“Bring her right over!” Rose said, making Ginger inherently grateful for the close proximity of her neighbors. The Rolsons lived about ten houses down on the opposite side of the street.
It took Ginger exactly three and a half minutes to get to the Rolsons, and another three minutes to say goodbye to Hazel. She had never left her daughter with anyone before, not even Beau.
She forced down the wave of nausea and fought the tunnel vision, thankful for the short drive she knew by heart, but nothing could have prepared her for the scene at The Ginger Paddle.
Cars filled the parking lot and lined the street, and the inside of the small café was down to standing room only, with several metal chairs having been dragged out from the office and pulled alongside the small booths and bistro tables scattered throughout. Fifty people was a gross underestimate, And Ginger wondered if they were breaking the Fire Marshall’s maximum occupancy allowance which was only eighty people.
Several people called out a greeting as she entered, and she knew everyone there, but the faces blurred, swimming in front of her like a gurgling ocean ready to swallow her whole. Pushing her way through the crowd, Ginger forced herself to breathe through the pain gripping her chest. She set her eyes on the counter, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other until she was standing behind it. She didn’t stop to chat with Amber, there was no time. A line was forming out the door.
Taking order after order, Ginger, refused to glance up from the cash register and into the sea of people. If she could have entered the orders with her eyes closed, she would have.
The first dozen or so orders were easy enough to get through. She didn’t recognize the voices, and they didn’t stop and try to chat with her, anxious to get their orders in and keep the line moving. For that Ginger was grateful.
The noise level in the dining area was deafening and constant, a rumble of incessant white noise, and the clatter of plates and chopsticks. Even the laughter was grating, the walls seemed to be closing in on her.
“Ginger? Ginger? Are you all right?”
She forced herself to look up, and found herself staring into the concerned face of Dr. Marcus Devon. Bile rose in her throat at the swift movement, and she swayed, her extremities numb. She tried to focus on just him, and not the sea of faces beyond him, but it was too late. She shouldn’t have looked up. She couldn’t feel her legs, and when she looked down at the cash register, her hands were shaking across the keys. Everything went black, and she was aware of her body sliding onto the floor, and the sound of Amber screaming from the kitchen behind her.
* * * * *
Ginger and Hazel weren’t home when Beau got back from running errands, but he didn’t think much of it. He quickly unloaded the bags of groceries from the car and set to work putting them away, humming to himself as he worked.
He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was still a little worried about his wife. Things were great between them, better than ever in his opinion, but Ginger didn’t seem quite like herself. She hadn’t, as he liked to say, gotten “her ginger up” in some time, and he found that slightly worrisome, but maybe it wasn’t, he reminded himself. Maybe a calmer Ginger was just part of their new normal they were making.
“Don’t borrow trouble, Beau,” he muttered to himself as he stacked cans of vegetables in the pantry. He should be ecstatic. Things were going well between them, and he didn’t think he had ever been happier. Truly leading in his home, he realized, was a very new thing for them, and it had opened up their relationship to a whole new level. They communicated better, and their relationship had an intimacy that had never been there before. Not to mention, the sex was mind-blowing.
And, Beau thought, digging in the last grocery bag until he found what he was looking for, it could be getting even more so. He wrapped his hand around the oddly shaped root with a triumphant smile. Ginger, if they tried it, would be a new experience for them. It had been off the table previously, but then, so had a lot of things that she no longer seemed to take exception to.
He wanted to try it, but if she wasn’t up for it, he would just make some Thai food. As far as he was concerned, it was a win-win situation. He couldn’t go wrong either way.
He put the vegetables away, taking care to hide the ginger in the very back of the crisper. Was he supposed to refrigerate it at all? He honestly didn’t know.
With a shrug, he left it and began to clean up the kitchen mess. Ginger must have been home not too long ago, because she had obviously eaten lunch here. The mayonnaise was still out on the counter, and a half of a sandwich sat on the dining table with a glass of water and a banana peel.
Ginger was a bit of a neat freak, and it was unlike her to leave dishes lying around after a meal, but then, a lot had changed. He was more than happy to take the bad with the good. He cleaned up happily, and was just getting ready to make his own lunch when the phone rang.
* * * * *
“Ginger! Oh my god!”
“What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Can you hear me?”
These were the things she heard as she lay on the cold tile floor behind the counter. A litany of concerned questioners who were obviously extremely close by, and the persistent buzz of the crowd behind them, which if possible, had gotten even louder than before.
She didn’t want to open her eyes. Didn’t want to face the knowing gaze of Dr. Devon or the concerned onlookers. She just wanted to sink into the floor and disappear and be magically transported to the comfort of her own bed. She just wanted her baby, and her husband, and—Oh god! Beau! They would call Beau for sure!
She didn’t want that to happen. She wasn’t sure she could take it if he saw her like this. She forced her eyes open, looking straight into the dark and confused gaze of the man in question. Well, crap. How did that happen so fast? Had he already been here, and she hadn’t noticed or had she been on the floor a lot longer than she thought? She thought it had only been a few minutes while she got her bearings, but then again, it would only take him a few minutes to get there from home.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” she hurriedly asserted, struggling to pull herself into a sitting position.
Beau immediately had his arms around her, coming to her aid and making space in the crowd behind them. She forced herself to her feet, leaning heavily on Beau’s arm for support. Her knees were shaking, and her legs had all the strength of a bowl of Jello.
“Are you all right? Can you stand? Do you want me to carry you?”
“I’m fine!” She wrenched from his grasp and turned, positioning herself in front of the cash register, bracing herself against the counter to keep her legs from falling out from under her.
“Who’s next?” Her voice rang into the crowd, but nobody approached. To her dismay, they all stepped backwards instead. “C’mon people, let’s get this line moving! I haven’t got all day!” To her horror, her voice cracked on the last word.
“No, You haven’t got all day,” Beau agreed, coming up behind her. “In fact, you haven’t got five minutes. This is ridiculous. You’ve just fainted. You’re not going to get up and keep working! We’ve got to get you in to see the doctor.” He scooped her into his arms and in one swift and fluid motion, began to make his way through the sea of people.
“Beau, what are you talking about? Put me down this instant. I don’t need to see the doctor—I just saw him! See, he’s right there! I just got overwhelmed, honey, but I’m fine now. I demand that you put me down this instant!”
Beau kept going, ignoring her completely, pausing only when he got to the doors at the front of the restaurant. “Marcus?” he called out over her head. “I’ll meet you at the clinic?”
“I’m right behind you,” the doctor affirmed.
“Beau!” Ginger cried, squirming against him, trying in vain to free herself from his hold. “This place is a mad house! I can’t leave Amber here all alone!”
“Don’t worry,” he replied gruffly. “Jonathan is handlin
g it.”
She looked over his shoulder to see her friend, armed with his ever present clipboard, step forward to take her place at the register.
Chapter Nine
Beau paced the floor of the small makeshift exam room in Marcus’ home as the doctor took Ginger’s vitals. Ginger was still protesting loudly, arguing with both of them every step of the way.
“Blood pressure is a little high, but no surprise there. That’s to be expected.” Marcus murmured, putting the cuff back into its place on the wall and stepping forward with a fresh thermometer. “Open your mouth, and lift up your tongue.”
Ginger glared at him. “This is absurd. It’s obvious that I don’t have a fever. I’m not sick.” She clamped her lips shut, refusing to cooperate.
Marcus raised his eyebrows and looked silently across the room at him. His expression seemed to ask, “Do you want to handle this, or should I?”
Beau stepped forward. “Ginger, open your mouth this instant, or I will pick you up, flip you over this table, bare your bottom, and take your temperature myself, after I teach you an old-fashioned lesson in cooperation and obedience.”
Ginger’s eyes blazed with anger and more than a hint of defiance. She blushed to the roots of her hair, but her mouth stayed clamped tight, and Beau wondered if he would actually have to follow through.
“You wouldn’t,” she challenged.
“Are you sure about that?” he countered.
She hesitated, gauging him carefully as she considered whether or not he would actually do it.
He stepped forward menacingly.
Her mouth popped open and Marcus silently slid the thermometer under her tongue, leaving it there for only a minute before giving it a cursory glance and chucking it into the nearby trash can. “It’s normal.”
“Duh,” she said it lightly under her breath, but still loud enough for them both to hear.
“Okay then,” Beau spoke tightly, trying to keep his annoyance under wraps, “I didn’t realize you had a medical degree, but why don’t you explain to us why you suddenly passed out cold in front of half the town?
“Because,” she spoke slowly, and he was sure she was purposefully talking down to them. “I’m fine. It was just too much. I haven’t been to work in a long time, so I’m not used to the…the people or the noise, and it was just too much too soon. I got overwhelmed. End of story.”
Except, it was not the end of the story as far as Beau was concerned. “Excuse me? What do you mean you haven’t been going to work? I thought we agreed you would go in at least an hour every day. Have you been lying to me?”
“No!” Ginger began to backtrack, looking panicked. “That came out wrong! I’ve been going in every day, I promise, but I usually go before we are open in the morning, before opening!”
Beau’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”
“Inventory, paperwork, invoices, scheduling, those can all be done anytime. If I go in the morning, I don’t have to worry about getting in Laney’s way, and Hazel is still in a good mood. I can get everything done and leave before she needs a nap, and not worry about having to get a sitter.”
“I see. Is that the only reason?”
“Yes!” Ginger declared emphatically, and Beau could tell she was lying this time.
He frowned. Maybe this was not the place for this discussion. Maybe they would be better off having this discussion in private. Then, he could if necessary, get to the bottom of things by way of her bare bottom.
“Fine, we’ll discuss this further at home if Dr. Devon has no objections.”
“No objections,” Marcus agreed. “But, Beau, if Ginger doesn’t mind, I would like to speak with you privately for a moment.”
“Actually, I do mind,” she intoned sarcastically. “I’m right here, and I have all my sensibilities intact. There’s no need for you to talk behind my back.”
“Fine,” Dr. Devon said with a sigh. “What I think we are dealing with here is a pretty run of the mill case of post-partum anxiety. It is fairly common, but without Ginger’s full cooperation, I have no way of knowing how severe a case we are dealing with. I don’t think there is too much cause for concern at this point, and we should be able to get it under control quickly and easily now that we are aware of it. However, it has come to my attention from several residents that this may not be the first time Ginger has had an attack like this. To my knowledge, it has happened at least one other time.”
Beau gasped, dumbfounded at the new information. “Ginger, is this true?”
She refused to answer, keeping her gaze trained on a spot on the ceiling above her head.
The doctor gave him a knowing look before continuing. “For that reason, I’m going to suggest a series of sessions with Traci Jackson, Corbin’s Bend’s therapist, along with a regimen of daily exercise and a variety of herbal supplements. After a few weeks, I’ll confer with you both, and with Traci, and we will reassess. If those things don’t seem to be helping, I may have to prescribe something for depression and anxiety, but I don’t honestly think it will come to that.”
Beau couldn’t comprehend what the doctor was saying. It felt surreal, like a conversation he was watching take place, instead of one he was a part of. How could he not have known any of this? Depression? Anxiety? Panic Attacks? He had not had a clue, not even the slightest inkling. Had Ginger? According to the doctor, she had. Why had she not said anything?
His eyes darted to where she still sat on the exam table, and found her silently sobbing, with her eyes closed. Tears fell fast down her face, landing with a splat on the filmy paper that covered the sterile exam table.
His heart broke seeing her in pain like that, and not being able to scoop her up in his arms and kiss it all better. He moved towards her quickly, and she pulled away from him. Beyond the tears and raw pain and brokenness, he could see on the outside was the strong independent woman hiding behind carefully constructed walls she built up around herself. He was too late.
“Ginger, are you hearing me? Can you agree to that, please, or give me some indication that you’re even listening?” Marcus addressed only her, but she gazed past him, her eyes cool and vacant.
He shrugged his shoulders in Beau’s direction, looking helpless.
“I heard you, Doctor,” Beau assured him. “I’ll take care of it.”
Marcus nodded, and with sagging shoulders, turned and exited the room.
* * * * *
The ride home was silent, at least from Ginger’s side of the car. Beau tried his best to engage her, but she stubbornly stonewalled him at every turn.
“When did you start having panic attacks?” he questioned her, shortly after they got in the car to head home.
No answer.
“How many times has this happened?” he tried hopefully.
Nothing. She stared out the window, refusing to even glance in his direction.
“Ginger, this is serious. I’m your husband. It’s my job to take care of you. How am I supposed to do that if you’re not being truthful with me and pushing me out?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted flatly.
He turned sharply into their driveway and stared at her aghast. “You are not fine! This is not fine!” His hand pounded the steering wheel in frustration. “Were you even listening to Dr. Devon? Depression, anxiety, panic attacks? Ginger, that is serious stuff!”
“Marcus doesn’t know what he is talking about.”
“Excuse me?” Beau couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re being very rude and disrespectful. I am warning you right now, you better change your tune, and fast!”
“Beau, I’m fine! I just…there were too many people, and it was my first time being away from Hazel, and I didn’t have time to eat before Amber called. If Dr. Devon would have done his job, and checked my blood sugar, he would have seen that that was the only real problem I was having.”
She was lying, and he knew it. He had cleaned up her lunch dishes, for god’s sake. She obviously didn�
�t realize that he had already been home before getting the call from Jonathan.
“Stop it. You lied to me in the clinic, and you’re lying now. This is not a joke. This is a big deal. You got lucky today that you were in a restaurant full of people including Dr. Devon, and not at home alone with Hazel. It could have been much worse.”
He swallowed thickly, realizing at once how very true this was, as a barrage of worst-case scenarios bombarded him each more dangerous than the last.
“You should be thanking Dr. Devon, not questioning his methods.”
She continued to ignore him, staring mutely out the window. Was he getting through to her at all? He really couldn’t tell. At a loss for what else to say, he gave up.
“Where’s Hazel, again? I’ll go get her. You go inside and rest.”
She couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. “She’s at the Rolsons!”
* * * * *
She had a spanking coming, she just knew it. She had lied to Beau twice, and he had caught her at it. It would be her first punishment spanking since they had updated their arrangement, and even though she was nervous, and full of dread, she was almost looking forward to it. She knew it would be harsh, Beau didn’t tolerate lying at all, and she knew she would cry.
With the tears she knew she would shed, would come a loss of inhibitions. She felt the most free to be herself after a hard spanking. The crippling fears and layers of self-loathing seemed to melt away with each blow of the paddle against her bare bottom. She shivered in anticipation, knowing that she would have to wait until night time, after Hazel went to bed.
The waiting was the hardest part, and the newest. Before Hazel had come along, when a spanking was warranted, it was always delivered swiftly and immediately.
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