by Lisa G Riley
“Define ignore.”
“Ignore. I’m sure you know what the word means.”
“I do,” Dr. Pendegrast agreed calmly. “But I want you to tell me what it meant in those instances after your father left.”
“It meant that I had to take care of myself completely,” Kendra said resentfully, angry because she’d been forced to talk about it. “My mother didn’t engage with me at all. There was no talking, laughing, or anything. No hugs, no kisses, not even a hello in the mornings. Is that what you want to hear?”
“And how did you cope with the situation?”
Kendra’s shrug was jerky but her voice was matter-of-fact. “I coped. I did what I had to do. No one else was going to do it.”
“What’s the earliest age you remember doing this?”
Unbidden, scenes flashed into Kendra’s mind. As if she were watching a movie, she saw herself as a smaller-than-average seven-year-old pushing a stool to the stove so she could see better; trying to flip over bacon like she’d seen her father do dozens of times; the quick snatch of burning pain when her palm slipped and hit the skillet’s handle; bacon and grease flying everywhere; and the screaming, painful trip to the emergency room. Her hand hovered over the shoulder that had been burned, afraid to touch. After all these years, she still felt the scorching pain of the accident.
“Kendra?”
“Sev—” She stopped and cleared a suddenly closed, blocked throat. “I was seven.” A tear rolled from the corner of her eye.
“And your father started leaving when you were how old?”
Kendra’s laugh was mirthless. “Doctor, I don’t remember a time when he didn’t leave. According to my mother, he’d been doing it since before they were married.”
“If that’s the case, Kendra, who took care of you in those years before you were seven?”
Kendra frowned. “I don’t know. I guess I did, or I went without until she came back to herself.”
“Was that fair to you?”
Tired and feeling completely drained, Kendra looked at Dr. Pendegrast. “Would it be fair to any child?”
“I’m talking about you. Was it fair to you? Didn’t you deserve to be taken care of properly?”
Panic returned. She saw where this was going. “I’m sure my mother did the best she could,” she defended.
“I’m sure she did too. But that’s not what I’m asking. What about you? Was her best fair to you?”
Angry, Kendra said nothing.
Dr. Pendegrast said, “You think about that, Kendra, because I’ll ask you it again—soon. Tell me, what would your mother say during your father’s absences?”
Relief flowed through Kendra, and she answered without hesitation. “She’d call him all kinds of names: worthless, irresponsible, deadbeat—all of which I agree with, by the way.” Her tone remained defensive.
Dr. Pendegrast nodded. “Uh-huh. And given that your mother said all of these negative things about your father leaving, how did it make you feel when she’d throw him a celebration when he came back?”
Alarm bells went off in her head, and Kendra straightened. She felt like she’d been led into a trap. “Isn’t my time up yet?”
Dr. Pendegrast looked at her watch. “We’ve got almost two minutes. How about spending the time usefully? How did it make you feel when your mother threw your father a celebration for what she essentially viewed as his bad behavior?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Kendra endeavored to explain. “She wasn’t rewarding him for bad behavior. The celebration was because she was happy he was back. He’d always come back eventually…” She trailed off uncomfortably.
“Okay,” Dr. Pendegrast said and prepared to stand. “Now our time is up. This is what I want you to think about until our next visit: if your father was always rewarded for turning back into a good boy and coming home, who got punished for the bad behavior that made it necessary for there to be good behavior in the first place?”
*
Kendra left Dr. Pendegrast’s office building and hurried through the parking lot, anxious to get away. “I guess it’s true that they always blame the mother,” she mumbled as she settled into her car.
As she pulled out of her spot, she noticed Dr. Pendegrast walking in the lot. The doctor noticed her as well and waved. Kendra waved back, frowning slightly because she couldn’t understand why she liked the doctor as much as she did.
Maneuvering her way through traffic and toward home, she tried to block out the memories from her childhood. She’d been successful at not remembering for all these years, and she begrudged the good doctor’s resurrecting the memories. Her father’s smiling, laughing face popped into her head, and she pushed it out. He was always laughing at something. It was probably because the jerk had been planning his escape all along. Ha-ha, joke’s on us.
She stopped at a red light just as her cell phone rang. A look at the caller ID told her it was her mother calling, and she felt guilt throb. She hadn’t told Camille that she was starting therapy, and she didn’t want to dwell on the reasons. There was guilt from that, but most of it was because she didn’t want to talk to Camille at that moment. Memories were too fresh. As she drove through the green light, Kendra decided to ignore her mother’s phone call, something she’d never done before. Wincing at the pain from a sudden headache, she took the phone and hid it beneath her purse, then let out a deep breath when the ringing became less strident.
She turned onto her street. I have to quit therapy. I won’t be able to deal with the headaches, and besides, Dr. Pendegrast doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing anyway. She consoled herself. “I can fix this myself.”
The headache had her blinking against the light by the time she arrived at her front door. “Oh God,” she mumbled as she turned her key in the lock. After closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and shut her eyes.
“Ken? Is that you?” Sloan called as he turned the corner from the hall. “How’d it go—What’s wrong? You look terrible.”
Kendra painstakingly raised her eyelids to look at him, the miracle in her life, and knew that there was no way she could drop out of therapy. She tried to smile. “Oh stop. You know flattery embarrasses me,” she said mildly as he kissed her.
Sloan only studied her face and seemed unready to accept another lie of omission. “What’s the matter?”
“I have a headache; that’s all.” She dropped her bag and made her way to the living room, where she sat gingerly on the sofa and leaned her head back.
“The session was that bad, huh? Or should I say it was that good?”
One eyelid lifted, and Kendra gave him the most baleful stare that she could muster. She raised her hand, and he watched as her middle finger came up.
His grin was unrepentant, and grabbing the finger to kiss it, he offered to get her some aspirin.
“Make it the extra-strength, heavy-duty stuff, will you?”
Later, Sloan sat on the sofa stroking her hair as he watched the evening news. She’d fallen asleep within ten minutes of taking the aspirin and lay with her head in his lap. He glanced down at her now-relaxed face, wondering what could have happened during that first therapy session. Whatever it was, he hoped it kept happening. Progress was often painful.
Chapter Fourteen
June in Chicago was mostly a one-two punch of rain and wind. Though the temperature was quite warm, every day brought more storms. The sight of the pouring rain and the sound of the wind shaking the windowpanes had Kendra and Sloan working from home that day.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kendra watched as Sloan stood and stretched, then walked over to stare out the window. He was restless. Kyle had been with them for close to two weeks—longer than he’d ever stayed before—and they’d wondered together if his brother was having second thoughts about going back to Lake Tahoe. They were also on edge because Sloan was no closer to catching the embezzler.
“For God’s sake, honey,” Kendra said as she looked fully at him fo
r a few seconds before going back to her work. “You haven’t been still for more than ten minutes today. You’re worse than a caged animal. Should we go running to take your mind off things?” she offered and pushed her glasses up on her nose.
“You want to go running in the rain?”
“Not particularly, no, but I know it bothers you that the state’s attorney’s office is trying to push its way into your embezzlement issue, and if running will help you get your mind off things”—she shrugged distractedly and pushed at her loose ponytail—“then I’ll do it.” She finished reading and looked up from her work again, only to find him standing over her desk staring intently at her.
Heat immediately rolled low in her stomach, and her thighs predictably went slack. She knew that look. Licking her lips, she slowly stood, pushing her chair back. Eyes glued to his and already feeling breathless and slightly giddy, she started backing away. “I see you’ve thought of another way to take your mind off things, buuut”—she drew the word out as she rounded the side of the desk opposite from where he stood—“you’ll have to catch me first.”
Grinning hugely and breathing heavily in anticipation, she sprinted out of the office, having no doubt that he would follow.
Two and a half hours later, Sloan exited the bathroom, pulling a clean T-shirt over his newly washed head. Kendra moaned in her sleep, and he smiled as he walked over to the bed. She was worn-out and passed out. He’d been demanding, but she’d met him demand for demand, he thought as he snagged her panties that were hanging from the post at the foot of the bed. The smell of her wafted up from the material, making his dick twitch in remembrance and perhaps a little anticipation.
The hopeful thought was squashed before it could really begin, however, because just at that moment Kendra shifted and moaned again. Sloan knew she was probably sore, and he tossed the panties into the hamper. “Poor baby.” He walked over to bend and kiss her naked shoulder. The bed was a wreck, with pillows and covers strewn everywhere. Even a corner of the fitted sheet had come undone. He managed to untangle the top sheet and blanket so he could completely cover her sleeping form. “Thank you for that great distraction, baby,” he whispered against her relaxed mouth as he pressed a kiss there. She sighed.
He heard the front door slam and left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. After following the noises down to the kitchen, he saw Kyle with his head buried in the open refrigerator. “What’s up, chump?” he asked. He laughed when Kyle jolted and bumped his head.
Kyle turned with a smile as he rubbed his head. “Hey. I didn’t know you were home.”
“Kendra and I decided to avoid the rain and work here today,” Sloan answered and gestured to the food in Kyle’s hands. “I’ll have what you’re having—make it two.”
“Gouda or cheddar?” Kyle asked as he began piling thick slices of turkey on sourdough bread. “Kendra’s here too, huh?” His look was thoughtful as he studied Sloan. “Where is she? Does she want a sandwich too? Or like you, did she have a sudden need for a shower in the middle of the afternoon?” he asked slyly.
Sloan figured Kyle had seen that his hair was wet, but as he leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles all he said was, “Kendra won’t be joining us. And I’ll take Gouda, thanks.”
“I know why I’m so hungry. Tell me,” Kyle said as he began making the third of four sandwiches, “why are you? Does it have anything to do with this working”—he made air quotation marks as he said the word—“at home business, and if so, does that require nakedness with the opposite sex? If it does, can I have a job?”
Sloan just shook his head and walked over to the refrigerator. “Beer, pop, or water?”
Kyle’s laugh was deep and knowing when he didn’t get a rise out of Sloan. “Water, thanks.” He put the finishing touches on the fourth sandwich and opened the cabinet for potato chips. He took out industrial-sized bags of barbecue and sour-cream-andonion flavored.
With two bottles of water in one hand, Sloan grabbed a plate and a bag of chips with the other, leaving the other bag for Kyle. He led the way to the dining-room table and was settling into his chair when he remembered something. “Wait. Kendra’s always reminding me to eat healthy. I’ll be right back.”
Kyle, who had already taken a huge bite out of one of his sandwiches, swallowed and said, “Whatever you’re getting, bring me two.”
Sloan came back with a bowl full of fruit and set it between them with the bags of chips. “That ought to do it,” he said in satisfaction as he resumed his seat. “How was your night?”
A huge grin wreathed Kyle’s face. “Great.”
Sloan sighed. “Do I know her?”
“Who said anything about a woman?”
“Just tell me who she is.”
“She works at the concierge’s desk downstairs.”
Now Sloan was surprised, though he didn’t know why. “You slept with Theresa Juarez?”
“Some things are best left private. All I’ll say is that we spent a very stimulating night together.”
“You know if you hurt her, Kendra will kill you, don’t you? She considers Theresa a friend.”
“Relax,” Kyle told him. “Theresa’s a grown woman, and we understand each other very well.”
“Debaucher.”
“Sure am,” Kyle agreed happily.
“Is Theresa the one keeping you in Chicago?”
Surprise flew across Kyle’s face. “What? Of course not. I mean, I like her, and we have a good time and everything, but that’s all there is to it. Besides, there are women in Tahoe—beautiful ones waiting for me to bring my magic back to town. I just haven’t felt like leaving yet.”
“But why?”
“Why does there have to be a reason?”
Sloan noticed the defensiveness in Kyle’s voice. Something was definitely up with him. “There’s a reason for everything.”
“Well, there isn’t this time.”
“Mm-hm,” Sloan said absently as he went over what Kyle had just said. He smiled slowly. “I get it. It’s that FBI agent, isn’t it? The one who you haven’t been able to stop talking about since you got here. What gives?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Right.” Sloan’s reply was patently skeptical. “Just tell me,” he said and laughed as Kyle grumbled about the agent’s mistrust and dislike of him. It seemed his brother was finally getting tripped up by a woman. It was about damned time.
“Shut up,” Kyle told him.
Sloan cracked up even more. “Make me,” he said in a whiny voice before standing to take the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
Kyle followed him. “But seriously,” he began as he threw their empty bottles away, “I’ll be leaving soon so I can get ready for that poker game.”
“When?”
“My flight leaves on Tuesday.”
“What about the venture capitalists? When do you expect to hear answers from them?”
Kyle washed his hands at the sink. “I don’t really know. I’m told that these things can’t be rushed, so I’m trying to be patient. Of course, I hope to hear from them soon. I’ve given them my cell-phone number, but just in case, I left your house telephone number with them as well. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” Sloan affirmed as they left the kitchen for the living room. He listened as Kyle told him what his plans were for the FBI when he got back to Tahoe. He shook his head. “Just be careful. Kendra and I will miss you.”
Kyle laughed. “Not too much, I’m sure. I heard you trying to, uh…let’s say convince her to make love one night. And in her answer, I heard my name come up. I put two and two together and knew I’d outstayed my welcome.”
“Well, if you heard that much, then you probably also heard that in the end, she was quite happy to be convinced.”
“I only heard what I heard because I happened to be going to the bathroom. It’s no big deal.”
“I know it isn’t, but Kendra feels that it is. Is that wh
y you’ve been staying out all night so much lately?”
“Hell no. I was staying out so much because I was getting my own nooky.”
“Well, I’m sure Kendra will be glad to hear that our lovemaking wasn’t keeping you away.”
“Yeah, and if I thought you’d be crazy enough to actually tell her that, I’d stick around just to hear the results. How’s her therapy going, by the way?”
“She’s only had one session,” Sloan explained. “But it must have been a doozy, because she came home with a headache and went right to sleep. Her next session is tonight.”
“What is she saying about it?”
“She hasn’t brought it up, and I’m not going to push her. She’ll talk to me when she’s ready.”
“Do you think the therapy will help the situation?”
“Only if Kendra will let it.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m glad you’re here,” Camille said from the table as Kendra joined her in the kitchen. “Imagine my surprise last night when I got your call asking if you could come over for church.”
“Sorry it was such short notice, Mom,” Kendra said and bent to hug her mother from behind. She pressed a kiss on top of Camille’s head when Camille’s hands came up to pat her arms. Kendra sat down at the small table and began shredding the cheese for the homemade macaroni-and-cheese dish her mother planned for that afternoon. “I just wanted to come over,” she lied nervously. The last place she wanted to be was there with her mother—at least not under the current circumstances. Damn Dr. Pendegrast, anyway.
“Did you enjoy services this morning?” Camille asked as she continued to peel sweet potatoes.
Camille had converted to the Baptist faith several years before, and Kendra was still adjusting to the differences between it and Catholicism. “Oh yes, Pastor Mark was really on his game today. But I don’t know how you do it. Making it on time every Sunday morning for seven-o’clock services has got to be really hard.”
