by Kim Mckade
Silently she spooned hot chocolate mix into her mug. Toby shifted behind her, the rustle of his clothes loud in the silent room.
Even Dutch had heard. She wanted to ask how far away they’d been parked, but she didn’t want to talk to Toby. What she wanted to do was kick him out, but she knew he wouldn’t leave without a fight. He considered himself to be the brave knight, ready to slay dragons for her. She was just too drained to make him see she didn’t need him to comfort and take care of her.
The thought flitted across her mind that it felt good to have someone else there. That when she did awake, she was not alone. She banished the thought along with the memories of the nightmare.
The teakettle shrieked through the heavy silence, and Corinne poured steaming water into her mug. Toby silently removed a mug from the cabinet. Her back to him, she edged over to the bar between the kitchen and dining room and stirred her chocolate. She heard him remove a spoon from the drawer and prepare his own mug. He stirred the spoon inside the mug, making more noise than was necessary, she thought rather irritably.
He could do whatever he wanted. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him.
“Got any marshmallows?”
Corinne ignored him.
“’Cause this would be great with marshmallows.”
She tightened the belt of her robe and blew on her chocolate.
“Or maybe some tuna. Got any tuna?”
She looked up at him, startled. He grinned. “I knew you weren’t ignoring me.”
“Yes, I am.” She turned away.
“No, you’re not.”
One brow cocked, Corinne silently turned back to the bar. “Sweetheart, what was that in there?”
“I told you. It was a nightmare. Haven’t you ever had a nightmare?”
“Not one like that.”
“No? And what’s your worst nightmare, Toby?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “What horrible mistakes have you made that keep you up at night?” Corinne closed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, scratched the back of her neck. “Look, I’m sorry. Just...I need to be alone. Just finish your drink and go.”
“Is that what you think is going to happen? Because that’s not how it’s going to go.”
“Oh, really?” She faced him again with one hand on her hip.
“Really.” He took one step toward her. She backed up, the edge of the bar pressing into the small of her back.
“I’ll tell you how it’s going to go.” Toby’s voice was low and controlled, his eyes intent, never wavering from hers. “First, you’re going to put the mug down. Then I’m going to put my arms around you.”
He took another step toward her. Corinne’s mouth went dry.
“You’re going to fight me at first, because that’s how you are. You have to feel in control at all times. But pretty soon you’ll relax and realize how right I am.”
“In your dreams.” Corinne’s voice was thin and shaky to her own ears. She edged down the bar.
“Yes,” Toby agreed. “In my dreams.” He took another step closer, so near now she could touch his chest, if she reached her hand up a little. Instead, she remained frozen, trapped by Toby’s eyes like a butterfly pinned to a board.
“You’re going to relax and let me take care of you. Because you’ll realize that it feels good to be held. That it makes you feel better to be comforted. That you don’t have to be alone, you don’t have to go through everything by yourself. That you can talk to me, and you can tell me how you feel, and it doesn’t make you weaker. It makes you stronger.”
He reached out, his long fingers wrapping around her mug. Her grip tightened. He set his own mug on the counter and began prying her fingers loose one at a time. His gentle coaxing continued, low, slow and hypnotic.
“You’re going to realize that you feel better not pushing me away. That I can help you. You’re going to realize that this is what you need—to face your demons with someone who cares about you. You’re going to realize that even though I can’t go back and change what happened, I can make you feel better now. I can keep what happened a year ago from haunting you now. I can keep it from haunting you from now on.”
He was wrong. When he got the mug out of her hand, he wrapped his arms around her. But she didn’t fight it. She stood stiffly against him, her body unaccustomed to the feel of another so close. He was warm, and she felt as if she’d been frozen in a block of ice for a year. He was strong, and she felt too weak to raise a hand. He was solid, and she felt she would dissolve into vapor and float away.
The bad thing about Toby was, he knew about basic human instinct He knew the power of a touch. He knew that when she felt the security wrap around her, she would be unable to pull away.
His arms tightened on her shoulders, and she felt herself slowly relax despite herself. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, and he cupped the back of her head, pulling it to rest against his own shoulder.
His breath lightly fanned against her ear, and she lay her cheek against his shoulder, letting go. She ignored the voice that said this was wrong, this was dangerous. It was just a hug. A hug couldn’t hurt anyone. Not a hug that felt this good.
“See,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you Right here, right now, you’re safe.”
Until he said the words, Corinne didn’t realize how much on her guard she’d been. For the first time in a year, she felt truly safe. She took a deep breath, feeling the tension go out of her arms. Relaxation spread down her torso and into her legs, a warm, liquid sensation. Her mind searched idly for a moment in the past year when she’d been relaxed. There was none.
His hand stroked the back of her head, smoothing and soothing He lifted her hair and cupped the back of her neck, his skin warm against hers. Corinne sighed and leaned closer into him.
“See,” he said again. “I told you.”
She knew he was trying to get a reaction from her. She didn’t care She smiled against his shoulder.
“You’re a know-it-all,” she said.
“You’re just now figuring that out?”
She laughed lightly and pulled away. She put a hand to his chest and pushed him gently away from her. “Okay, Sheriff, you win. You were right. That felt nice. I feel better now. Are you happy?”
He cupped her chin. “I am, as a matter of fact. But I’m not done yet. I said you were going to talk to me. I’m not leaving until you spill your guts.”
He was out of luck, she thought as she raised her mug for another sip of her chocolate. There was a limit to her weakness.
“If you don’t mind, I’m not much in the mood for gut spilling tonight. Perhaps some other time.”
“Nope.” He lifted his mug in one hand, took her hand in the other, and led her into the living room.
“Toby, really, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. And as angry as I am that you openly defied my wishes and stayed when I asked you to leave, I’m glad you were here. You were right. I feel much better”
“Good,” he said. He sat on the couch and pulled her down beside him. “But not good enough. Spill it.”
“I’m not going to spill anything.” She didn’t want to argue with him, didn’t want to break the soft bubble of good feeling she was carrying around her after their embrace. But she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. “Seriously, Toby, I’m fine now. You can consider me both protected and served, okay?”
“Nope. You need to talk.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t have to, and I’m not going to. It wasn’t that big a deal, Toby. It’s not as if I went to war or anything. I got shot. I just happened to be on national television when it happened to me.”
“And you just happen to be the only woman I ever—” His voice broke off suddenly, and she turned to study his face.
He wore a strange expression, one she couldn’t quite name. Then suddenly it was gone. The old Toby was back, looking a little too sure of hims
elf, as usual. “I know you don’t want to hear this But you really ought to see a doctor about those nightmares.”
Corinne fingered the edge of her robe. She wasn’t going to tell him anything, really. But then, the words just came out. “I’ve already seen a doctor.”
“And?”
“And...you know what an anxiety attack is?”
“I think so.”
“It’s when your body thinks you’re in danger, even when you aren’t, and reacts accordingly. Dumps all this adrenaline into your system—enough to outrun a charging bull, it feels like—except there’s really nothing threatening you.”
Toby shook his head and ran one large hand through her hair. “It looked scary as hell, sweetheart. How often does this happen?”
“I think I’m about over it, really. I hardly ever have them anymore.”
anymore?”
Corinne sighed. She should have known he’d keep digging. But then, he’d already seen the worst, so there was no point in trying to keep secrets. “I had them more frequently, right after... Well, more after the divorce, really, than after the shooting. Aunt Muriel made me see this shrink a few times. He said it was all hitting me too hard—the shooting, ending my career, ending my marriage. That I felt attacked and unsafe. But you know shrinks. Maybe he knew what he was talking about, maybe not. Really, Toby, it was just a temporary thing. And tonight...you know, with the rock through the window, and the new job and all.” She hugged her elbows and rubbed her hands briskly over her arms. “Anyway, tonight was an aberration. If you hadn’t come charging in here, no one would even have known. I might have just gone back to sleep and not even known myself.”
“Are they dangerous, these attacks? I mean, it looked like you were having a heart attack or something.”
Corinne edged away. “No, they’re not dangerous I’m fine.”
“Well, do you think the doctor was right? Did it bother you that much, leaving your job and...and your husband?”
Corinne shrugged. “Who knows. What difference does it make?”
“It makes a lot of difference, if it makes you feel like that.”
“I’m fine, I told you!” Corinne turned her cup in her hand and watched the tan-and-brown liquid swirl together. “And it doesn’t matter, because what’s done is done. If I made a mistake, it’s my own fault.” She thought about making him leave, but she wasn’t ready to be alone again. Not just yet.
Toby studied her for a moment. “Talk to me, Corinne. Tell me about that time in your life.”
“This isn’t necessary, Toby.”
“Yes, it is. If you don’t talk, it’s just going to build inside you until you go crazy.”
Corinne rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Haskell,” she said dryly. “You guys watch too many talk shows at the station.”
“We try to be enlightened. You’re the one being stubborn. What else did the good doctor say?”
Corinne shrugged. “I just saw him a couple of times. He told me I wasn’t going to die like I thought I was, and he told me how to ride out the panic attacks. Since then, I haven’t really needed to see anyone.”
“After an ordeal like you went through, I’d think you’d want to have extensive therapy.”
“I didn’t need extensive therapy. And I wish you wouldn’t call it an ordeal. The whole thing only took nine minutes, from the moment he grabbed me to the moment he shot me.”
“It was the longest nine minutes of my life, I can tell you that.”
“Your life?” Corinne cut her gaze to the side and scoffed. “You should try being the one with the gun at your head, instead of just watching it.”
His face was serious. “I would give anything if it could have been that way. I would’ve traded places with you in a heartbeat.”
Corinne swallowed at the sudden fierceness in his voice. Her nose and eyes were burning with tears she wasn’t about to give in to. This was why she didn’t want to talk about that day.
“Okay, Toby, so we’ve talked. I feel better. As a matter of fact, I believe I’m healed. No more nightmares for me ever again. And no more panic attacks. You were right. You’ve been a big help. Now let’s talk about something else.”
Toby shook his head and put a hand on her knee. “You’re not getting off that easy. You haven’t said anything about Sulley, or the trial, or the riot.”
“Oh yes, the riot. A perfect example of what I don’t want to talk about.”
“That must have been scary, even before the guy with the gun showed up.”
Corinne ignored him.
“You shouldn’t have been there. I thought that bozo you were married to had something to say about what assignments you were given. He shouldn’t have let you go.”
Corinne pulled her feet onto the couch and hugged her knees. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t make her mind go somewhere else, make herself think about something—anything—else. The more Toby pushed, the more scenes of that day popped into her mind.
“I insisted,” she said against the skin of her knee. “Sulley was my story from the first. I wasn’t going to let someone else finish my job for me.”
Despite her resolve not to, Corinne found it easy to talk about Sulley. The words came in a soft, steady stream out of her mouth, out of her heart. She didn’t raise her head. Somehow it made it easier, talking about Sulley with her head resting on her knees.
Joshua Moon Sulley. The unofficial leader of the African-American community in Dallas. Sulley could always be found on one picket line or another, or at a town meeting, ferreting out racial discrimination of any form. He was the most recognized figure m the city, but definitely not the most well-liked. You never saw Sulley without a picket sign m his hand and an impassioned speech on his lips. He was revered by half the city, reviled by the other half.
The first time Corinne interviewed Sulley, she found him to be an obnoxious grandstander, more interested in spouting his personal grievances than he was in helping anyone. But as she came to know him, she came to admire him for his passion, to respect him for the generous heart he never showed the cameras, and to be amazed at the progress he made when others failed. After a while she counted herself not only as one of Sulley’s supporters, but one of his friends as well.
When Sulley’s business partner and lifelong friend was murdered, along with Sulley’s wife, the first fingers of suspicion pointed at Sulley. They didn’t waver until his conviction.
She had covered every aspect of the investigation, every moment of the sensational trial. And with every bit of evidence that mounted against Sulley, Corinne felt her soul wither inside.
She shook her head and forced her mind back to the present.
“This is serving absolutely no purpose, Toby,” she told him, her cheek still resting on her knee. Though they weren’t touching, she could feel his body close to her own, could feel the heat and strength of him beside her. “Talking isn’t going to change anything.”
He didn’t answer. She jumped a little when she felt his knuckle brush against her neck, rubbing the skin from her shoulder up to her ear.
“A lot of it was probably my fault anyway.” Her own voice surprised her. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
“Your fault? With Sulley?”
Corinne sighed and raised her head. “No, with the riot.”
“Oh, yeah,” Toby scoffed. “You are single-handedly responsible for race relations in a city of a million people.”
“I’m serious. I wanted Sulley to be innocent so badly. I was ready to believe the defense’s theory that he’d been framed. I was more than ready. I was anxious for it. I hoped—I actually hoped—that he’d been framed. I wanted to see corruption in city officials, corruption in the entire Dallas Police Department, before I wanted him to be guilty.”
“You can’t feel bad about that, sweetheart. It was a terrible situation all around. There was no way it was going to have a good ending. Either way, someone did a terrible thing He was your friend. Of course you wanted to s
upport him.”
“I should have been a journalist first, not his friend. I should have reported the facts in an objective manner.” The words spilled out, though she hadn’t before allowed these thoughts to fully form in her mind. All her fears and doubts and regrets about Sulley—about herself—came to the front of her mind, and she knew she’d never be able to get them to recede again.
“My reports were biased. I know they were. I gave those people hope that he’d be acquitted.”
“I watched your reports, Corinne. They weren’t biased. You presented the facts.”
Corinne shook her head. “It was in my heart that he was innocent. Whether it was in my words or not, my beliefs would have come through. I gave them the belief that there was no other possible conclusion, that he was falsely accused. No wonder they noted when he was convicted. They had the rug pulled out from under them.”
“You can’t possibly think it was your fault, Corinne. You were one reporter. One. How many other press and television people were there? You weren’t the only source of information those people had.”
“That’s not the point, Toby. My reports reached hundreds of thousands of people, many of whom rioted that day.”
She leaned back and rested against the back of the couch, feeling drained. She didn’t fight when Toby put his arm around her shoulder and rubbed her arm
“Corinne, it’s not your fault. The guy was guilty.”
“I know,” she said miserably “I know he was.”
“Those people were noting because they were as upset as you, and wanted to lash out.”
“They were rioting because they believed their leader had been framed for murder and convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. And I helped them believe that.”
“I can’t believe you’re blaming yourself for any of it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I got too close to the situation. I let myself get personally involved.”
“If you didn’t, you’d be some kind of unfeeling monster.”
“No, Toby. I’d be a journalist.”
