by Robin Janney
“Just the same, it’s something to think about. When it comes to the time, my advice, as your therapist and as a husband is: remember gentleness. Keep it soft, slow. Especially with all the other emotional issues you two have going on. There’s a time for wild passionate sex, but now’s not one of them.”
Craig nodded. “I can do that.”
“Now, tell me something,” Kevin leaned back in his seat. “Has she already let you know that she’s ready?”
“Last night,” admitted Craig. He’d been surprised to find her asleep across the doorway of his office after his phone conversation with his manager back at the Country Cupboard. The sight of her outfit from their wedding night had scared him a little, and as he gave a brief rundown of the moment, he couldn’t explain why even to his doctor. “I wasn’t ready.”
“Why is that?”
“Because of everything I just told you, and I didn’t want it to just be physical. Our emotional intimacy has been somewhat lacking lately.”
“Yes, that does sound like you. You’ve always craved the emotional connection. No doubt because of the mother who betrayed the one she had with you, more than once.” Kevin tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. “Did you tell Angela any of this?”
“The last part, about our missing friendship and intimacy. I didn’t go into all my fears. It’s still returning, the intimacy I mean. I plan on fixing it tomorrow.”
“Which part?” Kevin asked with a smile.
Craig smiled back. “All of it.”
“Good, good.” Kevin hesitated. “Has she shared much of what happened in the woods with Nikki?”
Craig shook his head. “No. And I’m not going to press. She’ll share in her own time, hopefully once the barrier between us breaks down more.”
Kevin nodded, but didn’t look especially pleased. “You should talk to your father some time. Get a complete rundown of the charges against your former stepmother. We have time left, so is there anything else you want to talk about?”
“Honestly, all I want to do is burn that sketch and then go check on my wife.”
“I don’t blame you. Go ahead, we’ll talk later in the week.”
Shutting the laptop down, Craig found the ball of paper he had thrown earlier. He unraveled this sketch, wanting to watch the image of the Beast burn and did just that, watching until the final ember had died.
After doing his nightly check of the house and turning off lights in each room, Craig climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Angela was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep on her stomach with her laptop open in front of her. He smiled at the familiar sight, chuckling when Princess popped her head up from the other side of Angela where she had been curled against his wife’s body. She huffed at him, then hopped off the bed.
Picking up his wife’s laptop, Craig checked to see if his wife had been chatting with her sister Cassie again, but the window wasn’t open. Flipping the lid shut, he placed the laptop on her little desk, plugging it into its charger. Then came the fun part of moving his wife’s limp body around in the bed, taking care not to wake her. Turning the bedside lamp off, he stripped down to his boxers and crawled in next to her. And then Angela moved in her sleep, snuggling against him as though cold, just like she always did.
Sleep evaded him, his heart grieving for all he’d done to hurt this woman in his arms, for all his decisions that had allowed others to do harm to her, for all that could still happen to her. So instead of even trying to sleep, Craig held his sleeping wife close, praying for her for the first time since his return.
57
I t had been a frustrating session. Angela Moore had been bubbly today, and full of hope. Pat had urged caution; a vague promise and burned sketches didn’t mean the woman’s marital issues were solved. How could they when Angela herself showed no signs of changing her behavior? No doubt, if the two resumed a sexual relationship, the doctor would be forced to hear about it at their next weekly appointment.
This would be much easier if the two remained at odds. It would have also been easier had her patient not involved another doctor. Granted, Dr. Rockwell wasn’t Angela’s doctor per se and was little more than a sympathetic ear for the hurting woman. But it was one more person she had to color the truth with. Should either man compare emails, the deception would be over and she’d most likely be fired.
As she made notations in Angela’s file, Pat sighed. From a woman’s perspective she understood why her patient had turned to a male doctor. And since the doctor in question was also her husband’s best friend, Pat was surprised Angela hadn’t contacted him sooner than she had. But as a doctor, Pat couldn’t help but feel as though she’d failed Angela.
She should have been enough. Even the dream lover she had acquired, said she was enough to help Angela. So far, everything the woman was going through was according to his plan. The part of her that honestly cared about her patient, and profession, no longer existed and she no longer cared about his elusive goals. He never shared his plans with her, just what he needed her to do. And she did them willingly, blinded as she was by his nocturnal rewards.
Checking the time, Pat decided there was enough time before her next appointment to send Dr. Rockwell an email. It was part report, part subterfuge, and part venting.
I don’t know how much good I am doing, Doctor Rockwell. Angela Moore continues to ignore the most recent trauma in her life. I could help her to see how none of it is her fault, but she cannot even admit anything happened. She can only admit to being held at gunpoint and marched through the woods. Anything concerning the sexual assault in Tyler’s Grove back in June or the more recent rape by Nikki Flynn is ignored, sometimes violently denied. In rare moments, she shows her vulnerability in this area, questioning her sex appeal to her husband, but when I try to expound on it all she will say is how Katie was a prettier woman – “even if her breasts were fake”. I cannot always make sense of her ramblings. I would like to try her on stronger drugs, but she refuses to take the script with her. Mr. Moore does not return my phone calls or my emails on the matter. Can you please ask him to call me?
It galled her to ask a man she knew only as a voice on the phone to relay a message to his patient, but she didn’t know what else to do.
It was two patients later before Pat checked her email again. Anything to avoid having to call the other doctor. Two were interoffice memos, nothing important. And Dr. Rockwell had replied to her, apparently shortly after she’d sent hers. She opened it, her eye ever on the clock and cursed herself for her blunder.
He replied with: What sexual assault in Tyler’s Grove?
How could she have revealed that? That hadn’t been part of the plan and she prayed it wasn’t enough to anger her dream lover. His anger was something to avoid at all costs, no matter how sweet the making up. What could Pat tell the other doctor? She could admit to the slip of confidentiality, or she could tell the man what she knew.
No, she couldn’t do that. Not everything.
Forgive my blunder, Doctor Rockwell. I had not realized Angela hadn’t shared that with you. It was a very mild assault, but it was enough to shake her. A woman thought Angela would be open to some same sex experimentation and was physical in her approach. I do not believe she’s shared those details with Craig either. Between that event and the one with Nikki, Angela has been presenting several classic symptoms. Denial being first and foremost.
Hoping it would be enough to satisfy the other doctor, Pat sent the email and shut her computer down. She’d have to cancel two more appointments, but she’d had enough for the day.
58
R ick dropped Angela off at the front of the main house. She wasn’t sure why her husband had their foreman drive her into the city for her appointment with Pat instead of Nan, but she hadn’t argued. Something told her it was Craig’s way of taking care of her, and that it was something he needed to do. Something had changed between the two of them yesterday, and she felt renewed hope no matter what Pat had to say.
“Thanks, Rick,” Angela said as she slid out of the large pickup truck that belonged to him.
“No problem, Mrs. Moore. Anytime. Enjoy your night.”
“I’ll try.” She shut the door and walked up the steps of the porch and then into her home. It had been a frustrating session. Pat had been nervous about something and hadn’t really been interested in probing too deep about things, which was a pleasant change. ‘Just give things time, Angela. Things don’t heal overnight. Don’t expect too much when you go home.’
God, she was getting tired of that line about time, no matter how much truth there was to it. She was also growing tired of being nagged about subjects she didn’t want to talk about in the level of detail her doctor seemed to want. There were other things she felt were more important which she wanted to discuss, but Pat would argue, and nothing would get discussed except how the doctor continued to disbelieve she was taking her medicine.
But hadn’t things changed between her and Craig in just a few minutes yesterday?
She was surprised when Nan appeared almost before the front door was shut.
“Miss Angela.” Her housekeeper smiled pleasantly as she came to a stop near the large bureau in the entryway. Princess, who had followed Nan, passed the other woman and rubbed against Angela’s legs. “How was your appointment?”
Angela shrugged as she set her purse on the bureau as usual and hung her light sweater up on one of the coat rack hooks. She hadn’t even needed it today. “Not one of my best, I’m afraid. Not quite as bad as the one you witnessed the tail end of.” She tugged at her shirt’s waistband as she finished.
Her housekeeper let a sigh escape and her eyebrows furrowed before she was able to school it to her normal calm expression. “I do wish you’d consider changing doctors.”
“Not right now, Nan,” Angela managed a weak smile as she took her shoes off. She cast a look around the quiet house as Princess sniffed at the sneakers just placed in their spot. “So, where’s my husband hidden himself?”
Nan’s smile returned. “Mr. Moore is busy right now, attending to things on the back veranda. But he asks for you to go upstairs, freshen up and put on something nice for a date on the veranda.”
“Really?” Why did that jumpstart her nerves? Were things going to return to normal? Or as close as they could get. Although, dates in the veranda weren’t exactly normal. “D-do I have time for a shower?”
“Yes, Miss Angela. I don’t plan on serving the first course until 6, so you have plenty of time.”
“Okay. Okay, good!” Angela took off upstairs without another thought to the housekeeper, Princess hot on her heels. She’d suspected her husband was up to something from his comments to her in his office last night; she’d tried not to hope too much, but it was hard not to. After showering and primping to her heart’s content, she looked in her closet.
She didn’t have a clue what he had up his sleeve, so she wasn’t sure what to wear. It was sure to be a nice evening out as the afternoon had been gorgeous, so she ended up choosing a thin emerald-green dress with a flouncy skirt ending just above her knees, and a halter top with an open back. He liked her in green, or blue, though she’d never understood why.
Looking in her jewelry box, Angela wondered what to wear with her dress. She pulled out the silver and gold daisy pendant and matching earrings Craig had given her for her first birthday after their marriage. Her hands faltered on the bracelet he said had been his first gift to her, their first Christmas as a couple and the memory pushed itself forward:
Angela was back at her parents’ home, walking into the laundry room of the farmhouse on a wintry day. It had been a tiring Christmas, but good. Holiday gatherings at the farm always set her on edge. So many people she knew she wasn’t related to. Did they know too? Could they guess?
She was surprised, but grateful when her mother told her she could take Craig into the laundry room for some privacy. It seemed to go against everything her mother had tried to drill into her, but really…the house was crawling with people and so it was unlikely they could get into a compromising situation. Especially in the laundry room! Not very romantic, since it looked out at the family cemetery on the other side of the pond, but at least it was private.
“This is better.” Sitting on the washing machine, the coolness of this outer room was welcome. The inner house always got so hot from the oven and the wood furnace.
“Much,” Craig said. Was he her boyfriend? She thought he was, he must be if he’d been brave enough to tell Pastor Mark they were in a relationship with each other. He leaned against the dryer next to her, his fingers toying with the fabric of her skirt. It was close enough to cause her heart to skip a few beats. He was almost touching her. “As much as I like your family, they can be a bit overwhelming sometimes.”
“I can understand that.” Looking out the window at the cemetery in the distance, sadness began to leak into her day. Her older brother had loved Christmas and holiday gatherings, but then…they were all his family. She was an interloper of some kind. She’d like the holiday more if she belonged here. “There’s a lot of us. It’s part of the reason why I moved into town.”
She felt him look up at her. She wanted to look down at him, but what would he see in her eyes if she met them now? They had too many secrets from each other, but how could she share things she wasn’t even supposed to know herself? From the corner of her eye, she saw him follow her gaze, then looked at her again.
“What’s the other part?” Craig asked, his voice concerned.
She gave a little shrug. It was so complex, even to her. She would have been safer from Derek here, but pretending to belong in this family was growing harder and harder, no matter how much she loved them. “Some memories were getting too strong.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, not today.” She looked down at him with a smile she didn’t really feel. “It’s Christmas and I don’t want to spoil it. It’s been such a good day. Some other time.”
“Fair enough.” His brown eyes took on a thoughtful note, and she could almost see him coming to a decision about something. He pushed off from the dryer and pulled something out of his pocket. “Here, I have something for you.”
“You do?” Oh no…oh no…I left his gift at home.
“It is Christmas.” It was a little box, and he was trying to work out the dents in it. His smile was teasing as he moved to stand in front of her. “Or so I was just told.” His eyes, when they met hers again were hesitant but determined. “Here. Uhm, Merry Christmas.”
She reached out for the gold rectangular box, but hesitated. “I…I wasn’t sure if we were exchanging gifts. I left the gift I have for you at home.”
“You can give it to me when I take you home.” There was no hesitation in his answer, but she saw frustration flash through his eyes and she felt guilty for having caused it.
“Alright.” She took the box and untied the silver ribbon wrapped around it. She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking a little. It looked like it might be a jewelry box, and that was a boyfriend gift. Pulling the lid off, she couldn’t believe her eyes. “Oh Craig. Oh, oh my…” She knew she sounded like an idiot, but she couldn’t help it. It was so pretty! She brought the silver and gold toned X’s and O’s bracelet from the box for closer inspection. She didn’t know if the stones in the X’s were real or not, didn’t care. She just liked the way they sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“Here.”
She was surprised when he took the bracelet from her. She looked at him again, but he wasn’t looking up at her as he undid the clasp.
“Give me your wrist,” he’d said in that slightly commanding tone of his.
Was he going to put it on her? Was he going to touch her? Nervously, she held her right wrist out to him.
Were his hands trembling as he circled her wrist with the bracelet? He fumbled just a little with the clasp, but when he let it rest on her wrist…his f
ingers trailed over her skin with a light but deliberate touch. Her heart caught when he looked back up at her, with what looked like love shining in his eyes.
“Now,” he said with confidence, “it’s beautiful.”
But what was shining in his eyes was, ‘you’re beautiful’. She couldn’t stop herself from sliding off the machine she was on and throwing her arms around him. He was stiff at first, but it didn’t last long at all and then his arms were around her. His breathing had picked up like hers did right before a panic attack and she pulled back horrified at what she’d done.
“Oh God, I’m sorry Craig,” she stammered, even though the look in his eyes was far from looking panicked. “I wasn’t thinking.” She began to pull away, but his arms around her didn’t loosen.
“It’s alright,” he said, his voice soft. There was something else in his voice she didn’t understand.
“It is?” She relaxed in his arms, hands against his chest. Was he thinking of kissing her? Was that desire she heard in his voice? He sounded so different from Derek…
“Yes.” Again, said softly. He raised a hand to her face, caressed her cheek. He was always so gentle when he touched her, like he was afraid she might disappear.
“Are…are you going to kiss me?” God, what a stupid thing to say! What if it scared him away?
But his lips almost smiled when he said, “Maybe.”
Please, her heart begged him. Please kiss me. He was…he was leaning down, his eyes almost but not quite closing as if he wanted to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t bring herself to completely shut her eyes either.
His lips had just grazed hers when she heard her grandmother’s voice behind them. “And what do we have here?”
There was accusation in her tone, and Angela stepped back almost as quickly as Craig had. Her heart was pounding in fear and anger…
It was pounding even now as the memory faded.
Princess was nudging her, and Angela realized she’d sat down on the bedroom floor at some point. Her breathing was heavy from the strength of the memory, the anxiety and the rage it had ended on continued to fill her.
