Jenny rummaged in the purse and removed a plastic pill bottle. She dropped one of the large white capsules onto her palm, then tossed it into her mouth and took a drink. The sedative the psychiatrist had prescribed should sink her into oblivion for a few hours. She burrowed into the pillow.
It was almost too much of an effort to breathe.
A nightmare jerked her from sleep. In the distorted dream, Matt was not in the car with her and Cooper. He stared down at her, bearing a maniacal smile and steering the eighteen-wheeler directly toward her minivan. She sat up, gasping and bathed in perspiration. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkened room. Light creased the darkness where the door stood partially opened.
Jenny swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat, sweeping her hair from her face. From the living room, she heard Ashley’s voice. She stumbled to the bathroom. In the mirror, her face looked pale and dark circles shadowed her eyes.
When she entered the living room, Ashley pulled the cell phone away from her mouth and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Okay. Just need a drink.” She held up the empty glass and crossed the room to the kitchen.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Ashley said into the phone. “You’re welcome. It was nice to talk with you.”
Jenny filled a glass from the tap and chugged the tepid water.
“Hey, you must be starving. You slept through dinner.” Ashley opened the refrigerator. “I ordered sandwiches and salads from the deli down the street.”
“Not hungry, but thanks.”
“Do you want to talk?”
She shook her head. “I’m going back to bed.” She refilled the water glass. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”
“Jen, wait.”
She turned and faced her friend.
“I’m worried about you. What happened today was a shock.”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t it help if you talked about it? If you don’t want to talk to me, I can call Dr. Sprowls.”
She stared at Ashley. “I remembered that my husband tried to kill me and succeeded in killing himself and our son. I don’t think Dr. Sprowls has a pill for that.”
Ashley opened her mouth, but closed it without speaking.
Jenny glanced down, then back at Ashley. “I know you’re trying to be helpful. There’s just nothing you can do.” She shuffled down the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind her. Curled around one of the pillows, she stared into the darkness until sleep reclaimed her.
Chapter Fifteen
Two days passed. Jenny wandered the apartment, crawling beneath the comforter in bed, or wrapping herself in the afghan and slipping into deep sleep on the sofa. She ignored two calls from Patrick, and put off Ashley’s prodding to call her psychiatrist. But she would have to call soon, if she wanted a refill on the prescription.
Ashley came in from work and dropped into the chair opposite the sofa where Jenny lay. “Okay, so here’s the deal. You are going to take a shower. Then you are going to sit down at the table with me and eat something. I’ve already made an appointment for you with Dr. Sprowls for tomorrow morning.”
Jenny glared at her.
“Jen, I’m not going to sit by and watch you sink into this depression any further.”
When Jenny opened her mouth to respond, a wail emerged. She coiled into a fetal position, her body shuddering.
Ashley hurried to sit on the edge of the sofa, placing a comforting hand on Jenny’s back. “Oh, sweetie.”
“I c-can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t…can’t—”
“Okay. Shhhh. You don’t have to do anything.” Ashley pulled tissues from the box on the coffee table and pressed them into Jenny’s hand.
Jenny blew her nose and bunched the tissues in her fist. She stared up at Ashley. “I’m scared. I feel the way I did that day in the bay, like I’m drowning. But, this time, I don’t want to fight it.”
“Will you see Dr. Sprowls tomorrow?”
Jenny nodded.
Ashley’s cell phone rang.
“You should answer that.” Jenny pulled herself upright. “I’ll take a shower—if only for your sake.”
“Good.” Ashley flipped her phone open. “Hello.”
****
Jenny padded to the kitchen, hair still damp. “Smells good.”
“Scrambled eggs. I’m afraid I burned the toast.”
“You cooked?”
“I’m not totally helpless. Well, except with toast.” Ashley wiped her hands on a towel and motioned toward the table. “Sit. There’s something I have to tell you.”
Jenny slowly settled onto one of the oak chairs.
“I…uh…” Ashley began, but hesitated. “I did something you may not be too happy about.”
“What?”
“I…um… I called Patrick.”
“You did what? Jesus, Ashley. What did you do that for?”
“I thought maybe he could help. He was very concerned.”
Jenny rose and paced the narrow kitchen. “Patrick has his own problems right now. If I’d wanted him to know mine, I’d have called him myself.”
“No, you wouldn’t. And…there’s more.”
Jenny stopped moving and stared at her.
“He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”
“He’s coming to Boston?”
Ashley grabbed her hand. “Jen, this guy really cares about you. When I told him what happened, he wanted to drive down here right away. I asked him to wait a day or two. But… Well, frankly, you’re not getting any better, and I don’t know what to do. I didn’t know who else to call.”
Jenny pulled her hand away. “You should have asked me first. You had no right to assume… If my being here is such a worry for you, I’ll leave.” She stomped to her room and slammed the door. But when she caught sight of herself in the mirror over the dresser, she knew Ashley was right.
A gentle tap sounded on the door. “Jen?”
Jenny drew in a deep breath and exhaled before opening the door. She and Ashley spoke at the same time, “I’m sorry.”
Jenny shook her head. “You were right to call for backup. Hell, I even scared myself when I looked into the mirror.”
Ashley drew her into a hug. “You’re my best friend. The sister I never had.”
Furrowing her eyebrows, Jenny said, “You have a sister.”
“Not like you. You’ve met her. She’s boring as hell.”
Jenny smiled through her tears. “I’m glad I bring some excitement to your life.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know about you, but I could handle a little ‘boring’ right now. Feel free to take the excitement down a notch. Should I call Patrick and tell him not to come?”
“Please. His being here will only complicate things more. I don’t want to talk with him right now. Things are kind of weird between Patrick and me. We’re trying to be friends, but with our history…”
“Friends? Jen, you and I are friends. Maybe Patrick is offering you what you really need right now. If you were editing a romance novel, would you let the writer get away with making the hero and heroine friends?”
“Again, this isn’t a romance novel. It’s my life,” Jenny argued.
“Then live it. Let Patrick be here for you.”
Jenny exhaled heavily. “He was always there to look after me growing up. But I don’t want to fall back into a relationship based on some need to be taken care of. I’m not that person anymore.”
“Maybe not. But you need a few people in your corner, and I got the sense that’s exactly where Patrick wants to be.”
“Just tell him I’ll call him tomorrow evening.”
“Okay. I’ll call after dinner. Come on, let’s eat.”
Jenny chased eggs around the plate with her fork. “All this time, I’ve blamed myself for the accident. But now…”
“Now maybe you can believe what I’ve been telling you. The accident was not your fault. I know it doe
sn’t change everything, but it changes that one thing.”
Jenny’s eyes met Ashley’s. “What do I do now?”
“You live your life.”
****
Dr. Margaret Sprowls sat across from Jenny. “Your friend is very concerned about you. Want to tell me what’s been going on?”
“There are the parts you already know—horrific accident, deaths of husband and son, all for which I’ve blamed myself. Let’s not leave out my ancient history, where I wrecked my future with Patrick Doyle. I’ve discovered my husband was dying and didn’t tell me. And, now…” She leveled her eyes on those of the psychiatrist. “I find out my husband attempted to kill all three of us.”
Unblinking, the doctor maintained their locked gaze and said nothing.
“Matt finally won. But I can’t blame him, entirely. We both played the game for nine years.”
“The game?”
“Let’s pretend. You know, the game we all play as children—playing house. Let’s pretend we’re in a happy marriage, or that we could be one day. Let’s pretend we can make it work, for the sake of our son. Let’s pretend his parents don’t hate me. Well, you can see where this is going.” She felt charged, fueled by an anger she had not let herself embrace.
“Where is it going, Jenny?”
“My son is dead because I decided it was more important to make a bad marriage work than to get out and make a real life for him. For myself. I should have left Matt years ago. Matt would not have taken the wheel from me if we hadn’t been arguing. He would have told me about his medical condition if I hadn’t brought up a divorce.”
“You’re determined to find a way to blame yourself, aren’t you?”
Jenny stared down at her hands, fingers woven together in her lap. She thought of Patrick’s comment to her. “I used to be a fighter.” She looked up. “You don’t look shocked to hear that.”
“Should I be?”
“Well, you didn’t know me then.”
“When did you stop fighting?”
“When I resigned myself to the life I’d chosen with Matt.”
“It must have taken a lot of courage to make that decision, to work at a marriage that wasn’t fulfilling.”
“I did it for Cooper.” Jenny bit her lip. “But thank you.”
“For…?”
“Trying to make me feel better.”
“What would help you to feel better?”
Jenny laughed. “Besides the pills? Turning back the hands of time, making other choices.”
Dr. Sprowls shifted and removed her glasses. “Your friend, Ashley, says she’s been concerned about your level of depression.”
“Is that all she said?”
“Is there more?”
Jenny closed her eyes and let her head drop back against the cushioned chair. A tear slid down her cheek. She let it go.
“Jenny?”
She opened her eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” she murmured.
The doctor leaned forward. “About what?”
“Everything. It’s too much. I just don’t know what to do. I almost died a few weeks ago. Ashley didn’t tell you about that, I guess. I nearly drowned, but I fought.” She knit her eyebrows together. “I fought to live. For weeks I wanted to die. At least, I didn’t want to live without my son. But, that day, I fought for my life.”
Dr. Sprowls nodded. “What keeps you fighting?”
“I thought it was my penance—to live with the guilt. Now I don’t have the guilt. Matt even took that away from me.”
“How are you feeling right now?”
Jenny shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t believe what Matt did, though I think I understand why he did it. He was sick. He wasn’t thinking straight. I know he would never have hurt Cooper intentionally.”
“How does that change things for you?”
She considered the question. “I have no one to blame.”
“Jenny, accidents happen. Matt acted in anger, causing the accident. In a way, he was responsible. But, more importantly, you weren’t.”
“My in-laws are trying to prove I was. They’ll never believe that Matt…” She paused. “I guess it doesn’t matter what they believe.”
“We’ve talked before about self-blame and guilt. Have you thought of how you’ll let that go, forgive yourself?”
“I’m gonna need a little time on that one.”
“Okay. Can we meet again day after tomorrow?”
“I’m not staying in town very long.”
Dr. Sprowls nodded, unblinking. “Will you still be here day after tomorrow?”
“Probably.”
“Good. Then we can meet.” The psychiatrist looked over the frame of her glasses. “Jenny, your friend is worried about you. You’ve had thoughts about suicide.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You told me you fought to stay alive. Are you going to tell me you didn’t have a moment of thinking not to?”
A flush warmed Jenny’s face.
“You’ve been through a horrible loss. You’re doing relatively well, all things considered. But you’re not out of the woods. I’d like to ask you to stay in Boston for a couple of weeks, come in and work this through. You’re ready to do that now.”
She shook her head. “No, I can’t stay that long.”
“Why not?”
“I—”
“You’re ready to deal with all of this. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t push you. It’s time.” Dr. Sprowls stood and moved behind her desk and flipped open her appointment book. “I’ll see you day after tomorrow at—” She glanced at the appointment book. “—two o’clock. And I want you to think about a few more visits before you go back to Maine.”
“Thank you for making time to see me today.” Jenny gathered up her coat and purse.
“You’re very fortunate to have people who care so much about you, Jenny. Don’t feel you have to shoulder this alone. Let them in.”
Before heading home, Jenny sat in the car for a minute. She opened her cell phone and stared at the key pad. She had put off calling Patrick, and she had ignored two of his calls, deleting the messages without even listening. He had not been totally receptive to Ashley’s return call telling him not to come to Boston, but had agreed to wait until he heard from Jenny.
She scrolled the contacts list and found his number.
“Hello,” he answered on the second ring.
The sound of his voice gave her a feeling of calm. “Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t call back sooner. I’ve been busy.”
“How are you? Your friends are worried, me included.”
“I know.” She drew in a quick, ragged breath. “I just wanted you to know I’m okay. I guess I kind of hit bottom the other day, but I’m better now. Just left my shrink.”
“I was about ready to drive down there, despite Ashley’s insistence not to.”
She let her head drop back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “I appreciate your concern, but… Patrick, I don’t know how to do this.”
“How to do what?”
“Be friends again. Just friends. There’s so much between us. It’s confusing.”
Silence.
“Patrick?”
“I’m here. I’m trying to figure out if you want to be friends, but don’t know how to get back there, or if…if you want to be free of the past.”
Tears stung her eyes. “No. No, I… God, why does this have to be so hard? I care about you. I always will. But I don’t know if we can go back and ignore so much of what we had between us—good and bad.”
“We can try, Jen. If you want to, we can try.”
With his words and the tender tone of his voice, the memory of being in his arms, being loved—cherished—it all flooded over her like a tidal wave. She was crying now. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you, too. When are you coming home?”
“I’m not sure. My psych
iatrist wants me to stay for a few weeks. My attorney set up a meeting with the Barnes’s.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“There are some things they need to know. I should be home on Sunday evening.”
“But your doctor…”
“I’m okay. I just need to come home.”
“Call when you’re close. I’ll meet you at your place.”
She swallowed, torn with doubt about what was right, what was best, and what she wanted.
“Jen? Is that okay?”
“Yes. I’ll call you then.”
Chapter Sixteen
The following afternoon, Jenny stood alone in the elevator on her way to Milton Sachs’ office. She clutched the envelope holding Matt’s revised Will and the medical report of his condition. She trembled at the thought of facing Matt’s parents with this news.
The silver doors whooshed open, and she stepped out into the hallway. Susan Barnes looked up when Jenny entered the waiting room. Susan’s expression was tight, lips pressed together. Grief had sharpened the angles of her face. She blinked a few times as if she were holding back tears.
Jenny hesitated, nodded, and then sat on the opposite side of the room.
The receptionist smiled at her. “Mr. Sachs will be with you in a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” Perspiration spotted the envelope in her hands, and Jenny smoothed it in her lap. She glanced at her former in-laws. Tension charged the air in the room. Susan stared at her own hands. William Barnes never looked up from the magazine he filtered through. The sweet aroma of a mixed floral bouquet on the corner of the receptionist’s desk fueled her nausea and Jenny swallowed hard.
A door opened and Milton Sachs spoke to his receptionist and approached Jenny. “Jenny, let’s go into my office.”
William and Susan stood also. Milton turned to them. “I need to speak with my client in private first. It will only be a few minutes. If you need anything, just ask Marie.” He nodded to the receptionist.
Jenny followed her attorney into his office.
“I’m sorry. I had scheduled the Barnes’ to arrive later, but they showed up early. How are you holding up?” Milton asked.
Jenny sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Okay. I’m sorry about the deposition. It was such a shock to realize that Matt deliberately tried to kill us.”
Act of Contrition Page 10
