed his shirt collar and tie and stretched tiredly, unable to contain a yawn. It had been a long day and the case he was researching regarding an employee who claimed he had been injured while working on a construction site for Uncle Albert, was proving more and more suspicious. The employee had reported the injury after the fact. The doctors' reports were also dated several weeks after the claimed injury. Uncle Albert, as Theo was favored to call him because of their long association, was an honest man. He never denied help or monetary compensation to an employee who was hurt on the job. He utilized the most up to date safety measures available. In fact, that was one of Theo's duties, to make sure his employer's company safety standards were the best. But this particular injury case smacked of duplicity. The employee had sued the company. Albert had refused to offer the employee a settlement until he could prove beyond a doubt that the back injury was sustained on the job

Theo shook his head. His shoulder muscles ached from the hours today spent bent over employee files and law books. He rubbed his neck and glanced at his watch. It was Friday, and after seven. Tomorrow morning he was to pick up Dot at her home for their planned day together. Though in his speech and behavior toward her he acted reserved and matter of fact, trying not to seem over-eager, he was eager and excited to have won her interest. She had no idea of how long he had wanted to approach her, but afraid she might brush him off as she had other admirers. He stayed well out of sight whenever she visited Uncle Albert, keeping his office door slightly ajar so he could see her, without being seen.

Uncle Albert's invitation to her feast day celebration had afforded him the opportunity to look his best and finally approach her. Butterflies in his stomach and his heartbeat quickening, he had put on the air of a suave and debonair, devil-may-care attitude, expecting her to greet him politely and move on.

By some unexpected miracle—well, perhaps it had been the champagne—he didn't believe in miracles; in fact, he didn't believe in anything supernatural. There was a logical answer for anything that appeared unexplainable. Science would eventually explain it all.

Despite his non-belief, he had been reared in a devout Catholic atmosphere. His parents had weekly taken him to Mass and religious functions, but once he transferred to his College dorm, and saw the various aspects of real life, his attitudes and beliefs underwent a major transformation. One dogma he kept—stay away from drugs, and anti-depressants. He preferred to work out his problems logically and scientifically. If he could not find a logical and scientific solution that did no harm to anyone, then he simply walked away from what was causing the problem.

He played it cool with Dot on purpose, not pressuring her, or showing any eagerness; leaving it up to her to call him if she cared to see him again. After a week, unhappily, he'd come to the conclusion, she probably didn't even remember talking to him. And then he'd found her number listed on the missed calls. No message, but luckily his ID service listed the phone numbers of missed calls.

Recalling the shocked look on Dot's face at his reply that he did not believe in God, he gave a warm-hearted chuckle, devoid of criticism, but full of exasperation, as one would chuckle at a child's belief in an imaginary friend. Surprisingly, despite the shock on her face when he mentioned his disbelief in God, she had responded favorably to his continued show of interest.

Theo stood up and closed the thick law book and manila files, and placed them on the desk-side bin. He needed to clear his head and get a good night's rest, so he could be at his best tomorrow. A lot depended on this date. He had won Dot's interest somewhat, but he couldn't yet show what he truly felt. How he wanted to win her favor, and keep her interest in him alive. How he wanted to hold her in his arms. How— He gave himself a mental shake. Woa, hold on, mister! he warned himself. If he kept on this train of thought and followed it to its natural conclusion, it might show through his behavior toward her tomorrow, and he would probably scare her off. He couldn't let her know yet that he was in love with her, that he desired her and wanted a relationship, that he could honestly see himself completely happy with her as his wife, his companion in bed, and the mother of his children. He had better go home and take a very cold shower, he grunted, as he shrugged into his suit jacket and headed out the office door.

CHAPTER SIX

As if granted on cue, Dot woke to a beautiful sun-filled morning with a sprinkling of white fluffy clouds to soften its brightness. Theo was to pick her up at nine for breakfast, which left her barely an hour to get ready. Despite retiring early the night before, she had slept restlessly, until the early hours of dawn, when real sleep had set in. With no time to waste, Dot sprang from bed.

At ten minutes after nine, Theo drove up the driveway and exited his black Ford Hybrid, beeped the remote, setting the alarm, and casually strolled up the walkway to Dot's door. As he pressed the door bell and waited, he chanced to look sideways further back on the lawn at the graceful statue of Saint Dorothy, and the small sculptured angel at her side He noted the basket of apples and roses the saint held. Gifts for the worthy? he thought, smiling with that same touch of whimsical mockery that shadowed his expression whenever the spiritual was mentioned.

He heard Dot's voice from behind the embossed glass panes, "I'll get it. " Her silhouette appeared behind the orchid pattern, and then the door opened and Dot stood before him, a cheery welcoming smile on her lips. "Hi, come in."

Dot moved aside to allow him to enter and closed the door behind him. Theo followed her through the foyer and a side arched opening that led to a wide breakfast nook.

"So there you are," Dot's father greeted with a warm grin. "Sit, have a cup of coffee with us."

Dot's mom joined in. "Yes, do sit, there are extra cups on the table." She moved the coffee pot closer to Theo. "Sugar, cream?" she asked.

"Cream, thank you," Theo replied. He pulled out a chair, then remembering his manners, he motioned to Dot. When she was seated, he took the chair next to her.

"It's nice to meet you," Mary said, handing him the creamer. "My brother-in-law thinks very highly of you and your work."

"I think highly of Albert as well," Theo said. "He's a fair and caring employer. He took a chance on me when I was just out of law school."

"You started out as a clerk," Vincent remembered.

"Yes, during my college years."

"Al said you were the best young man in his employ. You were always punctual and valued accuracy."

Theo smiled, accepting the compliment, but especially at the approval he read in Dot's eyes.

"So how are you two planning to spend the day?" Vincent asked.

Theo said, "Breakfast at Dot's favorite diner, and a visit to the planting fields arboretum. Dot tells me they're having an extended rose and lily flower festival."

"Oh, yes," Mary said, "Vincent and I visited the gardens last week. We spent the whole morning cataloging several new hybrids, and debating which ones we might add to our own stores' collections. Oh, I'm sure you'll have a lovely day. Now's the time to visit the Camellia House, where camellias reach their peak blooms during this month."

"And where do you plan to have lunch?" Vincent asked.

Dot said, "I prepared a picnic basket last night for a light lunch on the grounds.

Her father nodded his approval, adding, "Even if the grass is not yet available to lounge on, there are plenty of benches scattered through the grounds, and plenty of trees for shade, many varieties.

The foursome continued to converse in a pleasant informal way for the next half hour, until Dot expressed her desire to be on their way. She wished at least to walk along the exterior of the Coe Hall Historic House Museum, the Tudor Revival mansion built for the Coes between 1918-1921 over the foundations of their previous home destroyed by fire in the winter of 1918. William Coe's and his second wife Mai's interest in rare species of trees and plant collections made the 409 acre estate a botanical marvel.

"If we leave now," Dot said," we will also have time to visit the Camellia House that Mom suggested, and stroll through the awakening gardens; this being mid February the Park closes at five.

"Yes," Theo concurred. And I've made reservations at the Miller Ridge Inn for Dinner at six.

CHAPTER SEVEN

During breakfast at the same diner of their previous encounter, Theo and Dot kept their conversation light and limited to their backgrounds and the weather.

"We were lucky to miss Earl's full impact," Dot said, speaking of the hurricane that had recently skirted the East Coast.

"Yes, we were, although my brother-in-law lost his sailboat despite how securely he'd tied it down." Theo winced inwardly. He sounded stilted. Dot must be wondering why she ever accepted to spend the day with him.

"Hopefully he had insurance coverage?" Dot asked, wincing inwardly at her own superfluous remark, adding before Theo could answer, "In any case he's lucky he has a corporate lawyer for a brother-in-law to advise him on collecting insurance." What was the matter with her; why was she finding it so difficult to keep up the conversation? Why was she feeling so nervous? "Does his policy cover hurricane damage?" she asked weakly.

"Most U.S. Boat policies are All Risk policies that cover all external causes of loss—hurricane, flood, sinking, theft, fire, collision, etc., except for causes specifically excluded," Theo explained.

She didn't blame him when he fell silent as they finished their omelets, toast and juice. Her normal wit and conversation skills were sadly failing her this morning. Neither could she help notice that he looked relieved as he asked the waitress for the check.

At least the ride to the Arboretum proved pleasant. They managed comments about the scenery, the tightly packed community of small stores, diners, banks and business establishments that lined both sides of the streets in the heart of the town proper. They stopped to gaze at the 12-foot tall sculpture of Theodore Roosevelt - Rough Rider set neatly on a street corner. Renowned sculptor Alexander Phimister Proctor had created the original of this sculpture. The one they were looking at had been made from the original casting. It portrayed Roosevelt on horseback in his uniform as Lt. Colonel of the famous 1st U.S. Volunteer Cavalry Regiment known as the "Rough Riders," a unit he helped raise to fight in the Spanish-American War and then helped lead in battle, including the famous charge up San Juan Hill.

Entering a side road marked with white and green signs directing to the Arboretum, they coasted along the winding, gently sloped two-way road that led to the Planting Fields.

Dot would remember this day as the day she fell truly in love for the first time in her life. Walking beside Theo over the tree, shrub and flower studded magnificent grounds, she felt like a princess beside a handsome, witty, intelligent and sensitive prince. No, Not Prince Charming. She had long left the fairytale behind her. Her parents, who continued very much in love, had often warned her during her highly impressionistic teen years about the overstated and often unreal expectations with which some of the modern romance novels filled their readers' minds. Some romance authors told the truth without embellishing it with the unreal, illogical, often ridiculous—the authors who wrote about the sensitive and beautiful union between husband and wife, where the sex act was treated with great gentleness and sensitivity, imbued with feelings of love, admiration and respect between the partners; where the ordinary biological sexual desire was uplifted to the act of love, created and blessed by the Lord.

Yes, Dot, thought, sensually alive as Theo's shoulder brushed hers as they entered the Camellia Greenhouse, through its white doors under the triangular roof, and strolled its stone pathways marveling at the scents and beauty of the myriad collection of camellias in full bloom, from leafy white silky rose-like petals to striped varieties, to pinks and reds and yellows, and mixtures thereof. Past the rectangular pool framed with pink and red camellias, they climbed the double staircase, the railing covered with climbing fig leaves, and hanging Cyclamen pots, that led to a simple balcony against a brick wall that had once connected to an old stable.

Here they paused to admire the view of the camellia bushes and trees, and beds lining the glass paned walls, before climbing down the opposite stairs. It was at this moment that Dot turned to Theo, the scent of the camellias an aphrodisiac sharpening her awareness of his presence, his stature, sophisticated, well-groomed, reserved, yet strong, that strength contained, controlled. He could never be called "cute" or "boyish" or "adorable". Handsome, manly, perhaps—Dot turned away, averting her gaze, frightened of the warmth suffusing her entire self. She had never experienced such intense emotion. Theo gently turned her to face him, cupped her chin and tilted her face up, his eyes gazing softly into hers. Dot felt her heartbeat race and knew without a doubt, inexplicably, that she had fallen in love with Theo.

While the knowledge dispelled the strangeness of being in his presence and the intense joy she felt at his touch, it terrified her, not knowing if he felt the same, if he had fallen in love with her. Was she just a passing date, or was he having a similar physical and emotional reaction to her closeness. All at once, desire to talk with him without reserve, welled up in her. She wanted to tell him about herself, her past, her present, and the future she hoped for. She wanted to know all there was to know about him.

Theo asked, "It's nearly twelve. Shall we get the picnic basket and find a shady spot and enjoy some of that lunch you packed."

Dot nodded. "Yes, I'd like that."

They descended the opposite staircase and walked the short distance to the parking field, retrieved the brown wicker basket and found a carved iron park bench under the shade of an apple tree.

The day was unusually warm for February, the sky clear and the sun at its apex. Theo removed his jacket and Dot her coat. She habitually kept a sweater, beige, embroidered with mini flowers, in the picnic basket, and threw it over her shoulders. Theo helped her spread the yellow cotton tablecloth between them on the seat. She took out the sandwiches and water beverage bottles, and the brownies she had baked, explaining they had nuts in them, in case he was allergic. He wasn't.

They ate with gusto. Theo complimented her on the brownies. One of his favorite desserts. "My mom liked to bake."

Dot sensed the sadness in the brief statement. She waited for him to say more. When he didn't, she asked, "Your mom and dad?"

"They died several years ago."

Again, he offered no further information.

"Were you close?" she had to ask.

"Very." Theo replied, painfully.

Dot thought of her own parents, and how painful it would be if they were not still with her. "I'm so sorry," she said, touching his arm.

"My mom and dad would have liked you." Theo said. "They were a lot like your parents—friendly and warm-spirited."

"Like you, Theo," Dot said, and then wondered if she was showing her feelings too soon.

"Well, thank you," Theo replied, and chuckled good-naturedly when Dot blushed and lowered her gaze. She was so lovely, he thought, drinking in the soft contours of her face, her eyes, her lips, her chin. Everything about her was beautiful. She seemed to like him, so far. But how did he go about winning her heart? He couldn't just come out and say, "I love you, I've loved you for the longest time. I want you to be my wife." He'd scare her away and make a fool of himself to boot. He was no young man straight out of college. He was a grown man, and maybe even a bit too old for her. "Enough about me," he said. "Let's talk about you."

Dot smiled.

CHAPTER EIGHT

And when they had finished eating, put away the tablecloth and drawn closer, talk she did, about her eight years in parochial grammar and four years in high school, and her two years at Pace College.

She showed Theo a picture from her wallet of herself at age fourteen. She purposely kept it with her to remind her of what eating the wrong foods, lack of exercise and not bothering with portion size, had done to her body over the years. Once in high school, where certain heartless girls who had no weight problems criticized and heckled and teased, Dot had confronted her weight problem head on.

"You were still lovely," he said in earnest, looking at the photo.

"You're too kind," Dot replied, closing her slim wallet and replacing it in her slacks side pocket. "I was fat, unsure of myself, tiring easily, lonely and frightened. I'm not that girl anymore!"

No, no she wasn't. Theo pondered. That girl, he could have easily told how much he cared for her, without fear that she would think him presumptuous for harboring the hope that she might fall for him.

"Tell me," he asked, "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Dot eyed him curiously, wondering what had spurred him to ask that question. He waited for her reply. Dot said, "Attraction at first sight, perhaps, but love, real love, that takes time to develop."

"A wise reply," Theo complimented. "I wonder, have you ever experienced what you call real love?"

Dot glanced away. She might be big on concepts, but the truth was that except for the love for her parents— "No, truthfully, no. A few infatuations during my teens, but I outgrew them as I matured."

"Well, tête-à-tête," she started to ask, but before she could form the first word, Theo said, smiling, "Yes, I have experienced real love, the kind that never lessens, never dies. The kind that begins with a glance, then a second glance to reassure that what one thought he saw, really was what he saw. A love that grows moment by moment, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year." He paused, gazing fully into her upturned face.

If he lowered his head another inch, their lips would meet, and he might kiss her, but he didn't.

Dot asked, "Who was she? that could inspire such love?" When he hesitated answering, and realizing she had no right to pry, she quickly added, "Did she love you back?"

He started to say something, but appeared to think better of it, and simply replied, "Life doesn't always work that way."

He grew silent and Dot understood unhappily that she'd struck a nerve and the tête-à-tête was over.

CHAPTER NINE

They spent the remaining hours walking through the park, visiting the various gardens. Dot thought the Italian sunken Garden, the most serene and inspiring, with its reflecting blue pool, and light aqua colored trim that matched the color of the tiles, and the matching set of steps and colorful Wisteria at each end, as well as fountains and statues within the pool itself, and French ornamental planting urns alongside filled with pink and white camellias.

The most serene and inspiring, and beautiful of the gardens, after the Rose Gardens, that is. By the end of June and beginning of July, The Rose arbor, would hang overhead, heavy and exotically fragrant with hundreds of roses in full bloom, and brides and groom in gowns and tuxes would stroll and pose beneath it for the picture of a lifetime.

They ended their tour by visiting the main Greenhouse displaying bountiful collections of tall stemmed Hydrangeas, Orchids—blue, rose, yellow, brown, and bridal white; and Ferns, Begonias, and succulents—Cactus beginning to break their winter dormancy and opening their colorful blooms. And lastly, the experimental hybrids that Dot's mom had praised, the Lily-Roses, beautiful upright cup-shaped, bright pink curved petals on tall stems with thick pointed leaves.

Before leaving the arboretum, they stopped at the Gift Shop in the Visitor's Center to purchase some memento of their visit. Dot chose a soft blue vase hand-painted with mini images of pink roses. She opened her wallet to pay for the vase, when Theo's hand closed over hers. She turned as he shook his head. "My treat," he said, with a warm smile. To the woman behind the computerized sales register, he said, "Please add this to the purchase as well." He placed the flower he held in his other hand on the counter. It was a Calla Rose-Lily.

"For my lady," he said. And again a frown shadowed his brow and he grew silent.

Dot wondered, did the frown and his silence mean that he'd spoken without thinking and had immediately regretted the words and their meaning? My lady? Oh, if only he'd meant it! Dot accepted the flower with downcast eyes, fearing that if he read in her eyes her true joyous reaction to his gift, it would frighten him away.

CHAPTER TEN

Why had he said that! Theo could have kicked himself. If she had begun to take a true interest in him, then by now she had probably decided he was taking too much for granted. For my Lady. No one could have missed the way she refused to look at him directly when she accepted his gift. Her kind nature would not allow her to refuse and hurt his feelings. But tonight would probably be the last time she would accept to go out with him.

The cell phone in the inside pocket of his jacket chimed the beginning bars of "Westminster Cathedral". Theo excused himself to see who was calling. Danny's cell phone number appeared on the screen. He shook his head, frowning, and sighed. But as much as he did not want to be disturbed at the moment, he had to answer. "Please excuse me," he said to Dot. "I have to take this call."

Dot nodded her understanding and moved away, busying herself with checking out other floral accessories to give him privacy.

Theo was on the phone for a few minutes. Dot glanced at him from time to time and noted his expression growing exasperated, then anxious. When he finally snapped shut the phone, she knew something was very wrong. "Has something bad happened?" she asked, as he moved back to her side.

"Dot, can we take a rain check on dinner? Something has come up I need to attend to personally?"

Dot touched his arm consolingly. "Of course, I understand. Is there anything I or my family can do to help?"

Theo's smile always mesmerized her. She swallowed nervously. Why did he have this effect on her? It wasn't wise to fall under his spell so quickly. She didn't know enough about him, or how he actually felt about her. Still when he cupped her chin so gently, she could not quiet the tremor and the metaphoric butterflies in her stomach.

"Thank you, Dot. You and your family are among the kindest folks I know. But this is something best handled by me alone. I'll take you home and call the restaurant to cancel our reservations."

"Okay," Dot nodded, unable to hide the echo of disappointment in her voice.

"I promise, we'll have that dinner date very soon," he said.

She felt cold, already missing the touch of his fingers on her chin.

Theo drove in silence. Dot noticed how he struggled to keep the speedometer from passing the required speed limit. He seemed terribly on edge and in a hurry. She wished he had confided in her. Dear Lord, she prayed silently, please help him. Let nothing untoward be happening to cause him such anxiety.

A gentleman to the last, when they arrived at her home, he exited his side, and came around to open the passenger door and escort her to her entrance.

"Dot, thank you for a lovely day. I'm sorry to have to end it so abruptly. But I meant my promise; we will have that dinner-date very soon," he said. He started to turn away, then turned back, and added, "That's if you want to see me again, after today?"

Dot almost exclaimed, oh yes! Again propriety demanded reserve. "Yes, of course," she reassured him serenely. And all at once she could not restrain herself saying, "Please, make it soon." Oh God! Now I've done it. Here's where he turns tail and runs.

Theo smiled, that unnerving smile with that slight quirk at the side of his mouth. And lowering his face he kissed her ever so gently. "I promise," he said, and for just an instant the heavy cloud that hung about his person, lifted. He nodded, then turned and left.

Dot watched him as he walked back to his car. Just before he drove away, he looked at her once more and waved.

She read about heroines in stories biting their lower lip, thought it ludicrous until she found herself doing just that as she watched him turn into the main road and disappear from view.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Theo raced up the stairs to Danny's second floor flat. The door was locked but he had the spare key that his best friend had given him. He quickly unlocked the door. No one was in the living room or the kitchen, but as Theo had feared, Danny lay supine and unconscious sideways across the bed, his head and arm lolling over the side.

"Oh, Danny, you fool," Theo cried, rushing to his side. "She's not worth it!" he muttered, straightening Danny's torso so that his head rested on the pillow. From the redness and puffiness of Danny's closed eyes, and the pillowcase, rumpled and damp, it was clear he had been sobbing in anguish. "No woman is worth this!" Theo exclaimed, noticing the half-empty bottle of sleeping pills lying on its side on the floor where it had fallen from Danny's insensate hand.

Theo checked Danny's pulse, and put his face near his friend's to check for breathing. "All right, we're still in time," he uttered hopefully. He quickly pulled out his phone and keyed in "911".

On the hospital bed inside the emergency ward, Danny rested, impassive and silent. Theo sat equally quiet on a metal chair near him. What could he say that he had not said before. He had warned his friend that Leanore was trouble—into drugs and promiscuity; nevertheless, Danny had found her irresistible, especially as he had only seen her at her best. As the saying went, she had twisted him around her finger.

With her sad childlike expression, dark beckoning eyes and sweet voice, she had whittled money from him for her drugs, using a faked illness as an excuse. Danny had confided in Theo that he intended proposing. Theo had begged him to look twice. He, himself, had seen through her almost at once, when Danny, in his last year of college, had introduced her at the Christmas Party at Uncle Albert's company where he worked part-time as a clerk, holding Theo's old job. The girl had flirted with every male at the party. Danny, a kindly, laid back, young man, with a very gentle soul, had not seen it that way. He had attributed her flirtations to just her being an exceedingly friendly person, with a ready smile for everyone. And even weeks later, when he finally saw through her facade, he made excuses for her until, drained physically and financially, he had nothing more to give, and she had left him for richer hunting grounds.

Despite her proven character, Danny still loved her and continued to seek her out, and finally found her in the arms of a well-to-do married executive. At least, Theo commiserated, his friend had denounced her in front of her latest paramour, and warned the man about her drug use and her lies and thievery. Leanore's newest conquest had laughed in Danny's face and in hers. Of course he knew about her past. He was no fool. His character appeared no better than Leanore's. "She was good entertainment for the moment," he had scoffed.

This time Lenore may have bitten off more than she could handle. Even she with her devil-may-care attitude, had paled at the indifference and mockery in his voice.

Danny feared for her fate. He'd said as much to Theo. and he had been right to be afraid for her. For a few days later, Leanore's bruised and battered body was found behind a heap of garbage in an alley not far from her apartment. Danny's call to Theo had been a plea for forgiveness that he had not listened to his best friend's advice, and a last goodbye for he could not forgive himself, nor go on living. Crazy as it sounded to Theo, Danny blamed himself for her death, believing that if only his money had not run out, he might have been able to help her overcome her habit and save her.

Theo thought mockingly, so much for belief in God. Danny believed in God and what the Creator stood for, the reason for his kindness and gentle soul.

While in the waiting room, as the doctors strove to save Danny's life, Theo had called the local police and given them the executive's name and his connection to Lenore, as a possible suspect to her murder. Unfortunately, Danny too was suspect. It might yet fall to Theo to defend his best friend's life.

Life resuscitation, stomach pumping, cardiac arrest and life resuscitation again, and Danny was back, whether he wanted to be or not. He lay there staring deadpan at the white ceiling, his arms rigidly at his side, his fists clenched. The hospital psychiatrist had tried in vain to reason with him. And as Danny had no living kin, he had already signed papers to commit him temporarily to a public mental health facility.

Along with the other mentally disturbed, Theo thought angrily.

Danny broke the silence. "Hey, buddy, you still here?"

So absorbed in his worries about his friend, Theo hadn't noticed Danny turn and watch him.

Danny tried to laugh, but his attempt churned a cough instead. He cleared his throat as best he could and managed, "You look worse than me. Why don't you go home and get some rest." At Theo's grim look, he added, his voice shaky, "Don't worry, old friend, I won't try anything stupid; I promise."

"That's not what you told the psychiatrist."

"Yeah, but he was getting on my nerves with that line, you have so much to live for."

"You may not think so, now, but give yourself some time. You'll feel differently, I promise."

"Well, my stomach sure feels differently," he groaned.

"Stomach pumps will do that," Theo said.

Danny tried to smile. But his red-rimmed eyes, glittered with more tears waiting to be shed.

"Tell you what," Theo said. "I have a suggestion. I think I can keep you out of the mental ward."

"Yeah, how?"

"How would you like to stay at my place for a while?"

Danny's brow furrowed, but he didn't argue. His mouth clenched as if holding back the despair he felt, then relaxed with a deep sigh of resignation. "All right, Theo. That's if you can talk that psychiatrist into letting me go."

"I'm a lawyer, aren't I?"

Danny smiled. "Sure, Matlock!"

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dot sat in the diner booth gazing forlornly at the empty seat opposite her, the omelet and coffee in front of her turning cold. It was two weeks since her date with Theo had ended abruptly. And despite his promise to see her again, she had heard nothing further from him. She could, of course, have easily called him, but what good would that do her. If he was interested in her, he would have called, she told herself each time she was tempted to dial his number. For all she knew, that phone call might have been arranged for him to end the date with her without humiliating her with the fact that he had lost interest. After all, it would not do to antagonize his employer's niece. Yet, with that same thought, she felt he had meant it when he promised to see her again, and the anxiousness she had read on his face, had been sincere. Could she be such a poor judge of character?

There was a way she might be able to inquire about Theo without his knowledge, or appearing grasping. If she visited her uncle at his office, even this she'd held off doing, hoping that in the interim Theo would call her. She drummed nervous fingers on the tabletop, her lips compressed into a frown. It was risky; Theo might guess her real reason for visiting Uncle Albert. But so what! What was the matter with her? Perhaps because she was used to being the one sought after, the one deciding if she wanted to go out or not. And for the first in her young life, she wanted to see more of her date. Oh, face it, she chided herself. You've fallen for him. Something you promised you'd never do in such a short time. For heaven's sake!

Yes, for heaven's sake, she thought, holding back tears. Yes, that was the only place she could turn to at this moment.

She called the waitress over and asked for her bill.

Was something wrong with the food, the woman asked, noticing the omelet and the coffee hardly touched.

"No, not at all. I'm not feeling well this morning. Honest. It-It's just one of those mornings." Dot tried to smile despite the gulp in her throat.

The waitress hurried to her computerized station and printed out the bill, but before she could bring it to Dot, the manager who had been watching, intercepted her. "What's wrong?

"She doesn't feel well. Said it had nothing to do with the meal."

"Okay, give me the bill."

"Was anything wrong with the food?" he asked Dot.

"No!" she said more adamantly than she intended. Attempting to calm her rattled nerves, she said in a softer tone. "Honestly, everything was fine. I'm just having a bad morning."

"Well, in that case, the meal's on us. Please feel better," the manager said in earnest. Dot was a steady customer whose patronage he wished to keep.

Growing embarrassed as some of the customers were picking up on the conversation and turning to look, Dot nodded, wanting only to leave and be alone with her misery. "I'm so sorry. I-" She slid from the booth, grabbed her coat from the coat hook on the side of the booth, and hurried out.

On her way home, she passed her parish church, Our Lady of the Rosary. The daily 10:30 Mass was just beginning. I need guidance, she thought, and some quiet time in the presence of the Lord.

Dot's quiet time was after the Mass had ended and only a few steadfast parishioners remained, like herself, seeking a peaceful moment to share with the Lord their joys and their sufferings; to unburden their souls of the worries and fears, and listen to His advice as He spoke silently to their hearts.

Her special place was at the foot of the statue of Our Lady of Fatima, adorned in white vestments trimmed in gold, her hands folded in prayer, the Holy Rosary hanging gracefully from her wrists, cascading down the folds of her tunic. Dot loved the expression on this image of Jesus' Mother. It was sweet and gentle, smiling down at whoever knelt at her feet. Sometimes, when Dot unburdened her worries about her future, the Lady's face seemed to smile at her as a mother smiles at her child's innocent antics and confusion, a child who has yet to grow and become wise.

"Say the Rosary every day. Pray, pray a great deal and make sacrifices for sinners, for many souls go to hell because they have no one to pray and make sacrifices for them." Dot thought of Theo and his proclaimed disbelief of the Lord. "Dearest Mother, I want to see him again. Is there any hope for us?

The word "Rosary" meant Crown of Roses. Our Lady had revealed to several people that each time they say a Hail Mary they are giving her a beautiful rose and that each complete Rosary makes her a crown of roses. The rose is the queen of flowers, and so the Rosary is the rose of all devotions and it is therefore the most important one.

Dot took out her rosary and began to pray. And as she prayed, she silently listened, and soon her spirit swelled with faith and she knew that in the end, somehow, it would all work out.

Theo called her the following morning, and apologized for the delay in contacting her again. He'd had to deal with a family crisis. He didn't explain further, but when she asked if everything was okay now, he assured her that there was hope. The finality in his voice stopped her from asking more. But she did add, "I'll keep praying for you and your loved ones. The Good Lord will see you through the rough spots."

The silence on the other end of the line reaffirmed Theo's views on The Good Lord.

"Theo?" Dot asked, wondering if he was still on the phone.

"I'm here. For all your good intentions, thank you, Dot."

"Is there anything I can do at all?"

After another pause, Theo said, "Maybe there is. Do you know of any decent young woman who would like to double-date with us and a good friend of mine?"

She wondered if he meant "Danny," the name of the caller she had seen on his cell phone before he had left their date abruptly.

"Yes, I do. A close friend of mine. We grew up together, attended the same schools. Her name is Ruth."

"All right, then, let's set up a time and place."

"How about a movie and a light repast afterwards," Dot suggested.

"Sounds good. Let me know time and place. Make it soon, Dot." A hesitant pause and "You do want to see me again, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Dot replied sincerely.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The movie, The Seventh Veil, a mid-1940s classic released in England and starring a young James Mason and Ann Todd, had garnered an Oscar for screenplay and was considered what is now referred to as a "sleeper". A romance, with a background of the most beautiful classical piano music, showed the story of the heroine, Francesca (Ann Todd) an orphaned piano prodigy sent to live with her second cousin Nicholas (James Mason - the hero). It began with Francesca attempting suicide and her psychiatrist, Doctor Larsen (Herbert Lom) attempting to discover her reasons by hypnosis. The title referred to the seven veils a mind hides behind. Her second cousin and guardian Nicholas was an established bachelor, a young, handsome, but somber, brooding man, estranged from women because of his mother who had left her husband and him when he was 12 years old and run away with her lover. The twelve-year-old had been required to testify at the divorce.

At first, Nicholas ignored his fourteen-year-old ward. Ann Todd, but when he discovered her talent for music he never left her side and (sort of like Svengali) molded her into a famous concert pianist. By age 24, Francesca was famous, but a recluse. Her first love was her music, but Nicholas held a strange power over her. As the movie progressed, it was clear that the controlling, brooding Nicholas, who often appeared cold-hearted was in love with her. Enter two other men through the years who fell in love with her.

The ending had not completely defined who Francesca truly ended up, although she ran to the arms of Nicholas at the end. Dot had searched high and low for a novelization of the movie and found one available in England. It had been written in the mid 1940s. It had cost her only $15, and at last after years of wondering, yes, Francesca had definitely ended up with the hero, the man she truly loved. The novelization even went into Nicholas' thoughts as well, so a lot of questions were finally answered for her.

The movie, set in an era so different from the present with regard to women's and men's roles in society, sparked varied emotions between the two couples.

"Mason plays the Svengali part mesmerizingly, Svengali with a heart," Dot said.

"Well, without the heart, he would have been the villain," Ruth said.

"I liked him," said Theo. He didn't look for compassion, and as he himself said, he wouldn't be foolish enough to expect forgiveness from anyone but himself.

Danny was quiet. Theo asked, "What did you think of Nicholas and Francesca?"

Danny smiled. He wondered if the fact that the heroine had tried to commit suicide at the beginning of the movie, had anything to do with the choice of the film. Even so, the threesome waiting for his reply, prompted him to say, "I think they both had very generous hearts that were pummeled and dragged through heartache. If the man seemed heartless and sadistic at first, the case was the opposite. As a child his love had been rejected and when he finally dared to love again, he was on the brink of new rejection."

"And Francesca?" Theo asked,

"She was confused and afraid, and desperate to be acknowledged and loved."

To Theo, Danny's reply made perfect sense. To Dot and Ruth who didn't know about his suicide attempt, it wasn't as clear, although it was clear to them that Danny had a sensitive soul and the movie had touched a nerve. The young man was hiding a pain of his own.

"You're absolutely right," Dot said. "That's why it's one of my favorites. I first saw a rerun of this film as a teen on a television movie classics station and never forgot it. It's really the story of a tortured soul reaching out to a terribly lonely one."

Ruth studied Danny's face. And she felt a pang of compassion for this handsome, lanky, tall young man. Florence Nightingale Syndrome, here I go again, she thought. Hopefully this one wasn't putting on an act, like her ex-boyfriend, who knew exactly how to wrap her around his finger. Luckily, like Dot, she had been brought up deeply religious by her strict but loving parents, and had refused to sleep with him before marriage. When he had finally realized that his act of being the one hurt by her denial was never going to work, he had quickly dropped her from his mind and his address book.

Love can blind you, Ruth had learned, and in her case, it had taken long tear-drenched nights to realize her ex- was a soulless narcissist.

Dot glanced at Theo and then at Danny. "Danny, I think you understood the theme of the movie best of all us."

Theo nodded.

Ruth said blithely, "Nicholas was the quintessential romance novel ruthless anti-hero who learned to love and trust again."

Theo concluded, chuckling, "And in his case, it was not yet too late, so he got the girl."

"Here, here," Dot exclaimed. "Anybody hungry?"

"I'm starved," Ruth answered.

"Yeah, me too," Danny said, for the first time in a long while, without the sadness that had tainted his features and his voice.

Yes, Ruth thought, this young man had suffered, like herself. Acting on the impulse that made Ruth who she was, she took his hand companionably in hers, and was rewarded by a gentle smile.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dot sprang out of bed and ran to her casement window. She'd had this window put in special, after seeing it in an 18th century inn that she had visited during a vacation further upstate. The double framed window with criss-crossed white aluminum strips that framed diamond shaped glass panes, was hinged at the sides, and opened inward. Dot unlatched the lock at the center and pulled the two sides toward her, and shivered and laughed at the same time as the cold brisk air prickled her skin under the cotton nanny nightgown.

"It's snowing!" she yelped, viewing the huge flakes streaming haphazardly down from the white sky. 'We're having a white Christmas," she whispered happily. And this was to be an especially wonderful Christmas. Theo had proposed and she had accepted. At the family gathering this afternoon, she would introduce her fiancé.

Danny and Ruth arrived shortly after dinner, having spent the main part of the day with Ruth's parents. They had been dating steadily since Theo and Dot had brought them together. When they entered Dot's foyer, Theo saw them first. He grinned, marveling at the difference in his young friend's appearance. From the despairing, undernourished, malcontented youth who had tried to kill himself, now stood a young man beaming with hope, well-fed, and loving, and loved. Ruth was responsible for his regeneration. Uncle Albert was also responsible for the warmth and joy radiating from Danny's smile. He had held Danny's job secure while the young man convalesced. All sharing hugs and handshakes, family and friends exchanged warm and heartfelt greetings.

It had been a trying year, especially when the police had placed Danny on the suspect list for Lenore's murder. Danny implicating the well-to-do married executive at first had fallen on deaf ears. But Theo and Uncle Albert had hired a private investigator, sparing no expense, and finally photos and witnesses had surfaced to prove without a doubt the real killer. Cleared and his reputation restored, and with Ruth offering her shoulder and her companionship, Danny had been back in his apartment and at his job for the past six months, and doing well.

At times in the still of the night, Theo would wake and be afraid that all the hope and joy illuminating his life at this time, might suddenly explode into darkness. He never voiced this fear, especially not to Danny, who had just regained his life. Theo knew from where the fear came. While he was finishing his studies, his parents had died unexpectedly; his father from a heart attack, and his mother, six months later. In her case, the doctors had blamed pneumonia, but Theo knew she had died of a broken heart. Without consciously acknowledging it, she had lost the will to live.

Their loss had cemented his steadily growing disbelief in a loving and merciful God. He had found too much conflict between the study of science and law and belief in God, a myth, filed under all the myths that humans clung to in order to avoid the truth that suffering and oblivion eventually claimed all.

Dot and he had spent many hours of their courtship arguing about his atheism. She believed in God, in angels, in saints, in miracles, perhaps, he thought, because she had never really known true unhappiness. If there was any miracle he could attest to, at least in a physical sense, it was the fact that she had returned his affection. To this very day, he could not fathom why, when there were so many handsomer, richer, more eligible suitors lined up to court her, suitors who shared her belief in God. But love him, she did, and when he had knelt on one knee and proposed, sure that she would refuse him—gently of course, she was the kindest person he had ever known—instead, her eyes wide with tears, she had knelt down beside him, and accepted, such love radiating from her smile and her tears, that he'd thought he would die from the ecstasy of that love, and from the knowledge that one day soon, they would belong to each other completely. No wonder, the fear he felt when he happened to wake at times during the night. To lose this happiness would be unbearable and destroy him.

"Are you okay," Dot's sweet voice brought him back.

"I'm fine," he said, smiling at his beloved. She was so lovely, especially tonight, in her mint green long sleeved blouse and grey slacks, her shoulder length hair curling loosely about her temples and flushed cheeks.

The family gathering attire was casual—comfortable dress slacks, blouses, shirts and pullovers.

"You seemed lost in thought. Are you happy, Theo?"

"Too happy, sweetheart. It scares me," he admitted.

"I know life is a trickster," Dot repeated a quote Theo had used over the past few months, as he told her about his past, about the death of his parents. "My darling," she urged, "We are already in love. Life can't take that away from us. The miracle has already happened."

Theo laughed, "Sweetheart, it's no miracle. I've been in love with you for years." And anticipating her next remark, "And you chose me when you were six years old. All perfectly natural occurrences."

Dot didn't argue, but her eyes showed him the disappointment she felt, each time he confirmed his disbelief.

"Dot, Theo, come, coffee is ready," Mary called to her daughter and her son-in-law to be. "Ale, Tony, gather everyone to the table," Mary beckoned to her children. She motioned to Ruth and Danny. "Vincent, husband," she summoned with a laugh.

Soon all were sipping coffee or tea and enjoying slices of various pies, and cakes and Italian Biscotti.

Mary quietly turned to Vincent. "You know what's missing," she whispered wistfully.

Vincent glanced at her askance. Everyone they had invited was here.

Mary gazed at Dot and Ale and Tony in turn. "Grandchildren," she whispered. "We're all adults here. There's no little ones running about."

Placing his arm about his wife's shoulders, Vincent hugged her close to his side. "One miracle at a time," he said, smiling reassuringly.

Towards nightfall, hugs and kisses and well wishes were exchanged again as family members well fed on good food and warm companionship, began to leave to return to their own homes. Dot shrugged into a sweater and with Theo who felt warm enough in his blue shirt and beige v-neck pullover, walked with Ruth and Danny part of the way to their cars, Ruth and Dot drifted a little away from their men.

"You and Danny look so good together," Dot said. "And he seems to be smitten with you, the way he looks at you, and hardly ever leaves your side."

Ruth sighed. "Yes, he's told me he loves me, and asked me to be his girl months ago. But he never speaks of any future plans. I'm hoping that with your engagement, maybe it will inspire him to—"

"Give him time, Ruth. He needs to fully regain his confidence. Uncle Albert says he's doing wonderful at the office. Theo says he's never had a better assistant. Theo plans to branch out on his own in a few years. And Danny could be next in line to take over as soon as he graduates law school."

"That's a long time," Ruth said. "I think Danny needs me now. I'd marry him tomorrow if he asked me. I need him."

Dot placed her arm about Ruth's shoulders and hugged her. "Then maybe you should broach the subject. At least ask him how serious is about you. And if his answer is favorable, then open your heart to him and tell him how much you want him to be your husband."

"But I'm afraid I'll scare him off."

"No, Ruth, not if he truly loves you. Have you ever thought that maybe he's afraid of scaring you off."

They had reached the cars, and Theo and Danny were coming up behind them.

Ruth hugged Dot once more, and whispered in her ear, "Thanks, Dot."

When Danny had driven off with Ruth, Theo and Dot strolled about the snow-dusted lawn, not wanting yet to say goodnight. Theo closed his arm about Dot, drawing her closer.

In full agreement, Dot wrapped her arm about his waist and snuggled closer. How warm and wonderful it felt cuddled against his side. At times it took all of her modesty and moral upbringing not to give in to her body's desire to share herself completely with him. But no, not until they'd exchanged their marriage vows before God and man.

"It will be wonderful when we can finally not have to say goodnight, and just retire to our own home," she said.

Theo didn't reply immediately, then in an explosive breath, "Dot, I want you so much, it's a physical pain. Are you sure you can't, won't?"

Dot pulled away a bit. "Theo, no. Not that I don't want to. I do want to be completely yours, but not until we've exchanged our vows. Then with God's blessings, I will be entirely yours forever." Trying to lighten the mood, she added, "And Theo, once my repressed desires are let loose, I may shock you, and have you running for cover!" she laughed.

Theo regarded her askance.

Dot realized she may have said too much, and her face grew warm. She dropped her gaze, blushing full pink. "I‒I mean, I‒I'm not ignorant. I‒"

Laughing, Theo drew her into his arms. "Stop talking," he said, good-naturedly. "I know exactly what you mean. And I love you, and respect you all the more for it, my dearest sweet love."

They strolled hand in hand back toward the house. Theo paused as they neared the statue of Saint Dorothy. He said, absently, "Have you ever noticed that she looks a bit like you?"

"Well, yes. And there's a reason for that," Dot replied.

Theo gazed at her suspiciously.

"I happen to resemble my grandmother who commissioned this statue. She was not that old at the time. Her name was Dorothea and the sculptor used her face as a model."

"That explains it," Theo said. "I did some research on your patron saint. And I finally understood why your jaw nearly dropped when I answered your question that day, about what Theo stood for. Theophilus, remember?"

"You found me out," she said, smiling. There are so many nuances about our coming together. Coincidences you would call them. But I felt from the beginning that you are my patron saint's reply to my request for a miracle. So many suitors, yet not one touched my heart, until I met you," Dot admitted without reserve. "And he was a lawyer, too," she added, again trying to lighten the mood.

"But they both ended up decapitated for their faith," Theo said, nose wrinkling with a frown.

"In some of the stories told about her, Theophilus was a handsome young pagan who desired her, but she refused his proposal, saying she could not marry a pagan. If he was willing to learn about the Lord and become a Christian, then she would accept his offer and marry him, if it was God's holy will. Theophilus scoffed at her beliefs, and laid all his wealth before her, if she would accept him. When she continued to reject him, angered, he denounced her to the local authorities. This was the third century A.D., a time of terrible persecution of Christians under provost Fabricius, and emperors of Rome, Diocletian and Maximian.

"Dorothea was imprisoned and tortured until she should renounce her faith. But Dorothea endured all the pain for the love of our Lord Jesus. She told her torturers that He waited for her in His garden filled with roses, spices and apples.

"On her way to her execution, Theophilus said to her in scorn, 'Send me some of the roses and apples from the garden of thy Lord thou praisest so much.'

"Dorothea told him serenely, 'I will send you apples and roses from His garden, and then I will wait for you to join me there.'

"It was a frigid winter and heavy snow blanketed the land. Dorothea was beheaded, and as Theophilus returned to his home, a child carrying a basket of apples and herbs and fresh cut roses, approached him, handed him the basket, and disappeared before his very eyes.

Theophilus was converted and died a martyr's death, and went to meet Saint Dorothy in the Heavenly Garden.

"Many years later both Dorothea and Theophilus were canonized and declared saints."

Theo had remained silent, astonished at the zeal with which Dot related the story of her patron saint. As she spoke, her gaze had shifted reverently to the face on the sculpture. No doubt remained in his mind that his Dot believed in the legend with her whole heart. He had come to know that reverent look. He saw it each Sunday at Mass. He accompanied her, simply to be near her. She believed in the Lord, in the transformation of Eucharist into his body and blood. She believed in the Blessed Mother of Christ, and prayed the Rosary daily along with the Chaplet of Saint Faustina that she sang. She had a beautiful soprano voice. Three o'clock was her prayer hour. And on the days he was off from work, he hurried to her side, to sit beside her, though he refused to join her in prayer.

And she did not grow angry with him, or attempt to force him to join her. He loved that about her most. She accepted him as he was, although he knew how strongly she wished him to believe. At times, seeing her features almost glow as she prayed, he would actually entertain the thought that perhaps there was a God after all, and He had sent him Dot as a precious gift. And then another thought would intrude, Life's a trickster, don't be fooled—

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The first official morning of Spring dawned with a beautiful sunrise, tree branches sprouting pale green leaf buds, and flowerbeds burgeoning with dew-kissed crocuses and daffodils. Theo had promised to meet Dot at Church that evening for a special prayer hour before the Blessed Sacrament, to be followed by one of their favorite pastimes—double dating with Danny and Ruth for dinner and a movie. Despite his professed atheism, Theo took every opportunity offered to be near his beloved.

At work, shortly before five, Danny entered Theo's office and closed the door behind him.

"I need to talk to you," Danny said, a frown creasing his brow.

Theo motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He folded the legal document he had been reviewing for Uncle Albert, and put it to the side. "What's on your mind," he asked. He was proud of how far Danny had come since the suicide attempt. He might even add that Ruth was another gift from God to bring love and hope to Danny.

"Ruth proposed to me last night," he said simply.

Theo's eyes widened. Wasn't it the man who did the proposing? But in our present day culture, it was not uncommon. He smiled, knowing how deeply Danny felt for Ruth. "Well, what did you answer?"

Danny stared at his hands, fingers clenched nervously. "Ruth knows how much I care for her. But—I'm not ready yet. Not financially, and," he hesitated, then meeting Theo's gaze head on, "I'm scared," he said honestly. Theo was the only one he opened up to. The man never laughed at him, or made him feel small, or less of a man because of what Theo called, his sensitive soul.

"What are you scared of?" Theo asked. Then anticipating his reply, he added, "She won't turn on you, or leave you. She's not Leanore. And finances can be worked with. You're both gainfully employed. If you save regularly, then in a year or two, you will have enough to start out. You could both live in your apartment. It's large enough, if you hold off having children for a while."

Danny said, "Ruth doesn't believe in contraceptives."

"Danny, contraceptives are not the end-all. There are natural birth control methods, Rhythm method, for instance, that wouldn't go against her religious beliefs."

"And another thing," Theo continued. "You don't need to spend a fortune on a wedding that's over in four hours. The Church and a small gathering of your family and closest friends, one of them hopefully good at taking photographs. Believe me, some of my college friends who are now married with children, regret the thousands of dollars they spent on a lavish wedding. That money could have gone for a down-payment on a home."

Danny lowered his gaze again. "So you think I should accept.

Theo couldn't help saying, "I think you should get on one knee and propose to her."

Danny raised his eyes. "I'm not a coward. I love Ruth. Leanore almost destroyed me. But you and Ruth have restored my confidence. You know, I went to Confession last week with Ruth, and we received Holy Communion the following morning. I've been away from Church for years. Everything you just said to me, I've thought of. I guess I needed confirmation that it's the right path.

He stood up, radiating a new confidence. "The engagement ring will have to be a simple one; at least for now."

"Hey, don't worry. I know this jeweler on the avenue who has some exquisite engagement rings for great prices. I'll go with you. I purchased Dot's ring there, and several of my other gifts to her." Chuckling, Theo added, "I'm one of his best customers. He stood up and came around the desk. "In fact, as I'm not meeting Dot until 8 at Church, how about visiting the jeweler's now?"

"Yeah, let's, before my courage fails," Danny agreed, laughing.

A few minutes to eight, Leo pulled into the Church's parking lot. This was to be a special night for Danny and Ruth. Inside the zippered side pocket of his windbreaker, Danny carried a black velvet ring box that held a half-karat, but flawless diamond set in a white gold band, on a bed of white silk. And tonight he intended accepting Ruth's proposal. By now the two were probably engaged as Danny had gone straight to Ruth's home. Her parents would be happy as well. They liked Danny.

Theo entered through the side entrance and sat in the pew nearest to the front and the altar. This was Dot's favorite sitting place. She liked to be close to the altar and the Blessed Sacrament. The Priest and an altar boy entered from the vestibule on the side of the main altar. The Church was half full. Usually, only the most devoted of the Congregation along with the Nuns of the Parish that taught in the parochial grammar school stood vigil for the hour with the Sacrament. When Theo had voiced his opinion that the consecrated wafer displayed inside the small round glass capsule in the center of the Monstrance, a golden vessel in the shape of a sunburst on a thick stem, was no more than a symbolization of Christ, Dot had staunchly defended her belief that this was no symbol, but the Lord Himself in the form of a wafer. She would not come here and kneel in silent prayer and meditation for an hour just to stare at and worship a floured wafer.

The devotion began, the priest attired in the white and gold chasuble prayed together with the congregation. He climbed the altar steps, and lifting the Monstrance by its stem, turned to the people and blessed them, lifting the vessel before him and then to the right and left, accompanied by the chime of a hand rung bell by the altar boy at each turn. Then he turned back to the altar and placing the Monstrance back down, he stepped down the three steps, and knelt and together with the congregation recited the Litany of the Blessed Sacrament, a series of blessings of God, His Son, and The Holy Spirit, the Blessed Lady, and Saint Joseph. Theo did not join in.

The Priest and the altar boy left the altar and returned into the sacristy. Now the congregation would sit and silently adore and pray to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.

It was past 8:30 and Dot had not shown. Something must have come up, but she would have called. Theo opened his cell phone and dialed hers. No answer, no ringing at all. Theo felt strangely uncomfortable. Unconsciously, he raised a questioning glance to the Sacrament and his mind whispered, where is she? He became aware of what he had just done.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Theo steered the car off the main road and into the private road leading to Dot's home. The first thing he noticed as he entered the wide driveway on the side of the house, was that both Dot's parents' cars and those of her siblings were missing. The night-lights flanking each side of the decorative glass-paned double doors were turned on, but the house was eerily silent. He rang the bell. No one answered. After a fourth try, he knocked anxiously. Something was wrong. A chill ran up his spine. He took out his cell phone and tapped in Dot's number once more. Again, silence.

Dot had given him her parents' numbers in case he couldn't reach her. He called Dot's mom. The phone rang three times and, mercifully, the line clicked open at the other end. Mary's voice sounded haggard as she answered. She already knew it was him from the Caller ID.

"Theo, we were just going to call you. We just got to the hospital."

"Hospital! What's wrong? Where's Dot?"

A woman's sob rent the line, followed by Vincent's voice. "Theo, Dot's been in serious accident."

"Is she all right?" Theo scoffed at his own question. Of course she wasn't all right? "I mean, what––" His heart hammered as he tried to speak coherently.

"Come down to the emergency room right away." Theo could hear the tremor in Vincent's voice and sense the control the man desperately exercised as he named the hospital and asked if Theo needed directions.

"I know how to get there. I'm coming. Tell Dot, I'm coming!" He hardly realized he was shouting.

All the way to the hospital, as he exercised his own desperate control to avoid speeding and risking more delay if he had to stop for a traffic officer, the phrase kept repeating in his mind, "Life is a trickster— Life is a trickster— Life is a trickster—

Theo parked his car in the first available space, too much in a hurry to reach Dot's side, to search for a space closer to the emergency doors. He barely remembered to lock the car, as he rushed toward the emergency entrance. The receptionist directed him to a waiting room where Dot's siblings sat with drawn faces. Ale's eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Tony sat beside her on the second row of interlinked grey resin and metal chairs, his jaw tight, his hands clenched.

"What happened? How she is?" Theo asked, bracing for the worst.

Some of the other seated occupants turned toward Theo as he crouched in the empty seat beside Dot's brother.

"She was driving to Church. On the overpass the car skidded on a patch of black ice, spun out of control and crashed through the side railing and unto the highway below. The car landed on the driver's side," Tony's voice trailed into silence.

"Is she—?"

Ale reached across her brother to clasp Theo's arm.

Tony answered, "Broken bones, internal injuries, head trauma—terrible head trauma. She's unconscious. She was wearing her seat belt, and the air pillows inflated, but the car hit the pavement below with such force that the door caved inward, smashing against the side of her body."

Ale sobbed, "The doctor said we should be prepared. She might not wake up!"

Tony clasped Ale shoulders. "Come on, sis, we have to think positive."

Theo stood up. "I have to see her." Are Mary and Vincent with her?"

Tony nodded. She's in emergency intensive care, down the hall, the third cubicle. They won't allow more than two family members at a time. Dad and Mom are taking turns with us. Dad could use a rest."

"Thanks, Tony," Theo said softly. He headed stoically down the hall toward Dot.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Dot's hospital bed hugged the left wall of the cubicle. Mary and Vincent sat in narrow metal chairs on her right. Medical monitors with cables and wires attached to electrodes on Dot's bandaged head and chest, filled the back of the cubicle behind her, and beeped steadily monitoring her life signs, as IV lines dripped fluids into her right arm. She was breathing on her own. Her eyes were closed; her face severely bruised. Her left arm and leg were each in a caste; her bandaged body lay very still. Theo's legs weakened, and a tremor of anxiety coursed through his body. His eyes glazed with tears resolutely held back for the moment. "My dearest, precious love," he moaned.

Mary and Vincent glanced up. Vincent extended his hand and motioned to Theo to come closer. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered, standing up. "Sit. When she wakes up ... she'll want you near her."

Theo accepted the relinquished seat, but he had noted the hesitation and doubt in Vincent's voice.

"Mary," Vincent shouldered his wife. "We need a break, and some sustenance. Come on, sweetheart. Theo will keep watch. And call us if—as soon as she wakes up." He glanced at Theo optimistically.

Mary rose shakily and holding on to her husband's arm, she left with him.

Theo pulled his chair closer to the bed. He wanted so much to take Dot in his arms and cuddle her wounded head against his chest. To hold her and shower kisses on her closed eyelids and her lips. To impart to her the warmth of his being and his life-force and heal her and wake her.

Except for the IV Lines, her right arm, stiffly at her side, appeared uninjured. Theo took her hand in both of his. Her fingers were cold. He closed his fingers tenderly about hers. "Life is a trickster," he whimpered. "Don't leave me, my dearest sweet Dot." An uncontrollable sob issued from his lips as he bent forward and brought her hand to his face, pressing it heatedly to his tear-stained cheek.

He lost track of time, of how long he remained with his face buried in her hand, until a faint stirring of her fingers, jolted him upright. Not only her fingers stirred, but her eyelids. A pained moan issued from her lips, and her eyes slowly opened.

"Dot, my darling," Theo cried, drawing closer to her bandaged head. Dot's eyes mirrored shock and fear. From what brow showed from beneath the head bandages, he could tell she was frowning.

"Wh‒what. Wh-where? Mama?

She saw him.

"You were in an accident, do you remember?" Theo asked her anxiously, hoping against hope that she had not suffered brain damage, though he would love her just the same and dedicate his life to caring for her to the exclusion of all else. "You're hurt, but you're alive," he told her, to ease her confusion. When she did not reply, "You remember me, don't you?"

He breathed a sigh of relief as she slowly nodded and whispered, "Theo."

Reluctant to leave her side to call the nurse, he located the help button and pushed insistently until the nurse came.

"She's awake," he said. "Please, could you get her parents; they should be in the waiting room."

"I'll get the doctor as well," the nurse said.

Mary and Vincent rushed in. Theo backed away to give them the room they needed to be near their daughter.

A few moments later, the doctor and the nurse entered. The small cubicle was growing crowded. Theo realized he had to step outside before they compelled him to. He made eye contact with Dot. "I'll be right outside," he assured her, sending her his warmest smile.

Dot nodded. A sudden pain shot through her. She cried out. The beeps on the monitors became erratic. Over the frantic beat of his heart and Dot's cries, Theo barely heard the doctor give special instructions to the nurse on medication to be immediately injected into Dot's IV.

After agonizing moments, Theo and her parents noted the monitors resuming an even, steady beeping. Dot had quieted.

The doctor told the nurse, "I'm going to check her X-rays.

"Theo, please," Dot's strangled voice cried.

The nurse quickly came to her side. "You need to be calm, to rest. No movements."

"I have to talk to him, please," Dot begged.

"I'm right here, sweetheart. Please, do what the nurse says."

"Just a few words," Dot pleaded.

The nurse turned to Theo, "Just a few words," she ordered.

Theo nodded and took the nurse's place as she backed away. "What is it? I'm staying right here with you."

"Theo, don't blame God," she pleaded. "This wasn't his fault. He can't always interfere. You know," she tried to smile, "free will. But look at the gift He already gave us. Our Love. Forever my darling." Her voice trailed to a whisper. "Forever, my darling." Her eyes closed and her head lolled to the side."

Theo shouted for the nurse who quickly took his place.

"She's still alive," the nurse assured him. "See the monitors." They continued their steady rhythm. The nurse turned Dot's head forward. "She's merely sleeping. Why don't you all join the others in the waiting room. The doctor will have the results of her tests soon." He'll be able to tell you more.

"Thank you," he nodded gratefully. You'll call us as soon as she wakes again?"

"I promise."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was nearly nine o'clock in the morning when the doctor came into the waiting room to talk to Dot's family. He was not smiling and Theo swallowed nervously as he waited for news about Dot, that he was certain was not good.

"Your daughter has severe internal bleeding and has lapsed into a coma," the doctor told Mary and Vincent. I will operate, but honestly, and I don't say this lightly, I don't like being this blunt. I can see the anguish you're all going through. I'm afraid we may lose her on the operating table."

Vincent stood up resolutely. "Doctor, you operate; you do your part. We will do ours. We will pray. And God will do his part. Whether He leaves her to be with us, or takes her home—" A sob racked his voice as tears filled his eyes. "We will abide by His will."

Mary's face had grown almost as pale as the white walls surrounding them. All the same, she stood and joined Vincent. She had taken out her Rosary. Ale and Tony joined their parents.

Theo felt rage flame up his chest. "You Fools! You sweet, gentle fools!" He could stand no more. He ran out of the waiting room and out of the hospital.

He followed the side of the building that led to the parking lot where his car waited. The day had begun unusually cold and windy. The open air should have caused Theo to shiver, especially as in his anguish, he had rushed out of the waiting room without his overcoat. But the rage and anger he felt toward a God that might exist, toward life itself, burned in his ears and in his chest, a heated furnace. He did not hear the swoosh in the wind as something fell from the top floor until it crashed to the ground, barely missing him. Theo stopped short of trampling the objects.

He did not realize at once what they were. A gift basket, probably placed too close to an open window. The wind picking up had blown it off the windowsill.

Some part of him halted his desire to ignore it and plow ahead. The basket had landed on its side and the contents spilled out. Yellow apples, long stemmed red roses, fragrant clusters of basil and thyme and mint leaves.

A derisive chuckle died on his lips. He looked up. The basket had definitely fallen from a window high above. He could see the tail ends of hospital curtains flapping from the lower sash of a window high above. What an amusing coincidence, he thought. But the heart wrenching thought of the girl he adored dying in the ICU on the ground floor was not amusing. Coincidence, or a message, if he believed. Hadn't Dorothy told him the story of her patron saint, and the young pagan lawyer whom she had rejected? He had taunted her as she was led to her execution. "Bring me some fruit and flowers from your Lord's garden." And she had promised. And she had kept her promise. The instant the blade separated her head from her body, the legend told, a small child had appeared in front of Theophilus, carrying a basket of apples and roses, and herbs, and handed them to Theophilus, and disappeared before his very eyes. The young pagan lawyer had believed, and eventually been martyred and joined Saint Dorothy in the Lord's Garden.

Theo shivered, not from the cold, but from the eeriness of the coincidence. Coincidence, it was; he remonstrated with the niggling thought that the supernatural was involved. Just a weird coincidence. He did not believe in the supernatural. Everything had a logical explanation.

He bent and gathered the fruit and flowers and herbs and replaced them in the basket. He resolved to return it to the hospital, later, when he had calmed and stoically accepted his loss. And he swore to himself that he would never allow himself to love again.

As he resumed his way to his car, he felt the anger and the rage dissipating. The roses were beautiful and fragrant, as beautiful and fragrant as his sweet Dorothy. The herbs were having a calming effect on his nerves. He wanted to believe that it was more than coincidence; that his beloved had caused the gift basket to drop before him, as a sign that though her body had died, her spirit and their love continued. Truth be told, she might still be alive. He had not seen her die. Only concluded from the doctor's diagnosis that she probably would not survive. Yet the skeptic in him that had grown unrelenting with the death of his parents, after all the prayers and conviction that God would intervene and answer a young man's anguished pleas, continued to remonstrate with that whisper of hope.

Just a whisper, yet Theo's breaking heart clung to it, so that as he drove toward his apartment, with the gift basket on the seat beside him, that whisper grew, and he turned the car around and headed for the church where each Sunday he had joined his beloved just to be near her. He parked the car and entered through the main double doors. If not for the accident last night, he would have the memory now of kneeling quietly beside her before the Blessed Monstrance, contemplating the Host that Dot believed with all her heart was the Body of Christ transfigured into a wafer.

He entered an empty pew, and knelt, his eyes fixed on the altar, and on the Tabernacle housing the Blessed Eucharist. Even as his beloved lay dying, she had begged him not to turn from the Lord. Hadn't the Lord given them the gift of never-ending love. Could someone so precious to him, be completely wrong. And her family, so much in pain, yet so willing to accept the will of the Lord.

The whisper of hope pleaded with his hardened heart to believe, to hope, to pray, and to accept. People died every day—loves even stronger than his. Good and evil, constantly warred. And free will. If God existed, and was a kind God who loved all humankind, would it not go against his character always to interfere?

Christ had died for all humankind. He had forgiven them from the Cross. He would welcome Dot's soul into His Heavenly Garden.

Theo prayed.

For over an hour, Theo spoke silently to Christ in the form of the Blessed Host. He pleaded, he wept, he begged. Finally, he sat back, Dot's last words to him playing quietly in his mind. Yes, they had known great love. Some never found that strong a love; they spent their years searching and growing bitter and cynical. Those lonely persons would gladly trade places with him, just to have known the precious months of requited love that he'd been gifted.

His sweet Dot had asked him to accept the Lord, to believe in Him. And Theo's love for Dot refused to allow him to disregard her wishes. His parents had brought him up with a deep faith in the Lord. He had believed once.

Theo gazed at the Tabernacle housing the Blessed Host. I don't know if I can bring myself to finally completely accept your reality. But I promise for that very love that I have shared with my precious Dot, I promise that I will not close my heart to you. I beg you to grant us a full life filled with love and children, of togetherness, of growing old together, even dying together.

His next thoughts were the hardest he had ever formed in his mind. And by token of that same love that You have allowed me to share with my sweet Dot, if you take her—then—then I will accept your will."

What reserve he had managed, crumpled, and tears streamed from his eyes, down his cheeks unto the lapels of his jacket, as he fell forward on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Theo remained on his knees, his elbows on the back of the pew in front of him, his head bent, his spirit aching unbearably, until the Church custodian, approached him.

"Sir, morning devotions are over. We need to lock the church up. The times we live in—" The custodian let the statement hang, sure that the parishioner so intent in his prayers and silence, understood.

Theo lifted his head and stared unfocused, his eyes bleary from the deluge of tears. He blinked, slowly clearing his vision, and realized that the lights overhead were dimmed and the Church empty except for himself and the Custodian. He glanced at his watch. It was past eleven o'clock. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize the time. I'll be on my way." He stood up and exited the pew. For the first time in many years, he made the Sign of the Cross and knelt in obeisance, before leaving.

He drove back to the hospital. Mary and Vincent were in the waiting room. They had sent Ale and Tony home. Dot was in surgery.

Theo sat down beside Vincent, who shouldered him compassionately. "You should go home and rest. The doctor said the surgery would take hours. When Dot awakes, she'll feel bad seeing you drained and exhausted."

But Theo was adamant that he would wait out the surgery and not leave until he knew she was out of danger.

Four hours later, the exhausted doctor came into the waiting room. "We've done all we can. Now it is just a matter of waiting to see if her body is strong enough to begin healing. She is still in a coma, and with the internal injuries she has sustained, it may be a blessing in disguise that her body remains motionless to avoid further injury and aid the healing. Go home all of you. Get what rest you can and come back in the morning."

"Can we just see her for a moment," Mary pleaded.

"Only for a moment. She's been returned to the ICU Unit, and there are three other patients in the adjoining cubicles battling serious conditions of their own. We don't wish to disturb them. So please, be very quiet."

The threesome followed the doctor into the ICU and locked their gazes on Dot, swathed in bandages and splints, and hooked to monitors and IV. Her eyes were closed; her breathing was slow, her chest barely rising in rhythm with each breath. Theo fought back the urge to run to her side and take her in his arms. Mary unconsciously extended her arm as if to touch her, though she was nowhere near the bed. Vincent drew his wife close and embraced her, resting his head on her brow to comfort her.

"You'll have to leave now," one of the two nurses in attendance whispered.

Outside in the parking lot, Mary turned to Theo. "I can see how much pain you're in. I can guess you don't want to be alone tonight. We have a spare bedroom. Why don't you stay with us tonight, as I'm sure you intend returning to the hospital in the morning."

"Thank you, yes, I don't want to be alone tonight." Dot's home was also miles closer to the hospital than his apartment.

Theo followed Dot's parents in his car as they drove home. As they disembarked, his gaze fell again on the gift basket on the seat beside him. Evening was drawing close and two tall iron electric posts lit the driveway and cast shadows on the lawn where the statue of Saint Dorothy and the small angel stood guard. Theo took the basket by its handle and walked quietly toward them. He placed the basket in front of the saint and knelt down.

"I have accepted God's will, whether he takes her home, or leaves her to share her life with me." His next words were shrouded in anguish. "Please, if He decides to take her, escort her to your garden." He felt so weak, totally drained, unsteady and unbalanced. He might have fallen, but Vinny had come up behind him and caught him.

"Come on, son, come inside and rest."

CHAPTER TWENTY

In the morning, after a forced breakfast, Theo and Dot's family returned to the hospital to find that Dot had been moved to a private room near the ICU. They entered the room slowly, openly afraid of what they might find. Nothing seemed to have changed. Dot still lay quietly, bandaged and hooked up to monitors and IV.

After what felt like hours, but was in truth only a half hour, the doctor came in. He appeared a bit more rested, not quite as tired as yesterday. He greeted them with a composed face. He spoke to Dot's father, explaining what surgery had been performed.

"As I have already explained, we did all we could. I have to honestly say that I thought she would not survive the surgery. I'm a religious man myself, so this is off the record. I think your prayers are working. Especially yesterday, toward evening. We lost her. I was about to pronounce the time of death, when suddenly her pulse and breathing returned. She muttered something before relapsing into the coma. The words were muffled, but I did make out Theo and Thanks, and the word, Saint."

During the weighty pause that followed, no one commented. At length, Mary asked, "Will she be all right, then?"

The doctor took a deep breath. "She's a fighter. I don't want to encourage false hopes. We'll have to wait and see. We have stemmed the internal bleeding, sewn up the tears inside and out and set the broken limbs. If her heart can maintain its beat—" He left the rest unsaid.

Vincent extended his hand. "Thank you, Doctor. With you, we know she is in the best of care."

The doctor accepted his hand and shook it. He bowed his head and went out.

Theo visited Dot daily. She remained in a coma. After four weeks, the doctor's prognosis was not encouraging.

It was on the evening of the fourth week that Theo entered her room and discovered it empty and remade as if the current patient no longer occupied it. He refused to think the worst and hurried to the floor nurse's station. The phones were ringing and bed bells summoning. The nurse, one he had not seen before, was half in and half out of her chair. Theo demanded to know where Dot was. The nurse in a hurry, quickly scanned the list of patients on her floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you immediate family?"

Theo heart skipped a beat. "No, I'm—"

Impatiently the nurse interrupted. "Well, in that case, I can't give out much information. I can tell you that she passed—"

Theo heard nothing else, except for a loud drumming in his ears as his heart felt on the brink of bursting." He fled, leaving the nurse with hand extended to try to stop him as she realized she should have exercised better nursing etiquette.

Theo climbed into his car and sat there a moment before he gripped the steering wheel ready to hurl his car into the road. He wanted to die and join his beloved. But according to the beliefs his parents had instilled in him, dying by his own hand would separate him forever from the one he desperately needed to be with. His thoughts churned with bitterness, and at the same time, he knew this was the test he must pass to prove his return to the faith, the faith that Dot had so tried to rekindle in him. There was nothing he could do, but bang his head repeatedly on the steering wheel and break into heartrending sobs.

A long time later, when there were no more tears left to dry in white patches across his cheeks and jaw, he started the car and drove to Vincent and Mary's Home. They must already know, as Dot's family took turns staying by her bedside so that she was never alone. He noticed as he parked that all their cars were present in the parking area. Sedately, he exited his car and treaded slowly the walkway to the house's main entrance. He rang the bell. A few moments later, Mary and Vincent opened the door. He raised his eyes to meet theirs, as he fought to hold back more tears. Like his, their eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but Mary and Vincent were smiling.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

June arrived with glorious clear and warm weather, made even lovelier by a soft warm breeze. The sun at its apex shone brilliantly upon the rose arbor in full bloom in the Planting Fields Arboretum. The wedding guests were gathered at one end of the arbor, their gazes trained expectantly on the far end where a dome-shaped entrance preambled a tunnel of curved branches overhead blossoming with roses—pinks, whites, hot pinks and vibrant reds, above and on both sides of the white-grey gravel path.

"They're coming," one guest shouted. Silence filled the air as Danny and Ruth, splendorous in their wedding apparel, appeared in the dome shaped entrance. The gentle breeze stirred the roses to release fragrant petals, softly showering the couple as they walked up the path towards the guests. As they neared the well-wishers, a cheer went up, and family members crowded about the pair.

A moment later, another couple appeared at the far end. The bride as resplendent as the first in white satin overlaid with lace appliqued with tiny pearls from the dainty V-neck to the A-line bodice and floor-length skirt. Beside her, the groom attired as Danny before him, in a tuxedo—white jacket and grey striped pants—held tight to the bride's arm folded lovingly inside the crook of his arm.

Mary and Vincent craned their necks as Dot and Theo, the roses spilling petals about them, picked up their pace and hurried toward their open arms.

Theo hugged his father-in-law and mother-in-law. To think that only a few months ago, he had believed this day was a dream never to be fulfilled when the floor nurse in her hurry had mistaken the patient Theo had asked about. Dot had come out of her coma during the night, and after several tests, pronounced on her way to full recovery. She had been moved from the private room near the ICU Unit to a room on the second floor, to make room for other patients who needed more supervision.

Upon his arrival at Mary and Vincent's home, their smiles had confused and astonished him. Were they celebrating her death? But very soon, all was made clear to him. Dot was well on way to full recovery. The doctor was surprised at the speed of recovery. From the moment that Dot had returned to life, during that evening hour that he had explained to her parents, her recovery had escalated to the degree that he called, off the records of course, miraculous.

Theo was present when the doctor made this pronouncement, chuckling at his reference to off the record, of course. As a lawyer, he well understood the doctor not wanting to be quoted in the skeptical, logical profession in which he worked. Dot's family did not place any particular significance on the time itself. They had been praying since the moment of learning of Dot's accident. Theo alone knew that the time of her recovery had begun when he had opened his heart to the Lord and His will, shortly before he had placed the basket of fruits and roses and herbs before the statue of Saint Dorothy—the basket that had mysteriously fallen from the hospital window high above him.

Theo had said nothing about this, except to his beloved Dorothy, one evening when finally home again, she had strolled arm in arm with him the grounds outside her home and paused with him before the sculpture of her patron saint. And when he had revealed what had happened to unlock his hardened heart, she had merely smiled and said, "Then perhaps my dream was not a dream at all. It was precisely that time you mention, that I found myself in a beautiful garden with a myriad of flowers I have no name for, except the roses. A young maiden draped in white garments, assisted by a young roman wearing a white toga, she introduced as her friend in Christ, were tending the flowers. She welcomed me, but said I could only stay a little while, for I was needed elsewhere for now. And my beloved was crying out to heaven for me."

And now, Dot was his bride, his beloved that he would love in this life and in eternity. Oblivious to everyone about him, Theo took Dot in his arms and kissed her passionately, reveling in her equally passionate response. He wished he could leave this very moment, and take her to their new home, only a few miles away, and love her with his whole being, body and soul. But he knew he must wait, as she had made him wait until this their wedding. He must share this joyous day with her parents and siblings, her family, along with Danny and Ruth similarly in love.

The wedding day, the celebration, the dinner, all the memories photographed for their album and imprinted in their hearts forever, passed. And at last, he was home with the woman he cherished and loved above all other human beings. She was the other half of him. This was the true miracle, that he should now hold her in his arms, as she willingly and with all her heart gave to him herself and her love, and took from him, himself and his love, as before God and man, they were finally one, body and soul.

"I love you," he whispered, as they snuggled comfortingly under the sheets.

"I love you more," she whispered with a smile, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"No, I love you more!" he retorted.

"We're having our first argument," Dot laughed, as chuckling, Theo brought the sheets over their heads.

(And from their heavenly garden,

Saint Dorothy and Saint Theophilus

smiled down upon the wedded couples

and Glorified the Lord.)

FINE

Thank you for reading my inspirational romance.

Wishing you all the best, and peace of mind and spirit.

Paula Freda

Other novels, novellas, short stories and articles by Paula Freda

E-BOOKS

The Blue Jay and the Sparrow

Driscoll's Lady

Henderson Sands

Adventure in Panama

The Heart Calleth

The Sketchbook (novella)

Inspirational Stories - Set I

Inspirational Stories - Set 2

Inspirational Stories - Set 3

Blonde Angel

The Ugliness Without

The Lord's Canine

Is There More To Life Than What The Realists Claim

(with a special bonus) The Giftless Christmas

The Camellia Lady / My Three Fathers

Cathy and the Dolphin

A Valentine Bouquet

Stardust (Old Woman in the Park)

A Cup of Humanity

Shannon and the Angel (A Mortal Man)

Welcome Home, Amy

The Scent of Camellias

The Intangible

The Lonely Heart

A Ghost of a Story

The Gently Cursed

The Offering

The Good People

The Novices Guide

To the Art of Writing

Blossoms in the Snow (2011)

PAPERBACK EDITIONS

Time Encapsulated (Poetry of the Soul)

Romantic Short Stories

Science Fiction and Fantasy Short Stories

Inspirational Short Stories

The Complete Collection (Sets 1, 2, & new Set 3)

The Novices Guide To the Art of Writing

In Another Life (from the Journals of Grace Quinlan and

Lord William Hayden)

Roses in the Dark

Heartsongs

(NEW) Blossoms in the Snow

Paula Freda's websites

http://www.angelfire.com/falcon/dpfenterprises.com

http://www.thepinkchameleon.com

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