by Dale Mayer
Or afraid of being caught.
They were similar but also slightly different, and just different enough to make him ponder her actions.
That it was the policeman she was afraid of made him think she’d been involved in something illegal. Possibly she’d skirted around a crime or seen something. He knew he could speculate endlessly and still not be correct given the myriad of possible circumstances, but he couldn’t stop his mind from working the issues.
“What made you go into nursing?” Was that a neutral enough topic to be safe to bring up?
“I love babies.”
Good choice, as her voice softened as she answered.
“What’s the hardest part of your job?” he asked again, hoping to keep her mind off the scenario back at the hotel.
“Mothers who don’t appreciate what they have,” she answered shortly.
He glanced over at her in surprise. “I thought it would be the sick babies or the ones that can’t be saved, or the disabilities…infant deaths.”
She nodded. “Those are all hard to deal with. And there are so many in different situations that you never get used to it as each baby has its own personality. Each mother has her own story, her own personality as well.” She shrugged. “In a way, the babies are part of the circle of life. It’s terrible and heartbreaking but almost understandable.” Her voice hardened as she added, “But the mothers who didn’t want their child, or who aren’t happy with the sex of their child, or…” Stopping mid-sentence, then her voice quieted. “You get my meaning.”
He did. “That’s understandable. Especially as it’s something you really want and can’t have.”
“Exactly. It also makes you wonder what kind of life those children are going to have if they are not wanted in the first place.”
He peered closer at her, hearing a different note enter her voice. “Is that what happened to you? Were you and your brother not wanted?”
“Who knows?” She shrugged. “Our mother took off when we were little.”
“Maybe there was good reason?”
“Sure.” Paris gave a short hard laugh. “She was a victim of domestic abuse and was strong enough to get the hell out.”
Oh hell. “But not strong enough to take you with her,” he guessed.
“Nope. And with her gone, who do you think he turned to next?”
Shit. So much for trying to find a neutral topic.
He squeezed her arm in commiseration and pointed out a fancy old car parked on the other side of the road. Anything to get away from the dangerous memories of her past.
And his.
Chapter 12
Paris wanted to laugh. She was outside in Vancouver walking with a very attractive man, about to go and have dinner. Not exactly a date, but better than the guys that belonged to the gang at work going for lunch. It’s not that she hadn’t been able to date – she’d had lots of opportunities, but she hadn’t been able to trust the men. So she’d brushed them off. Good men most likely, but because she was such a basket case, she hadn’t been able to take that step. It would have been too difficult to explain any of her problems to them even if she wanted to. Here Weaver already knew she had problems – hell, it was a given in a workshop like this. And he had his own issues to deal with whether he was ready to acknowledge them or not.
That almost put them on equal ground. It removed that big elephant in the room when you went out on a date wondering how much you should explain. I’m a virgin. I’ve been abused. I have father issues in the biggest way. Or the steps that went way beyond that.
I’m terrified of the law. I’m terrified that it made a mistake. That it’s waiting for me to screw up so it can get a second shot at me.
None of those were conversational starters. Yet she could likely say that to Weaver.
If he said things like that to her, she wouldn’t have a problem. She understood he probably shouldn’t have mentioned the report to her but at the same time, she’d rather know now instead of later. What a betrayal it would’ve been if he hadn’t said anything until later.
And maybe there was more betrayal to come. Anything was possible and she had no idea.
It was almost a given according to Sean. He’d been of the opinion that if you didn’t get involved, then you didn’t get hurt. At least that was his belief before he’d met Robin. That was funny to remember how much he’d changed. It was seriously a joy to watch how happy her brother was now. And…yes, she was jealous. She loved his partner, and that made it easier. If he’d dropped his sister in favor of a partner, that would have been very difficult for Paris. But he hadn’t, and the bonds between the three of them had deepened.
Watching him grow gave her hope, and now her only concern was she didn’t want to be left behind.
She wanted a partner too. Or at least know that there was the possibility of one in her life. Weaver wasn’t it, and that was okay too, for the most part. He was his own person with his own needs and he had seen too much of her ugly side. He’d also been involved with someone from therapy before and wasn’t looking for a repeat of that disaster. That was understandable. Likely it wouldn’t be a good choice for her either.
Although it had worked out beautifully for Sean and Robin. Those two were made for each other.
So who the hell was she made for?
“Thoughts? You look so serious right now,” he said, walking at her side.
“Just wondering if there is someone special out there for everyone or do some people miss out.”
“I think there’s more than one someone actually. There’s likely to be a different someone depending on our stage of life and what we are looking for. Not all marriages last, and people move on. Not everyone is blessed with longevity, and those that lose a partner often find someone new to love. I think it’s just a different love.” That made her feel better. “I’d like to experience love once. In some way.”
“You mentioned your brother – don’t you love him?”
“I really love him,” she said in surprise. “He attended a workshop with Jenna a couple of months ago and did phenomenally well out of it. He found someone special during the course. She had as many problems as he did, but they are a perfect match.”
“Nice. You don’t see that often.” His voice sounded doubtful.
“Yeah, you’d have to know my brother to understand how difficult this was for him.” She shook her head. “Trusting Robin to the extent he does – it’s huge.”
“Trusting anyone is huge.”
They walked in silence.
“Are you going to tell my why you are avoiding that man?”
Conflicted, she shook her head. “It’s not an easy thing.”
“Really.” He snorted. “What in all of this is easy?” He motioned to the city melding around them. “You left the hotel and came out in spite of him. That wasn’t easy and you managed anyway.”
She shrugged. “It was almost worse sitting there and waiting for him to come back. I saw him in the lobby earlier and hoped I’d been wrong. In all these years, I hadn’t seen him, so why now?”
“If you believe that whole line about everything happens for a reason…”
“Meaning I’m here at the workshop looking to move ahead and he shows up, so take that as a sign?” She turned to give him a hooded glance. “I had considered that. Then dismissed it.”
There was his crooked grin again.
“Too bad life isn’t quite so easy to dismiss.”
There wasn’t an answer to give so she stayed quiet, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“He’s obviously a huge issue for you,” Weaver added.
“Scary huge.”
“So maybe see if you can get past it. It seems to me that this week is all about dealing with crap. This crap is what showed up – so deal with it. Maybe look at it as a gift.”
“It’s too big.”
“How big?” he said quietly. “Big enough it impacts your ability to trust. Big enough to impact your a
bility to move on. Big enough to stop you,” he paused for effect, “from moving on?”
He studied her intently. “Because if it is, this is so what you need to deal with right now. Forget the rest of the workshop lessons or what you are trying to make happen this week. This is a golden opportunity.”
The thought made her shudder. No way could she handle that one. Not here, not right now. She needed someone to help her through this, not someone to toss her into the river and hope she could swim. As he gently grabbed her elbow and nudged her forward, she realized she’d come to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk. And was barely breathing. She gulped for air. And then again. Focusing on her breath and almost subconsciously on his touch, she pushed the panic deep inside.
Before she knew it, she was sitting down on a park bench, Weaver hovering at her side.
“Honestly, Paris, if it’s this big…you need to deal with it. It’s crippling you.”
Tears welled up, and one big fat tear rolled down her cheek. “I know. But it’s so big. Such a huge scary thing. I’m always afraid because of him. Always…”
“Then maybe that’s what you need to do – face him. Tell him how he has crippled you. Tell him you need him to go away so you can get on with your life.”
Her hair flew violently around her head as she shook her head like a dog shaking off water. “You don’t understand. This is life-changing. I’ll lose my job. My life as I know it will cease to exist.”
*
“What?” Weaver sat down beside the distraught woman. “How is that possible?”
“I can’t tell you,” she cried. “No one can ever know.”
“No one?” He was confused and getting seriously worried. This was such a big fear in her life. He could see it was what she needed to deal with. That the opportunity for her was here and now with both Jenna and himself to help her through it. That was something he could do.
“My brother. Sean.” She grabbed her cell phone and in between wiping her eyes and sobbing out loud, she sent her brother a text. He didn’t want to pry but desperately wanted to know what she was saying. All he could see without obviously reading over her shoulder was Constable Delaney.
After hitting send, she slumped back as if that much effort had been too much. Now, looking around, the light lowering on the streets, the wind picking up, he was sorry they hadn’t ordered room service. She’d been strong enough to leave but at the same time, they still didn’t have food and she looked to be at the end of her rope.
Her cell phone beeped. She swiped across her phone, read the message, and cried out, “Talk to him. Sean, how can you say that?”
Weaver was starting to like the guy already. “It’s what you need to do.”
“I can’t.” Cold and dark, her tone of voice said this was a no brainer. She wasn’t going there – ever.
She stood up. “I need food, then I need sleep.”
And she started walking.
Weaver was lost and trying to catch up as she shifted from the weeping ineffectual woman to this coldly in-control female.
What the hell just happened? And who was the real Paris?
Chapter 13
The burning questions hung in the cool air around them. Didn’t matter. She had no plans to answer them. There were things she could do and things she couldn’t do. Talking to Delaney was on the second list. The other constable, whatever his name had been, might be a different story. He’d helped Sean in a way she’d never have been able to reach him. And that had made such a difference to her brother. Sean credited the man with saving him from a deep dark slide into the shadows of his soul and staying there.
But he hadn’t had the same effect on her. Watching from the sidelines, covered in blankets but apart from the going-ons, she’d been in shock. And so much of what happened back then was a dim painful memory. To try and look at it closer was asking for a whole lot of pain. Who wanted to scrape their insides out again after it had finally healed? Not her.
Then again, that stupid little voice in her head said, What if it never healed?
It had to have healed. It had been over a decade. Surely that was long enough. But that same voice smiled and said, If it was, you’d have no trouble taking a closer look. Because you won’t even contemplate such an action, you know it hasn’t. And won’t if you can’t deal with this stuff.
“I can’t,” she snapped.
“What?” Weaver asked by her side.
She flushed then groaned. “Sorry, I was talking to myself.”
“Arguing from the sounds of it,” he said, his voice light and humorous. “Every time I do that, I lose.”
Again she felt his light touch on the small of her back, and her heartbeat quickened. “I can’t lose this one,” she said resolutely. “It’s not possible.”
And that was all she was going to say on the topic. The pizza place was one storefront down from them. She hurried inside to get in out of the cold – in more ways than one.
Once back in her hotel room, she answered Sean’s text. Her response was clear and simple. “No.”
Of all people, he should understand. He’d watched her go to pieces at the time. In a different way than he had. In a different way since, but they’d both picked up the remnants of their life and carried on. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d done it and she was always comforted by that fact. What she’d gone through afterwards had been so different than what Sean had gone through. That’s where the understanding and mutual experiences diverted.
Her brother knew in theory what she’d been put through, but he hadn’t been allowed to be by her side and she’d never been able to tell him. The police had questioned her for hours at the time. The process had damn near killed her. It took months for her to sleep again, afraid the cops were going to come any minute to haul her away. Afraid ever since that they’d made a mistake and someone was going to pick up that old file and remember what she’d done.
Her day of reckoning would come.
She was hell bent on making sure she wasn’t the one who had to serve it.
And that meant avoiding all cops, especially the one she’d spoken to back then.
*
Back in his room, Weaver hesitated as to whether he should say something to Jenna about the cop being at the hotel and Paris’s response. Was it tattling? Or was it in her best interests? He tried to think of it from the therapist’s point of view in that he was there to help her heal. If Providence dropped a juicy opportunity like that into his patient’s life, wouldn’t he want to know?
Wouldn’t he need to know? Her behavior was going to be off now – there’s no way it couldn’t be. And if Jenna didn’t know what was going on, she couldn’t help Paris deal with it.
The right thing to do was call her.
He opened his cell phone. “I need to meet you. Maybe the coffee shop if it isn’t too late.”
“Be there in five,” she said cheerfully.
That was one thing about her that always blew him away. Not once had he met her in a bad mood. Always wide-awake and cheerful, she was ready to take on whatever the world tossed at her.
He left the hotel room and with a final glance at Paris’s closed door, walked down to the coffee shop.
Chapter 14
Paris answered her phone. “Hi, Sean.”
Silence.
“Are you okay?”
She burst into tears. In between her sobs, she managed to get out, “I’m…” sniffle… “fine.”
His voice threaded with gentle loving humor, he said, “You don’t sound it.”
“Why is he here?” she cried. “Why now?”
“I don’t know. Is he there alone?”
“No,” she said, her voice rising in alarm, “The hotel is full of cops. Some kind of seminar. Talk about horrible timing.”
“And maybe not,” he said in that calm way of his. “You don’t need to talk to him, but maybe by the end of the week, you could get to the point of not bolting every time you see a policema
n.”
Her mood lightened. “Well, so far it hasn’t worked. I’ve bolted twice. Once inside to get away and once outside to get further away.” She laughed.
“Of course you did.” He chuckled. “And you might still do that for a while, but not all cops are bad. Remember that.”
“I know he isn’t bad. But not all are compassionate and caring. You hit the jackpot there. I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t, and I’ve always been so angry about that. I should have been there for you.”
“No,” she interrupted him. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s the system. We were victims first, and the system continued to make us victims.”
“You more than I. We had a decent foster family for that last while, but they never quite knew how to handle you.”
“Without you, I wouldn’t have ended up mostly normal.” She sighed. “The foster family was good to me. They were a rock when I was the storm. How they put up with me, I don’t know.”
“Well, it helped a lot that he was a psychologist.” Sean’s voice deepened. “Did you consider calling him?”
“No, I haven’t dumped my problems on him in a long time.” In truth, she never had. He’d been great at coaxing her back to the real world, but she’d been a lot of work. He had taken on several other kids after she’d moved out, although she didn’t think any were as badly damaged as she’d been.
“Maybe you should let Jenna know.”
Silence.
“I don’t want to open it up,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And she’s going to poke and pry and insist that the blood flow to cleanse the wound.”
“So? You know it has to happen.”
“So,” she countered, using his own word. “Doesn’t mean it has to happen here and now. Today or this week. It’s not what I came for.”
“Yes, it is.” Again that calm manner and voice that had held him in good stead. “You went there to heal. We don’t always get to choose what is going to heal.”
