As I entered the seclusion room, I gave her a quick visual. She was still curled in a ball, her pale arms wrapped around her torso with both small hands on her shoulders, as if she were trying to hold herself together.
“Heather, do you feel up to a visit with Daniel now?”
Heather twitched at the sound, then slowly rolled over. Her voice was pleading and her eyes flooded with tears as she said, “I need to see him.”
“Okay, but you’ll have to come out with me because we don’t allow visitors in the seclusion rooms. Are you feeling strong enough to stand?”
She was already pulling herself up into a sitting position.
When we entered the lounge area, Daniel jumped to his feet—and froze as he took in the sight of his wife slowly shuffling beside me, the bandages on her wrist, the hospital blue pajamas, the blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders like an old woman’s shawl.
“Daniel!” she cried out.
“Oh, sweetie,” he said as he gathered her into her arms. “You can’t scare me like that again.”
Once a patient has been in for a few days we leave them alone with their visitors, but I wanted to see how Daniel and Heather interacted—in case Daniel was part of the problem. I sat in one of the chairs a little to the side.
Daniel gently helped Heather lower herself before taking a seat. Heather rested her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her back, supporting her.
“I’m sorry, Daniel.” Heather’s voice was raw with emotion. “I hate what I’m doing to you. You shouldn’t have to take care of me all the time.”
A red flag. Suicidal patients try to convince themselves that people would be better off without them.
Daniel said, “Don’t talk like that. I love you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to take care of you forever.” As though to prove his point, he pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, tucking it around her neck where the hospital pajamas had drifted down, revealing the hollow of her thin collarbone.
She clearly wasn’t frightened of Daniel, so I decided to leave and finish my rounds. Then Heather, speaking slightly under her breath, said something that caught my attention.
“I told the doctor about how they keep calling.”
“What did you say?” Daniel didn’t sound upset, just a little worried.
“Not much, I don’t think…I’m confused, and my head feels funny. Are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad, sweetie. But maybe you shouldn’t think about any of that right now, just think about getting better. We can talk about everything else another day.” His face was earnest, making sure she understood.
“Do you think Emily knows…what I did?”
“No, they probably wouldn’t have told her at the center.”
Heather nodded, then glanced up at the camera in the corner. She’d also glanced at it when she first sat down, and I wondered if she’d been at a treatment center where patients were monitored.
“Is there someone you’d like me to contact for you?” I said.
Heather looked at Daniel. He shook his head, just a slight movement, but she nodded back, acquiescing to whatever he’d just silenced.
I said, “It would help my treatment plan for Heather if you told me what program you were attending.”
Heather rested her hand on his Daniel’s leg, her eyes pleading with him. Daniel’s were focused on her bandages, then he turned to me.
“We used to live at a spiritual center. It’s out in Jordan River. We left when Heather got pregnant because she didn’t want to have the baby there. Some of the members have been calling to make sure we’re okay. They’re nice people.”
I’d heard that there was a center out in Jordan River, a spiritual retreat of sorts that was well respected, but I didn’t know much else about them.
Heather had started to cry again, her shoulders shaking.
“They made me feel like it was my fault I lost the baby.”
“They don’t really believe it’s your fault—no one thinks that,” Daniel said. “They’re just trying to help, sweetie. You were doing so well.”
Heather was crying harder now, her face twisted.
“I didn’t like how they’re always telling us what to do. They—”
“Heather, stop— you don’t know what you’re saying.” Daniel’s eyes shot to my face, his voice concerned and his expression helpless. “They have rules, Dr. Lavoie, but they’re so we can stay focused on the workshops.”
Heather and Daniel clearly weren’t on the same page about the center, but she didn’t want to contradict Daniel in front of me. She kept glancing at him. Is it okay that I’m saying this? Do you still love me?
She gazed at him now, her hands gripping her blanket tight around her.
“They wouldn’t let me say good-bye to Emily.”
This was the second time Heather had mentioned Emily.
“Emily didn’t want to leave with us, remember? She loves it at the center. I know you miss her, but you need to worry about yourself and the bab—”
Heather recoiled like he’d hit her.
Daniel said, “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. It was just habit.”
Heather’s eyes had gone dark and empty again, her hands dropped by her sides, palms up—defeated.
“It’s my fault I lost the baby. You’re mad at me.”
“It’s not your fault, Heather—and I’m not mad at you.” In a voice so loving and sad it made my heart hurt, he added, “You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”
“They said we should stay. They said it was better for our baby— and maybe they were right. I made you leave, and now the baby’s dead.”
“Heather, stop.” Daniel was rubbing her back. “Don’t say things like that.” He put his face close to hers. “Hey, look at me.” But Heather was just staring at the wall now, her expression blank.
I didn’t want to push things too much, especially with Heather starting to dissociate from the conversation, but I was concerned about why she was blaming herself so much for the loss of her baby.
“Why did you want to leave the center, Heather?”
She began to rock, her arms wrapped around her body.
“They said that all adults are the child’s parents. So everyone helps raise them, and they don’t even stay with you.”
The horror in her face made it clear that this hadn’t sat well with her.
“At the center, they believe it’s better for the baby’s spiritual growth to be loved by many hearts,” Daniel said. “They have highly trained caregivers.”
This center sounded highly controlling. I turned to Heather.
“But you didn’t want to share your child?”
She nodded and glanced at Daniel, who stared down at Heather’s bandages again. She looked like she wanted to explain herself more, but then she reached out and held Daniel’s hand. He gave it a small squeeze.
“I think I was wrong, though,” she said. “We should’ve stayed. Then I wouldn’t have miscarried.”
I said, “How can you know that you wouldn’t have miscarried even if you had stayed? Did they actually tell you that you were responsible?”
“They didn’t say it was our fault,” Daniel said. “They were just worried that Heather had gotten herself too stressed out by moving.”
In other words, they had implied that it was her fault.
“What is this center called?” I said.
Daniel sat straighter, his shoulders proud.
“The River of Life Spiritual Center.”
Something tickled at the back of my mind, followed by an uncomfortable feeling of dread settling in my stomach.
“Who runs it?”
“Aaron Quinn. He’s the director of all the programs at the center.”
Aaron Quinn. He said Aaron Quinn.
It couldn’t be the same man.
Heather’s voice was a whisper. “Most of the members call it the commune.”
The commune. I hadn�
��t heard that name in years. I hadn’t wanted to hear it ever again. I stared at Heather, trying to think, my heart thudding in my ears.
“Dr. Lavoie?” Heather’s blue eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “Do you think it’s my fault the baby died?”
It took a second for me to refocus my thoughts. You have a patient, and she needs your help.
“No, I don’t think it’s your fault. You made a decision you thought was best for your child—you were just being good parents.” I talked on for a minute or two, heard the comforting words coming out of my mouth. But all the while my head was filled with a dull roar, the sound of fate and life colliding. Because what I couldn’t tell them was that I knew Aaron Quinn.
I knew exactly who he was.
Also by Chevy Stevens
Always Watching
Never Knowing
Still Missing
About the Author
Author Photo credit: Suzanne Teresa www.suzanneteresa.com
CHEVY STEVENS grew up on a ranch on Vancouver Island and still lives on the island with her husband and daughter. When she’s not working on her next book, she’s camping and canoeing with her family in the local mountains. Her debut novel, Still Missing, won the International Thriller Writers Award for Best First Novel. Please visit her at www.chevystevens.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE OTHER SIDE. Copyright © 2013 by Chevy Stevens Holdings Ltd. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Excerpt from Always Watching copyright © 2013 by Chevy Stevens Holdings Ltd.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover photographs by Shutterstock.com
e-ISBN 9781466832992
First Edition: April 2013
The Other Side Page 4
