Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 2

"Good morning, Sister," a familiar voice said.  It was Father MacNamara.


"Good Morning, Father," she said, "So glad to be back.  I want to get back to work right away."


"Ah, good.  I have just the case for you, Sister.  Then, possibly later, you can fill us in on your adventures abroad."


"I'm afraid that was not as pleasant a time as I'd like.  But about this case, tell me, I'm all ears, Father."  The nun said, walking along side Father MacNamara.  The family room was filled with patients, it was mid morning, and most of them were resting, reading or meeting with family members.

"Yes, but she's quite a tough one."


"Tell me more about her."


"She goes by Bea.  Mute, very disturbed.  Close to your age.  She was locked up in a private institution much of her adult life.  The conditions were deplorable.  The state went in, saw it, closed down the facility and sent all of the patrons elsewhere.  Her records showed that she had some kind of history with Llanview, so she was sent to us."


"I see.  Any word on what kind of illness she has, or what's wrong?"


"Not clear.  They believe delusional schizophrenia, but it's uncertain.  Since she has not spoken in many years, at least to any staff, they have a difficult time ascertaining what the problem is."


"Sad.  I assume my goal is to get her talking, eh?"


"Most likely.  And for some reason, Sister, I felt you were perfect for the job."


"Yes, I'm quite the chatterbox, I know.  Let's see if I can put it to good use."


They entered the solarium, and there was the woman.  Sister Rebecca Katherine made eye contact, and smiled, saying, "Hello, Bea, nice to meet ya," and gently walked toward her.  The woman looked into her face, and not uttering a word, stared at the nun's features.  Sister Rebecca Katherine stared back, and then smiled again.  The woman's face softly smiled, not grandly, but just enough to be seen.  The nun put a gentle hand on her shoulder and said, "I'll be glad to get to know ya," in a soft, low voice.


The woman made no response, facially or otherwise.  She just continued to look at Sister Rebecca Katherine, with the same tepid, shy smile on her face.


The nun said, "Dear, I'm Sister Rebecca Katherine.  And when you feel like it, you can call me Sister, or you can call me Creena.  I answer to both."


The woman blinked several times, then looked to her hands.  


The nun said, "You mustn't be afraid of me, dear.  I'm harmless as the day is long.  Can ya look at me again?"


The woman obliged, and the priest, standing by, watching, smiled.  He said, "I knew you were the right one for the job, Sister.  And I thank you."


"It's part of what I do, Father."  She turned to the woman, and placing her hand gently on her arm, she said, "Bea, would you like to come and get some tea with me?"


Bea got up and stood, as Sister Rebecca Katherine lead her to the tea pot and filled two cups with hot water, one for Bea and one for herself.  Then, they brought the tea over the the window and they sat down, Sister Rebecca Katherine telling tales and Bea, sipping her tea and making eye contact with the nun throughout.


The priest turned to one of the doctors, and the specialist said, "She's got her looking at her.  Amazing."


"She's a quite endearing woman, Sister Rebecca Katherine," the priest added.  "Hopefully, she will help get through to her."

***


The doorbell at La Boulaie rang, and Kelly, in the living room with tea, came to the door.  Opening it, she was greeted with a devilishly handsome smile and bouquet from none other than Timothy Broderick.


"Top of the morning, Lass.  May I come in?"


"Well, good morning, Timothy, is it?"


"Yes."


"Please do," she said, moving back from the door.  "Shall I get Dorian?"


"Yes, I'd love to see her."  he responded.


"Pretty flowers."


"For her, Dear."


"Of course," she said, smiling, and went up the stairs, passing Cassie on her way.  


Meeting up with Timothy in the foyer, Cassie said, "Hello, Timothy."


"Hello, Cassie, was it?"  Timothy responded.


"Yes.  You're here to see my mother?"


"Yes.  I hope that's acceptable to ya."


"Sure, she can have any friends she wants.  She's a grown woman," Cassie finished as Dorian rounded the top of the staircase.  She said, "Goodbye, Timothy.  Mother, goodbye, it looks like you have a guest," and left.


Dorian came down the stairs, wearing a simple black pants suit.  She said, "Mr. Broderick, you weren't actually invited."


"Ms. Cramer, I know.  I invited myself," he put his hand out, and she took it and he turned it to kiss it.  


She smiled, "I see.  Well, what can I do for you?"


"It's rather what I can do for you, Ms. Cramer."


"Mr. Broderick, I have no pending legal trouble, at least, not now, and I certainly can't think of anything else you can do for me."  Her gaze met his twinkling blue eyes and warm smile.  She hesitated, then smiled herself.


"Timothy, please," he added.


"Timothy, then."


"May I call you Dorie?"


"Dorie?"  She laughed, "I have only one person who calls me Dorie."


"And who might that be, Lass?"


"My sister, Addie."


"Ah, I see.  Well, if you'd rather not, Dorie, I will pass on it.  However, I'd like to call ya something other than Ms. Cramer."


"Dorian is fine, or . . ." she realized she was still holding his hand, "Dorie, is all right."


"Both are better than Ms. Cramer," he said, "too formal."


"I'll agree.  So did you come here to discuss names?"


"No," he said, handing her the bouquet of flowers, "I came calling, as they'd say in the old country."


"Calling.  You're calling on me?"


"Yes, Lass.  I want to get to know ya better.  I'd like to find out if the fire in your eyes matches the fire in your heart."


She blushed.  A woman of her age, blushing.  She had told herself that he was not going to be there long, just as long as she could take to throw him out, and he had already been there more than five minutes.  She said, "I'm afraid I don't have time."


"Why are ya afraid?  If you're afraid that ya don't have time, then ya must be sorry that ya don't."


She smiled again, blushing more.  "Yes, I guess that expression is a bit odd."


"Just a tad.  I wonder if we might sit and chat a while?"  He asked, and she could see his ruggedness under the draw of the twinkling eyes.  Physically fit, he was now without a cane and standing sure and about a foot taller than she was.  She'd heard from Blair about his mysterious past, spying and fighting terrorists, his drinking, (which she likened to Mel and told herself was the biggest reason to avoid him,) and his recent illness.  Still, though she planned to ask him to leave, he was still standing there.  


She said, "I do have an appointment."


"Is the appointment now?  I hardly think someone will make an appointment at 10:13 a.m."


"No, it's not now, it's in a while."


"What time?"


She was flustered by his pinning her down.  "Eleven."


"Not that I have to know your business, but can ya make it to the appointment in, say, ten minutes?"


"Yes, I suppose."


"Then we have from 10:13, or fourteen now, until 10:50.  That's a nice chunk of time for a chat and a cup of coffee."


"Are you inviting yourself for coffee, Mr. Broderick?"


"Timothy.  And black."


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