Chasing Anne

Steps Closer

  Mitchel quietly pushed open the door to Anne room the following morning, stepping inside of the peaceful silence within. Anne lay still, her arm tucked behind her head as she slept. Mitch smiled and walked over to her, sitting down beside her and gently touching her arm. Anne's eyes squinted shut and a soft moan escaped her lips as she roused from her slumber. Slowly, her eyes opened and a smile touched the edges of her cheeks, lighting up her face.
"Hey, Mitch," she whispered, her voice coarse. "What brings you here?"
Mitch tried to look offended. "Would you rather I not come and see you?"
Anne laughed. "Stop it, Mitchel. You know I enjoy having you around. Though, you didn't have to wake me up for it."
"Why not? I thought you'd want to know that you can go outside."
Anne's eyes widened and a gasp escaped her throat. "You mean it?"
Mitchel nodded, brushing her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. "I'd never lie to you, Anne. You know that."
Anne blushed and nodded. "I know," she whispered, taking his hand.
He gently slipped his other hand behind her shoulders, raising her upward into a sitting position. She winced slightly, dizziness nearly making her collapse. Mitchel took notice and let go of her hand, grabbing a pillow and propping her up with it from behind so that she could rest a moment before she sat up any further. Anne closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tried to regain focus. Mitchel felt her forehead, but was satisfied with her temperature and withdrew his hand.
"Anne," he said softly.
"Hmm?" Anne hummed in response.
"Do you have a favorite dessert?"
Anne smiled, opening her eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"Simple curiosity," Mitch replied.
"I'd have to say peach pie," Anne answered after a moment. "My mother used to make it for me."
"Has Mark ever made it?"
Anne laughed. "No, but he wanted to try a few times."
Mitchel let her lie still a few more moments and then again began to help her sit up further. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, using his strength to support her weak legs. Mitch bent and slipped his arm under her knees, lifting her in his arms. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest and lifting her other arm into her lap. Mitchel waited a few seconds to make sure he had a firm grip on her and then turned, striding over to a wheelchair near the door. His gait was slow and easy, nearly making Anne fall back asleep. He laughed, realizing her sleepiness and shook his head.
"Stay awake, Anne. I want to show you the sunrise, not have you sleep through it."
Anne smiled and opened her eyes, looking up at his face. "Sorry, I guess I'm more tired than I thought I would be."
Mitch sighed and bent over, resting her down in the wheelchair as gently as he could. Anne withdrew her arm from around his neck and instead laid it on the armrest of the chair as he eased her down into the seat. Once she was seated, he moved back over to her bed and picked up a pair of slippers as well as the blanket from her bed. He then turned back to her and knelt down in front of her, slipping the furry shoes onto her feet, laying the blanket over her lap, and tucking it around her.
"Mornings in Mississippi are quite cool, Anne. We don't need you to catch a cold."
Anne laughed, but she could tell Mitch was completely serious. He sat back on his heels and stared at her, an almost hurt look on his face. "What's so funny about that?"
Anne's hand instantly flew to her mouth as she tried to muffle her giggles. "Sorry, I've just never been pampered like this before."
Mitchel sighed and let a grin wash onto his face. "Well, I certainly don't want you any more hurt than you already are, so please, accept the pampering for a few days. All right?"
Anne nodded. "I didn't say I didn't like it, Mitch. I've just never had anyone put my shoes on before. Not since I was a baby anyway."
Mitch said no more and simply stood, kicking the lock on the wheelchair out of position so that the chair could move freely. He then walked to the back of the chair and grabbed the two handles, pushing Anne forward toward the door.
"Aleron, open room 327's door please," he said, as he began to move toward the exit.
"Yes, Sir James," an automated male voice as the door opened.
Mitchel rolled his eyes. "And call me Mitch, Aleron."
"Yes, Mitch," the voice said again.
Anne's eyes narrowed with puzzlement. "Who are you talking to?" she asked shifting and turning so she could look at him.
Mitchel smiled. "Aleron. He's an invention of Mark's father. He was only supposed to control the interface of Aleron 1, the aircraft Ryan's creating, but the idea had too much potential to be limited to only that. So with a little work, Mark's father reprogrammed Aleron 1's aptitudes to also work to control his manor."
"So what is Aleron exactly?"
"You'll have to ask Ryan," Mitch said, shrugging. "I don't really know exactly what Aleron or Aleron 1 is."
Anne turned back to a normal sitting position and sighed, as if deep in thought. But while Mitch wanted to know what was flopping around in her brain, he didn't want to press into what it was. So he kept his mouth closed and just pushed her quietly down the hall. Anne seemed to notice his silence and again glanced up at him, studying his face. He ignored it, for the most part, only glancing down to smile at her briefly before returning his gaze to the hall ahead of them. After a long moment, Anne sighed again and turned away from him once more. Mitch knew she was concerned, but he really didn't want to tell her what was bothering him. Because it wasn't only Anne that worried him. It was also Andrew.
Since the day before, when Andrew had questioned Mark about dances and fast-food restaurants, he had been worried. Mark had petitioned the idea that Andrew was asking because of Mark's sister, Brianna. But though Mitch wanted to say that the idea of Andrew liking Brianna didn't bother him, it did. It did greatly. He sighed and shook his head, mumbling that neither Brianna nor Andrew should bother him, but still his mind could not rest with that thought. He didn't know why, yet he both did and didn't want to find out the reason why it made him so nervous. He sighed again, and as soon as the noisy breath of air left his lips, Anne again turned to him.
"Are you okay? You're awfully quiet."
Mitch again flashed her a smile. "I'm okay, Anne. I just . . . there's a lot on my mind that doesn't make much sense to me."
Anne chuckled and the smile on her face was more of a relief to Mitch than to her. "I've had thoughts like that before too. What's on your mind?"
Mitch instantly regretted saying anything. "I really need to get you to the balcony before the sunrise, Anne."
"Then talk while you walk," Anne reasoned, settling back into her seat.
Mitch shook his head and clamped his mouth shut. There was no way he was going to tell anyone anything. Not for a while anyway. Anne seemed to notice that and asked no more of the matter. Nonetheless, it still nagged at the back of Mitch's head, nearly giving him a headache. But then, to his relief, they began approaching their destination; the wide balcony on the third floor that overlooked the Mississippi River's bay. He turned Anne's wheelchair in that direction, careful not to take the turn to sharply in case he threw her off balance, and then gently pushed her out onto the white platform that jutted out of the rest of the house.
Anne had her eyes closed and didn't see the sky as she was pushed onto the balcony at first, but when Mitch brought her chair to a halt and bent over, laying his hand over hers and squeezing it, she opened her eyes and gasped. The gentle but brilliant colors of the sunrise filled her eyes with wonder as she looked across the horizon. The black line of trees across the Mississippi river glowed orange as the sun rose, its intense light blotting out the trees color. Just above the tree line, the orange faded into a dark yellow that gradually faded into the light blue sky above. Clouds surrounding the horizon glistened gold as the sun danced over their puffy texture, and distant birds' silhouettes gleamed in the sky.
Mitch couldn't help but smile and enjoy the moment. He squeezed Anne's hand again, knowing that a moment like this couldn't have been made more perfect. But when he looked back at his friend seated in the wheelchair, he was more than shocked to see her eyes closed and large tears dripping down her face. He knelt down, reaching out and gently wiping away her tears with his thumb, worried that he had done more harm than good in bringing her outside. She opened her eyes and forced a smile, looking back out at the hazy sunrise, but tears still trickled down her cheeks until she was shaking and again had to take her eyes off of the sky. Mitch wrapped his arms around her and she slipped off of the chair into his arms, trembling.
"What's wrong, Anne?" he asked softly. "What did I do?"
Anne smiled and shook her head. "You did nothing, Mitchel. It's just so beautiful and it reminds me of. . ." She trailed off, her sobs making it impossible for her to go on.
And then Mitch understood and sighed deeply for what could have been the hundredth time that day. "This reminds you of the last time you saw Mark, doesn't it?"
Anne wiped her face with a hand and nodded. "Neither of us knew Ray was coming for us," she whispered. "But watching him try so hard to protect me after he was shot . . . it broke my heart."
Mitchel nodded and rested his chin a top her head. "I wish I could bring him to you, Anne. I really do."
Anne smiled and looked up at him, her red, tear stained eyes filled with a hope that could not be explained. "I will have him back soon," she whispered. "God will heal him."
Mitch smiled and gave her a squeeze. "And I will never doubt that, Anne. Never."
The moment could have lasted forever, but fate had other plans. As Anne once again turned her eyes to the sunset and gazed into its brilliance, she couldn't think of a moment more peaceful since she and Mark had danced. Mitchel's arms held her close, comforting her as well as supporting her. He knew how hard it had been for her since being kidnapped but now seemed like one of the hardest moments she'd been through since then.
"Anne," he started, but then the ring of his smartphone cut off his next words. He groaned and slipped the phone out of his back pocket, accepting the call and then holding it to his ear. "What is it Andrew?" he asked, his voice more annoyed than concerned.
"It's Mark, Mitch. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need you here. Please, get down here as soon as you can!"
Mitch nearly dropped the phone. "Mitch?" Andrew called through the silence. "Mitch are you there?"
Mitch nodded, breaking himself out of his trance. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here," he stuttered. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Thanks. See you soon." Then the line went dead.
"What's wrong?" Anne questioned.
Mitch turned his eyes to her and tried to think of a way to tell her without shattering her last hope. "Andrew needs me," he said softly.
Anne's eyes moistened. "Is it Mark?" she asked.
Mitchel couldn't do anything but nod.


Andrew knew that he'd been wrong about different speeds of healing, but never had he ever seen anything as remarkable as what was sitting before him now. He stared blankly at the x-ray beside Mark, his eyes mesmerized with what he saw. Yes, Mark had been making an incredibly remarkable recovery, but this . . . this was just too much. He'd seen bones heal before and almost always there was some sign of the bone being broken for a while, but it had been less than a few days and there was no sign of anything. Not even a scratch was marring the humorous of Mark's arm. It was impossible! Andrew spun around in his swivel chair and walked over to the x-ray machine. Everything was in complete working order. Not a single piece of the machinery was out of place. Andrew wanted to slap himself. Had he truly done something so wrong as to completely miss the break in the bone?
"Andrew, are you going to be okay?" Mark asked.
Andrew shook his head. "Mark, I've never made a mistake like this before. This is improbable."
"What mistake?" Mark asked, his eyes confused.
"The x-ray shows no break! That's impossible! Either the machine's not working or I'm insane. One of the two."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "How is this any different from the last time I broke my arm and it healed?"
Andrew paused at that and turned his eyes to Mark, resting his hand over his chin and mouth as he thought. "I suppose it could be a miracle, Mark, but I want solid evidence that I'm not crazy. If Mitch runs the x-ray and still sees nothing, then it's a miracle. But if not then I'm crazy."
Silence fell and Mark sat back against the pillows of his hospital bed. His leg and arm had both healed rapidly, leaving no mark of the bullet wounds, but until now, Andrew had been sure that Mark's arm was still broken. But that had been before this morning when Andrew had come in to find Mark freely moving about the room and making himself a cup of coffee. He'd ordered his patient back to bed immediately, first checking where the bullet wounds had been, and then preparing the x-ray machine. But what had come out was this! A perfect image of a perfect humorous! Andrew leaned forward and laid his head in his hands. What was wrong with him?
Mitchel James knocked on the door and opened it, peeking into the room. "I'm afraid to find out what's-." he stopped and looked from Mark to Andrew. "He's perfectly fine, Andrew! Why'd you call? Anne's probably scared to death!"
Mark's eyes watered at that and he looked away.
Andrew ran a hand over his face. "It's the fact that Mark's fine that bothers me, Mitch. I just took x-rays of his arm and there is no sign of the break."
Mitchel's jaw went slack. "What do you mean no sign?"
"I mean not even a scratch, Mitchel! Look!" Andrew shoved an x-ray at Mitch and then waited until he picked it up. Mitch did so with great care and held it up to the light bulb.
"Tell me you don't see a break, because if you do see one, then I'm crazy," Andrew muttered, his eyes fixed on Mitchel's face.
Mitchel's jaw dropped in amazement and he dropped the paper. "You're not crazy, Andrew. I don't see a break either."
Andrew sighed in frustration. "Okay, so it could be a miracle, but just to make sure that Mark isn't injured anymore before we free pass him out of the hospital, can you run the x-ray again and then we'll compare?"
Mitchel nodded and motioned to Mark to come over to the x-ray machine. There was a long moment of silence as the young doctor did his work, and then they both watched in complete amazement as the lab computer read and displayed the x-ray on the computer screen.
Mark's arm was not broken. Again, there was no scratch on the bone. Andrew dropped back in his chair. "That's all I need for evidence! This is a miracle of God!"
Mitchel smiled and shook his head. "He's astounded us again," he said with a grin.
"Does this mean I have the free pass out of the hospital?" Mark asked, his eyes eager for release.
Andrew scratched the back of his neck and glanced at Mitchel. "I say he can, what do you think?"
Mitchel nodded in agreement. "We'll keep an eye on him, but for now, Mark, you're free to leave."
Mark's eyes danced with joy as he leaped to his feet and went to the door. "Hallelujah!" he exclaimed, grabbing the door handle.
"But, Mark," Mitchel interrupted. "There's something you need to know about Anne."
Mark froze and for a moment was motionless. But then he released his grip on the door and slowly turned around. "Yes?"
Mitchel smiled. "It's nothing bad, Mark. I just wanted to show you where she is. It's incredibly easy to get lost in this mansion, and I don't need you lost.'
Mark grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, that'd probably be a bad idea."
Mitch nodded and walked over to the door. As he did, Mark released his iron grip on the door handle and let the doctor open the door instead. Mitchel took the door handle and pushed the door open, walking out into the bright corridors of Normand Hall. He'd never been in his father's huge home before and didn't actually remember his father ever mentioning it to him before when he'd come up to Minnesota to visit. True, he hadn't seen his father in a few years, but this was not where his father had lived before he'd moved to Minnesota. No, his father had lived in a small house in the middle of a subdivision. That was where both Mark and Brianna had been raised and . . . Mark bit his lip . . . that had been the house where his mother had died. His father had broken since then and completely thrown himself into the project he'd been working on intermittently of for the past few decades, but he'd never said anything to either of his two children about the mansion on the side of the Mississippi River. The topic of what he was working on for the U.S Air Force just never came up. Neither did the topic of Iran, or Jadon Tobias, or David's father.
Mark sighed and looked back up the hall. There were still so many things that he didn't know about his father. He was beginning to wonder if he ever would know who his father truly was.
"You're awfully quiet," Mitch noted, interrupting his thoughts. "And you don't seem very excited either."
Mark flashed a smile. "I'm just thinking,"
Mitch chuckled. "That's dangerous."
Mark rolled his eyes. "I just am wondering about my dad. There's so much I don't know about him."
"Yeah, and there's still a lot that I don't know about you, Mark. There are probably still things that you don't know about Jackson."
Mark nodded. "I guess. I just never expected this," he said, gesturing with his hands to the building around them. "I guess three years is a long time."
"A lot can change," Mitch muttered. A moment of silence passed, but then Mitch spoke up again. "Mark, don't take this the wrong way, but I just have to know."
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to marry Anne?"
Mark smiled and chuckled softly. "Look, Mitchel. I haven't seen her in a few months. Can I start with that before everyone starts planning our wedding?"
Mitch nodded then took a left down another hall. "I just don't want you to lose her again before the two of you are together. She loves you very, very much and . . . she wouldn't be able to bear losing you. Not again."
Mark nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I don't think I could bear losing her right now either."
Mitch wrapped an arm around Mark's shoulders. "Relax, Mark. I just saw her less than an hour ago and she's perfectly fine! Weak, but fine!"
Mark nodded and wiped away tears that had pooled in his eyes. "I love her, Mitch."
Mitch nodded and smiled. "It's kind of obvious."
They made a few more turns down the halls of Normand Hall, walking ever so slowly. It surprised Mitchel that Mark wasn't exuberantly rushing through the halls of the mansion, but he could sort of understand why. Mark had just gotten out of the hospital for one but he was probably anxious about meeting up with Anne as well. Why he was nervous, Mitch couldn't completely understand, but as he walked, he could feel the pressure and tension filling Mark's body. He gave him a reassuring squeeze and then withdrew his arm, stopping him.
"Wait here. I'm just going to make sure she's still out on the balcony."
Mark nodded and turned, leaning his back against the wall behind him. His eyes closed, and Mitch instantly knew that he was in prayer. For a moment he thought about trying to reassure his troubled friend, but then pushed the idea away. Mark needed a moment alone and the sooner this was over, the better. Mark needed to know Anne was okay, and Anne needed to know Mark was okay. He pushed back the curtain and glanced out over the wide white balcony. Sure enough, Anne sat in her chair, her hands folded in her lap and her head bowed. She too was praying. It made Mitch smile. If only she knew what was about to happen. Letting go of the curtain, he turned back to Mark whose uneasy eyes were watching him and nodded.
"Go ahead."
Mark nodded in return and took a deep breath, stepping closer to the curtain and then pushing it aside. At first, he didn't let himself look at the balcony and instead turned to pull the curtain closed behind him. But once he had sealed the balcony off, he turned back around.
And there she was, as beautiful as he'd always remembered. The golden sun washed over her blonde hair and face, making her glow like he had never seen. Tears were streaming down her lovely cheeks as he watched her, her inaudible prayer more than desperate. Mark could hardly move. The world seemed to slow around him and fade from existence. How was he supposed to approach her after all this time? Could he just walk up to her? She sniffled and opened her eyes, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand and returning her gaze to the sky. Mark knew the look on her face. He'd seen it a hundred times before. She was terrified.
Why, he didn't know, but he didn't like it either and knew that he could not hold himself back any longer. He cleared his throat and then took a step closer to her.
"Anne?"