Dutch Crocus (Flowers Can Be Fatal) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Editor’s Note

  Books by Clare Revell

  Clare’s Dedication

  End of June

  Mid July

  August

  September

  October

  November

  December

  December

  December 14th

  February 18th

  Carnations in January - 1

  Carnations in January - 2

  Flowers Can Be Fatal Series

  Thank you

  You Can Help!

  God Can Help!

  Free Book Offer

  Dutch Crocus

  a complimentary Flowers can be Fatal story

  Clare Revell

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Dutch Crocus

  COPYRIGHT 2017 by Clare Revell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

  White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  Publishing History

  First White Rose Edition, 2017

  Electronic ISBN 978-1-5223-0005-2

  Published in the United States of America

  Editor’s Note

  Dearest readers,

  Over the years, you have supported Pelican Book Group in a way that is unprecedented and touches the hearts of all our staff and authors. Thank you! You are the reason we do what we do.

  Since Clare Revell’s first book with us many years ago, we’ve watched her become a reader favourite, and the Flowers Can Be Fatal series is Clare at her best!

  We offer you this complimentary sequel to Sweet Peas in April as a special thank you for reading Clare’s books and for reading all Pelican books.

  If you’ve downloaded Sweet Peas in April you’ll find Dutch Crocus full of familiar characters. If you haven’t yet read Sweet Peas, no worries! You can enjoy this story first!

  Happy reading!

  God Bless,

  Nicola

  Books by Clare Revell

  A Romantic Suspense for Every Day of the Week:

  Monday’s Child

  Tuesday’s Child

  Wednesday’s Child

  Thursday’s Child

  Friday’s Child

  Saturday’s Child

  Sunday’s Child

  Pure Amore™ Contemporary Romances

  Battle of the Flowers

  Keepsake

  Young Adult Signal Me Adventure Series

  November-Charlie

  Delta-Victor

  Echo-Foxtrot

  Single Title Romantic Suspense

  Turned

  After the Fire

  Passport to Romance™

  Vegas Vacation

  Welsh Wildfire

  Christmas Extravaganza™

  Down in Yon Forest

  Season for Miracles

  Time’s Arrow

  Fairytale of Headley Cross

  A Mummy for Christmas

  An Aussie Christmas Angel

  Christmas Eva

  Flowers Can be Fatal Series

  A Romantic Suspense for Every Month of the Year:

  Carnations in January

  Violets in February

  Daffodils in March

  Sweet peas in April

  Lily of the Valley in May

  Roses in June

  Water lilies in July

  Gladioli in August

  Forget-me-nots in September

  Marigolds in October

  ‘Mums in November

  Holly in December

  Clare’s Dedication

  For my readers

  Flowers can be Fatal

  Carnations in January shake the foundations

  Violets in February are an aid to salvation

  Daffodils in March bring betrayal and loss

  Sweet peas in April consume all the dross

  Lily of the Valley in May brings danger untold

  Roses in June show hope in a heart filled with gold

  Water lilies in July a town will submerge

  Gladioli in August love from the ash will emerge

  Forget-me-nots in September are on the front line of fear

  Marigolds in October will test her career

  Chrysanthemums in November show the burden of choice

  Holly in December lets a broken family rejoice

  Dutch crocuses bring the year to a close.

  The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.

  Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy. ~ Isaiah 35:1-2

  End of June

  Sam West leaned against the back door for support and watched her husband, Adam, kneeling in the dirt. Shirt tossed to the path beside him, sweat sheened his back in the heat of the morning sun as he planted crocus and tulip bulbs in the borders along the side fence. It should provide a riot of color in the spring.

  Dutch crocuses were a tiny multicolored flower that sometimes blossomed with twin blooms, and which budded in early spring, year on year. Sam loved their meaning—remembrance. She’d tried telling Adam that, ideally, they should be planted in autumn, but he wanted to do them now before he forgot.

  They were for Immy. Something to remember their daughter by, as the crocuses should bloom each year around the anniversary of the day they lost her.

  Sam gripped the cup in her outstretched hand, the sun reflecting off the wedding and engagement rings she wore. Even though the cup was at arm’s length, her stomach still churned in the nauseating way it had seemed to do constantly for the past couple of weeks.

  How swiftly life changed. At the start of April, she’d been alone, her marriage in ruins—ten years separated from the only man she’d ever loved, and now here they were, together, remarried and happy. He’d taken her on a surprise ‘honeymoon’ trip to Holland in the middle of May, arranging it all without her even guessing a thing. They’d ordered the bulbs whilst they were in Amsterdam.

  Due to arrive in mid-September, for an autumn planting, the bulbs had instead arrived ten weeks early.

  Adam glanced up at her and smiled. “Is that coffee?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye.

  Sam nodded, moving over to him. She swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

  His earth-covered fingers grazed hers as he took the cup. “Thanks, love.” He sat back on his heels. “I can’t remember the last time I did this. This is what Saturday mornings are made for. Gardening, flowers, being with my wife.”

  “I guess so.” She swa
llowed hard.

  “You OK, honey? You don’t look so good.”

  “Don’t feel it, to be honest. I might go lie down again.”

  Adam caught hold of her hand. “Sweetheart, isn’t it time you saw a doctor? You’ve been sick a good two weeks now.”

  “It’s just the stress of finding a new job, that’s all. You know, I’ve been out of work since the whole mess in April and…” She swallowed hard and pulled free. “Sorry.” She clamped a hand over her mouth and dashed inside.

  ~*~

  Adam watched Sam go, concern gnawing at his insides. This had been going on way too long for his liking. It had to be more than the simple stress she was insisting it was. She was throwing up far too frequently. She no longer drank anything but water, and would eat only plain toast—if he forced the issue. He’d tried telling her she didn’t need to work, they could manage just fine on his salary, but Sam was nothing if not fiery and independent. If he were honest, that was one of the things he loved about her.

  He drained his cup and pulled on his shirt, before heading to the house. At the doorstep, he toed off his muddy shoes and then crossed the kitchen to wash his hands before he went up to the bedroom to check on Sam. She lay curled on her side. Her brow glistened.

  “Adam?” Her hand reached out for him.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and cradled her face, not liking how warm and clammy she was. “I’m calling the doctor,” he said. “This is more than a simple stomach bug, and we both know it. And with me starting this big case next month, I’ll be working nineteen hour days again. I need to know you’re going to be OK.”

  She shook her head. “Leave it another week, and I’ll be fine. Just allergic to mornings.” Her eyes closed again.

  Adam sighed. Why wouldn’t she listen to him? Perhaps she’d listen to her aunt. And if not, perhaps her aunt would come and stay. He didn’t want Sam to be alone when she was this sick.

  He grabbed the phone from beside the bed and dialed. It rang twice. “Hi Aunt Lydia, its Adam.”

  “Hello. How are you, dear?”

  “I’m fine. Sam, on the other hand, isn’t too good. She’s been sick for a good couple of weeks now. I have a huge case starting on the sixth and probably lasting about five months. There’s no way I can be around to care for her like I want to be. Is there any chance you can come and stay for a week or so from the fifth onwards?”

  “Of course. How sick is she?”

  Adam sighed, ignoring the face Sam pulled at him. “Right now, she can’t even keep water down.”

  “Has she seen a doctor?”

  “This is Sam we’re talking about, Aunt Lydia. She won’t let me call.”

  “Don’t give her a choice. I’ll drive up tomorrow for a couple of days, but then I’ll have to leave. I have something here I need to do next week. I can come back to you around the tenth if that’s all right. Now, put her on the phone.”

  Adam gave Sam the phone and folded his arms. He watched his wife’s face change before she finally acquiesced and gave him back the phone. “OK?”

  Sam pulled a face at him.

  “It’s me again,” he said into the receiver.

  “She agreed. See you tomorrow.”

  “That’s wonderful. Thank you. See you tomorrow.” Adam hung up and looked at Sam. “She’s coming tomorrow for a day or two and will come and stay for a while from July tenth.”

  Sam groaned. “She’s worse than my mother was. She wants me to drink.”

  Adam handed her a glass of water. “Sip this.”

  “It won’t stay down.”

  “Don’t argue.” He watched her take a few sips and stood. “I’m going to go make that call.”

  Sending up a prayer for the sickness to ease, Adam reached for the church members’ directory. He hoped this wouldn’t come under the heading ‘breach of friendship’, but he was desperate. “Hey, Jackson, it’s Adam. I’m sorry to ring like this, mate. Especially on the weekend. I know how much you value your days off.”

  “Not a problem. What’s up?” Dr. Jackson Parker’s American accent rang in Adam’s ear.

  “It’s Sam. She’s been sick for a good two weeks now and can’t even keep water down. Could you come check her out for me before I take her down to the ED and waste their time? Sam reckons she’s just allergic to mornings and stressed.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  Before Jackson even arrived, Adam’s pager beeped, and he groaned.

  Sam looked at him. “Go. It’s fine.”

  “You need me more than work does.”

  She took his hand. “I’ll be OK. I’ll text you after Jackson’s been and tell you what he says.”

  Adam reluctantly headed to work. Three hours later when he felt his phone vibrate, his heart sank as he read Sam’s text.

  Jackson admitted me. On Robin Ward to be rehydrated.

  ~*~

  Sam lay curled up on the bed, the IV really not making any difference to how horrible she felt. The doctor had prescribed something for the nausea, but that was yet to kick in.

  “Sam?”

  She opened her eyes and reached for Adam’s hand. His lips were just as cold as his fingers. “You’re wet.”

  “It’s chucking it down.” He sat. “Why are you on maternity? I had to ask at main reception which part of the hospital—” He broke off as she held out the scan photo. “What’s this?”

  “Take a look,” she whispered, watching his face. Would he be pleased? Shocked? Scared? Because right now she was all three.

  Adam looked down at the black-and-white print out in his hand. “Honey?” From the blank look on his face, it was almost as if he’d never seen one of these before. Which she knew he had. Eleven years ago.

  Sam reached out a finger. “That’s a head,” she whispered. “And that’s another one.” She took his free hand and placed it on her stomach. “You’re going to be a daddy. Twice over.”

  Adam’s eyes glistened and his bottom lip trembled for an instant before he broke into a smile. “Oh, Sam…” He gently pulled her into a hug, and Sam gave in to the emotions which had filled her ever since Jackson told her what he suspected. Since then it had been a round of tests and scans and she hadn’t had time to think, never mind process anything.

  Her whole body shook. “I’m so scared,” she whispered.

  Adam’s hand rubbed her back. “I’m scared, too, honey.”

  She looked up at him, the tears on his cheeks matching the ones on hers. “What if we lose them, like we did Immy?”

  “Whatever happens we’re in God’s hands,” he whispered, kissing her. “So how about we take it to Him in prayer?”

  Mid July

  Sam looked at Aunt Lydia. “Honestly, I can’t eat anything.”

  “Sam, you’ll be back in hospital if you don’t at least try.” Aunt Lydia sighed. “And I don’t think any of us wants that.”

  Sam shook her head. She’d been in hospital surrounded by pregnant women for three weeks, and that was enough.

  “I’ll make soup.” Aunt Lydia moved to the TV and flicked it on. “While it’s heating though we can watch the quiz program you like, or the news.”

  Sam picked up her phone and checked it. No message from Adam. She’d barely seen him the past few days. He was tied up with a criminal case in the crown court—his first. He was acting as junior one of the other partners while running his own cases as well. If he found he enjoyed the work, the possibility was there to do more of the criminal side of the practice rather than just family law. The downside being the fact he was putting in eighteen hour days five days a week in court while Saturday’s were spent catching up with his other cases.

  She picked up the TV remote and changed the channel. “No…” Her breath caught in her throat and the remote fell from her hand. She shook her head. “Aunt Lydia!” she screamed.

  Aunt Lydia ran into the room. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it the babies?”

  Sam shook her head, pointing at the TV. The p
icture, taken from a helicopter, showed a wall of water bearing down on the town of Wolf Point—Aunt Lydia’s home. The rest of the footage was images of the submerged town.

  Aunt Lydia sank onto the sofa, tears running down her face. “It’s…gone…” she whispered.

  Sam reached blindly for her phone and hit speed dial praying Adam would pick up and wouldn’t be in a meeting.

  “What’s up, honey?” Adam answered.

  “I need you,” she whispered. “Can you come home?”

  “Not really, I’m in the middle of a case meeting. I only answered the phone because it was you and you’re sick. What’s up?”

  “There’s been a storm surge,” she managed. The pictures on the TV showed complete devastation, the whole of the south west coast declared a disaster area and off limits until the water receded. “Wolf Point is gone.”

  There was a short deep hiss of breath before Adam replied. “I’m on my way home.”

  ~*~

  The speed camera flashed as Adam flew passed, but he didn’t care. He also didn’t care it would be his second fine in less than a month. He’d gotten the first the day Sam was admitted to hospital. The radio filled him in on the storm and destruction as he drove. He could only imagine how Aunt Lydia felt.

  He arrived at the house to find Jackson’s car outside. Fearing the worst, he ran down the path and let himself in. “Sam!”

  “Here…”

  Adam ran into the lounge. Sam met him in the doorway and he threw his arms around her. “I saw Jackson’s car and I thought…”

  She kissed him. “I’m fine. Aunt Lydia’s just being over-protective, that’s all.”

  “In my defense, Sam fell down the step into the kitchen,” Aunt Lydia said.

  “And I’m fine,” Sam told him. “It’s Aunt Lydia we need to worry about. She’s lost everything.”

  Adam looked at Lydia. “Are you all right? The radio is full of the news of Wolf Point.”

  “At the end of the day it’s just a house and stuff, and it hasn’t really been a home since Gerry died fifteen years ago. I’m more worried about the lighthouse keepers. They haven’t found any of them yet. The lighthouse was destroyed—there’s nothing left apart from the base.”

  Jackson finished putting his things back into his bag. “I’ll be off.” He looked at Sam. “No more falling down stairs.”