Playing Doctor

by Cathy Yardley

  He nudged her. “Look out the windows, Cress.”

  She glanced. Trees. There were trees all around them. And a large, ornate sign:

  Welcome to the Trees of Mystery.

  She gasped. “The redwoods?” she asked. Squealed, actually. “I have always wanted to see these!”

  “It’s not Lothlorien, but I remembered you saying you’ve always wanted to go to Klamath and see the redwoods,” he said, looking a little sheepish. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to go outside, or if you want to risk it, but there should be plenty to see just from inside the RV.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling choked up. He’d driven hours out of the way, not for himself, but for her. “It’s probably the sweetest thing anybody’s ever done for me. I can’t believe you remembered that!”

  “Yeah, well,” he sent her a lopsided grin, “I remember a lot about our conversations. They’re the highlight of my day, usually.”

  “Me, too,” she said, feeling shy.

  He pulled into the parking lot. “What do you say? Want to risk it?”

  She ought to have kept her focus. This was hours out of the way… and, it seemed, she was falling headlong into the powerful crush. The fact that he was saying all the right things, and doing the most thoughtful acts she could imagine, only made it worse.

  Focus!

  “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll hold you, keep an arm around you. And the second you feel uncomfortable, we’ll go back to the RV, okay? Just a test run.”

  She closed her eyes. See the trees she’d always dreamed of seeing – with Noah’s arm around her?

  “Sure,” she said instead. “Let’s do this.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Noah kept repeating. He looked down at Cressida’s face, looking for any sign of strain. “Because just say the word, and I’ll pop you right back in the RV. You’ll be snuggled up in blankets in the sleeping cabin, watching Doctor Who clips before you know it.”

  She smiled at him absently but didn’t look at him. Instead, she was absolutely absorbed with the huge towering trees all around them. They’d looked at the kitschy sculptures of Paul Bunyon (at least, he thought it was Paul Bunyon – some kind of logging guy), and other wooden sculptures of large figures, but then they’d taken a trail and now they were surrounded by the real deal.

  She was entranced.

  “I’ve read about them, seen pictures online and in books and stuff,” she breathed. “But there’s really no way to get across how immense they are. It’s magical.”

  He was staring at her. She looked like a woodland elf herself, with her long ruby hair and creamy pale skin, and dream-filled, mysterious gray-green eyes. She looked gorgeous.

  As he’d predicted, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before – and what sleep he had gotten was drenched in visions of her, and of their kiss. And, if he was being honest, it went a lot further than they’d actually gone.

  He came up with the brainstorm of taking her to Klamath because he’d been thinking of her. She’d mentioned wanting to see the redwood trees, and he’d remembered it. He thought taking some of the pressure off would make her feel better, and so far, it had. The fact that he got to put his arm around her shoulders and hold her tight to his side was just a bonus. She fit against him nicely, her head at just about shoulder level.

  Kissing level.

  He shook his head. If he was really being honest with himself, he’d also admit that the reason he took this however-many-hour detour off the beaten path to the Mojave was because he still wasn’t sure what to do. He needed her help in finding the treasure – and then he’d somehow need to take it from her and give it to Killian. It was going to crush her.

  But what choice do I have?

  “Do you smell that?” she said, her expression still dreamy. “That’s petrichor.”

  “What’s petrichor?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath. “It’s the smell after rain,” she said. “It must’ve rained last night. Doesn’t that smell glorious?”

  He grinned. “It does smell pretty nice.”

  “If they bottled that smell, I’d totally buy it,” she said, then smirked at herself. “There’s an episode of Doctor Who where Amy Pond is the model for a perfume called Petrichor. I remember thinking the same thing then – I would buy that perfume.”

  “I’d forgotten about that,” he admitted. Then he nudged her with his hip. “What is it with you and that show, anyway?”

  “What? There are lots of diehard Doctor Who fans out there.”

  “Yeah, but you have references to it in your signature, you quote it all the time – hell, you strong armed me into watching it,” he asked. “I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m just curious. What do you love about that show?”

  She was quiet a moment, biting on the corner of her lip. Which reminded him of biting that lower lip himself. He squelched the feeling, since his body was starting to react to it, and instead looked at her eyes.

  “I think it’s because The Doctor is, at heart, a good man.”

  “Aren’t all heroes?”

  “No,” she said. “There are a ton of anti-heroes out there, and there are these good super-humans, like Superman or Captain America. With The Doctor, here’s this immortal guy, this Time Lord, who goes around in his goofy police box that’s bigger on the inside. He’s running away from the death of his world and his people, but he’s also going around rescuing people and trying to help out where he can. He makes mistakes – he’s not human, but at the same time, he’s the ultimate human, with all the vulnerabilities and emotions. And he fixes things, with his sonic screwdriver rather than with a laser pistol, you know? He’s not about violence.”

  She shivered a little when she said that last bit. Instinctively, he cuddled her closer.

  “And he’s funny, and wicked smart,” she said. “And he goes on adventures. When the world outside seems inherently unsafe, it’s nice to live vicariously through someone else, you know?”

  He nodded. “I get that.” Before he could follow up, his phone chimed with a text. “Excuse me,” he said, then pulled out his phone. The number was an L.A. one, so he opened it.

  You’ve got a week. Don’t forget – this isn’t a vacation.

  He grimaced, feeling dread like a ball of ice in his stomach. Killian. Did the guy know somehow that he’d taken this scenic route? Or was he just being a dick?

  Something must’ve shown on his face, because Cressida looked at him with concern. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” He silenced the phone, then shoved it back in his jeans pocket. “What else about the Doctor do you love? Which one’s your favorite?”

  She was frowning a little, her nose wrinkling in dismay. She took another deep breath, this one a little forced. He wondered if anxiety was finally kicking in. “This probably isn’t my business, but after last night… I was… oh, bother.”

  “Bother?” he repeated, chuckling.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He blinked. This was not where he expected this to go.

  “Or…. You know, a wife?” Her cheeks had flushed pink. “Because I don’t go around kissing people in relationships.” She rolled her eyes. “Or anyone else, for that matter, but I really don’t want to kiss a guy who’s already committed!”

  “No. No girlfriend, definitely no wife,” he said. “I haven’t dated anybody in over a year or so.”

  “Really?”

  “I spend my time doing two things: working, and doing the hunt,” he said, then smiled. “And talking to this cute Wastelander girl who is wicked smart.”

  She smiled slowly, and he hugged her. “So does that ease your mind about kissing me?”

  She hid her face against his chest for a minute, and he wanted to kiss her again that second. But she pulled away, her expression resolute.

  “Then who was on the phone?” she asked. “I know, it’s not my business, but…”

  He grimaced. She didn’t trust him. The damn
ed thing was, she shouldn’t trust him. “That was a creditor. Someone I owe,” he said, and at least he wasn’t lying there. Not exactly, anyway.

  She looked down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” Guilt lashed at him. “Don’t ever apologize for trying to protect yourself, Cressida.”

  “I just… well, Hailey would’ve warned me, and I don’t know you that well,” Cressida mumbled. Then she brightened. “Well, at least when we find the treasure, that problem will be dealt with, right?”

  He hid his wince, keeping a bright smile on his face. “Yup.”

  When I find the treasure, I’ll be able to pay him back all right. But then I’m going to lose you.

  And he was starting to see just how painful that was going to be.

  Chapter 7

  Cressida was still riding the high of walking through the redwood forest, circled by Noah’s strong arm. It had felt like heaven, once she’d gotten over her initial nerves. Somehow, being with Noah helped her feel safer, or at least distracted her from the anxieties and questions that would otherwise crop up. It wasn’t a cure, not by any stretch, she acknowledged. But it was a nice thing to find, and it had been a great morning.

  They’d taken about an hour or so, had lunch, and now they were back on the road, headed to the 5 freeway and back towards Los Angeles, and from there the Mojave. That’s when she decided to share with him her research.

  “I’m ninety-nine percent positive it’s the hot spring,” she said to him from the passenger seat, as trees and lush green scenery moved past the windows. “It’s called Minerva’s – that’s the Roman for Athena. It’s right by the Rainbow Basin, which is like the Stones of Artifice in the Wastelands.”

  “That’s fucking brilliant,” Noah said, which made her practically glow with happiness. “So you think it’ll be on the property?”

  “I doubt it,” she said. “Unless he cut some sort of deal with the property owners, I can’t imagine they’d be happy with people tramping around and digging things up.”

  “There will probably be people doing that anyway, if anybody else figures out your clue,” Noah said, then grinned. “Of course, we’ll have found it before anybody else has any idea. They’ll still be spelunking in Colorado.”

  “Or tromping around in the Badlands,” she said, shaking her head. “I have had so many people from the boards email me this week, asking me for ‘just a small hint.’ And some of the people know about my agoraphobia, and had the gall to say it wasn’t like I was going to do anything with my clue, so why not tell them?”

  His jaw dropped open. “No shit. Someone really said that to you?”

  “Daryll357,” she said.

  “Well, Daryll’s a dick.”

  She snickered. “Yeah. He’s gotten two warnings from the board moderators for some of his comments. I’m surprised he hasn’t been kicked off yet.” She stretched out in the chair. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. Thanks for today, Noah.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said. “And it wasn’t that big a deal.”

  “For me it was,” she said. “I haven’t been outside like that since I was, oh, ten years old, I’d say.”

  “The phobia started at ten?”

  “The anxiety started way before then,” she said, wanting him to understand just how monumental their excursion was for her. “I was the kid that was afraid of the dark, that always heard noises outside. I was scared of everything, it seemed like. My Mom got so impatient with me about it.” She sighed.

  “So what happened when you turned ten?” he asked.

  She paused, startled. Then she swallowed. “Well, that’s when I entered the foster care system,” she hedged, before calling herself out for her cowardice. “Because my parents died.”

  “Your parents died?” Noah sounded shocked. “Both of them? Jesus, I’m sorry. What happened? Some kind of accident?”

  “No, it was on purpose,” she murmured. She saw him shoot a curious glance at her.

  Just how much do I trust him? She never talked about this, she realized. Hailey knew the full story, as did Rachel, but she never discussed it with anyone else. Not even Kyla and Mallory knew.

  And how is he going to feel about me once he knows?

  She felt parched. She pulled a water bottle from the cupholder, opening it and taking a sip. Then she closed her eyes. “My mother killed my father, then herself.”

  There was silence for a long moment following. She opened her eyes. He was still driving, shaking his head.

  “I… wow. I don’t know what to say to that, without sounding like an asshole,” Noah said, and to her surprise it was the perfect way for him to respond. “I’m sorry.”

  Just like that, the words seemed to tumble out of her. “My Mom had some mental health issues,” she explained. “More depression than anxiety, although she’d get really manic sometimes. In retrospect, I wonder if she was undiagnosed bipolar. Anyway, she and my Dad got married young… she was in the foster system, too, and I think she was some kind of rebellion for my Dad, to get even with his family. She was also very beautiful, and I think that tipped the scales for him.”

  “I believe that,” Noah interjected. “Not about your Dad. About your Mom being beautiful, I mean.”

  Cressida felt a tickle of heat at the compliment, but it was doused by what she knew was coming. “My Dad was not the kind of guy who stayed faithful, though. So he started cheating on my Mom. She’d find out, and she’d threaten to hurt herself, or she’d hurt him, and they’d get into these raging fights. I remember being a really little kid when the fights started happening. He even left a couple of times, but he always came back.”

  “He must’ve really loved your Mom on some level.”

  “It turns out he came back when he ran out of money. He liked spending money a lot, too,” she said. She sighed. “Honestly, my Dad was kind of an asshole. Like when she threatened to kill me and then herself, to make him pay… he’d still go and leave me there with her, disappear for weeks at a time. Who does that?”

  “A fucking asshole,” Noah said darkly, “and then some. She threatened to kill you?”

  “She didn’t hurt me,” Cressida quickly assured him. Although she’d been terrified that her mother would at some point. “She just kept her anger focused on my Dad. Then, one day, a woman called saying that she’d lost my Dad’s baby, blaming my Mom for being a raging bitch and not letting him leave. My Mom told me to stay put, then she jumped in the car and drove to my Dad’s work. She was yelling at him in the parking garage. She crashed into his car a couple of times, and he came out to see what was going on. He jumped in front of his car – it was this red sports car he was leasing, one that he was really proud of – and he thought she’d stop.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “She didn’t. She just rammed right into him and squished him like a grape between her SUV and that stupid sports car. Then she backed up and hit him a few more times. He didn’t survive his injuries.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Cressida didn’t know why she kept going. Maybe because Noah was so easy to talk to. Maybe because she wanted him to know her, the real her, not just her online persona. “She drove away from the scene and slit her wrists. The police found her, then they came and got me. I was nine.”

  “This doesn’t help anything,” Noah said, slowly, “but I am so sorry. No wonder you’ve got phobias.”

  She felt light-headed. “Honestly, I probably would’ve had the phobias and the anxiety disorder. That’s just a genetic thing. But the PTSD…” She nodded. “Yeah. That’s on them. And it definitely is a contributing trigger. It’s never just one thing, it’s sort of a mish-mash of psychological drama, you know?”

  There was quiet again, and she felt a little… exposed. She’d made the choice, but the drawn-out silence seemed to emphasize her vulnerability. “Anyway, by the time I turned ten, my anxieties had developed into full blown phobias. I was gett
ing a couple hours of sleep a night and I couldn’t bear to go outside. I kept thinking something was going to get me. I only felt safe in my room, or in my closet. Of course, it didn’t help that ‘my’ room was either shared with somebody else or wasn’t my room for long – foster care roulette, or group home, that was the drill. My Dad’s family didn’t want to deal with my shit, they thought I was ‘loony like my Mom’, so they gave me up. And nobody wanted to foster or adopt a kid with my kind of problems.”

  She bit her lip. She wondered if Noah was now regretting taking on somebody with her wide array of psychological drama.

  “Bottom line – today was awesome, and it was because of you. And I’ll bet you didn’t expect or even necessarily want to hear my story, but I’m glad I told you, because I never tell anybody. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I feel safe around you, Noah. I trust you.”

  She looked out the window. They were making good progress, back to the 5. He drove carefully but confidently.

  She heard him sigh.

  “I care about you, Cressida,” he said. “And I’m glad that you feel comfortable enough to share your story with me. I’m sorry you went through all that shit in your life.”

  “It’s why it’s so important for me to have my place. I’m managing great, here in the RV, but I can’t imagine living here,” she said. “I need a place to recharge. I need my space. And while I’m sure I’d move if I had to, I hate to think about what it would take. What kind of setbacks I’d experience. That treasure is going to change everything.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “it’s going to be pretty boring. Why don’t you go watch some YouTube for a while? I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

  She blinked. It felt like a dismissal.

  She’d made him uncomfortable, she realized. She’d shared too much, and now he was drawing back. First she’d kissed him, then she’d overshared. What was she thinking?