Surviving Eden (Surviving Series Book 1)

by Virginia Wine

  This young woman is complex, intelligent, brave, and strong-willed, but she’s made a wrong turn. She’s a young woman who just wants to find her mother and will go to great lengths to achieve her goal. No matter the sacrifice.

  I’m sure of only one thing now: I will stop her from working in that club. Then, and only then, will I fight, and go to battle with her to find her parents.

  ***

  I barely make it through my conference call. I notice Miss Knight has already left, and there’s a note. Of course there’s note.

  Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right.

  And eat something.

  Hmmm. What does that mean? She seems to be projecting her own understanding to the situation. I have to give her credit. Either she’s extremely astute, or she’s been listening at the door.

  ***

  When I arrive home, I change my clothes while my emotions are still raw. The cold beer in my hand goes down smoothly as I’m flooded with images of her and the men. Her body is exposed, and her beauty is tainted. The thought of these men, strangers, their eyes are on her. It makes me physically sick, but I’ll admit there’s a secret part of me that’s jealous and dares to be one of them.

  Shame washes over me. Realistically, I know she should be respected, not defiled. I down the last drop of beer as dinner. Then I grab another bottle on my way toward the bedroom, finishing it before I reach the door. A slight buzz lingers in my body, but it’s not enough to make me forget. I climb into bed, feeling guilt mixed with desire, but it’s worth the disgust I inflict on myself as sleep takes me. Tonight I’ll dream of her.

  ***

  I wake in a cold sweat, the alarm clock blaring. I have a slight recollection of the haunted nightmare, but I can’t pinpoint any details. I blame myself because I’ve allowed myself to succumb to an emotional weakness: her. I’ve lost control, the one constant in my life. Who’s pulling the strings? Because it sure as hell isn’t me. This is unacceptable to me. I’m getting in the way of her therapy, not guiding it.

  Of course, I’ve told myself all this before, and then I veer off course in her presence. If I am honest with myself, her closeness makes me feel alive.

  ***

  On Wednesday I’m handed a message as I pass by Miss Knight’s desk. Her arm is held high in the air, as if I would miss it. She’s on the phone, again.

  “Women can smell bullshit from a mile away.”

  I quickly grab the message and close my door. Her exuberant personality and efficient work ethic are an interesting combination, but her eccentric friends and the conversations she has with them are pure entertainment. From afar, that is.

  The memo says to call Vince Barnett and provides his number. I’m curious to see if he’s checking in with me, or if he’s fishing for information. I decide not to wait and dial his number immediately.

  “Mr. Barnett? It’s Dr. Grant returning your call.” I attempt to set the tone, trying to put some professional distance between us.

  “Thank you, doctor. I appreciate your promptness. Please call me Vince. I don’t want to waste your time, so I’ll get straight to the point. I’ve spoken to Eden, and she seems to be doing well. It’s a devastating time for all of us, but I’m relieved that she is now able to function normally. Her school has not suffered, thank goodness. Our family owes you a great debt for guiding her in the right direction.”

  His praise and sincerity cause new guilt to bloom inside of me. It’s my new to-go emotion.

  “Vince, I’m happy to hear you feel that way. Eden has participated in her therapy, which has allowed me to work with her to create these positive results.”

  It’s kind of a bullshit answer, but I’ll never betray her confidence. What goes on behind my door is only between my patient and myself.

  “There is something…” He pauses, and I feel the hairs on my neck rise.

  “We don’t want her exploring her past—more specifically, her adoption.”

  Well, it seem as if my prediction was dead-on. I don’t like this one bit.

  “My wife and I are only trying to honor my brother’s wishes and protect her from what we feel is a dangerous road to follow.”

  “I understand your concern Vince. Naturally, I would not want Eden to be put in any dangerous situation, either, but if she wants to pursue her past, she will—no matter what anyone else says, including me.”

  I’m very suspicious now. Eden was right; they are keeping something from her. But why? Life is all about finding yourself, even if that means going to the extremes. Obviously, Vince doesn’t have a clue what lengths she has already gone to achieve her goal. I’m confident that he would have had the same reaction I had.

  “She is determined, doctor. I realize that. I can’t say that I know much about her biological parents, but I do know that my brother gave her a better life. He used the phrase ‘rescued her,’ so I have to assume that her original home environment was unsafe. It would be unfortunate to see her get involved with people now who didn’t have her best interest at heart then.”

  He’s starting to redeem himself in my eyes. I agree with what he’s saying, and with what I know now? He may indeed be right.

  “Vince, all I can say is that I wouldn’t expect anything less from Eden. She’s a strong-willed young woman, but I will discuss the subject with her. I have her best interest in mind also, but I can’t make any promises or give you any more than that.”

  “I understand, and that’s all I ask. Thank you again, for everything.”

  We hang up, and his words linger. Her next session will determine my next move.

  ***

  “Levi is here, Dr. Thor.” Miss Knight’s friendly voice announces his arrival.

  “I’ll be right there.” I switch gears quickly to focus on my next patient’s needs and goals. Then I open the door and see Levi playing on his phone. It seems like such a normal teenage thing. “Winning?”

  He looks up and one side of his mouth rises in a smile. “You only play against your own score, so I guess that’s a yes.” Then he stands and walks in, taking his seat and tucking his phone away.

  “How are you, Levi?”

  “Fine.” I’m used to the typical one-word answers most teenagers give.

  “I spoke to your aunt. Did she mention it?” I’m hoping that she’s shown some tact in her approach to the situation. Her financial interest in the situation appalls me but staying with her is still in Levi’s best interest.

  “Yeah, kinda. She moved me into my cousin’s room, so I guess I’m staying.”

  This kid has courage galore. I feel like he’s ready for the next step.

  “I have some news I wanted to discuss with you. The investigator has informed me that he found your baseball hat under your parent’s bed.”

  I pause for some reaction, and I get it. His bug-eyed look of fear and horror says it all.

  “Well…” His face crimson with panic. “That could have been left there weeks ago.”

  “I don’t think so, Levi. You wear that same cap at your games, right?” I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. “Hey, buddy, it’s time to be honest with me—and with yourself.”

  “I can’t.”

  I watch him shut down and shut me out.

  “Levi, it wasn’t your responsibility to protect her. Staying in a safe place was the right choice. I hope you know that.”

  His agitation is causing him to squirm as his knee shakes up and down. I know I’m close. A sense of guilt is a powerful weapon used upon one’s self, and I’m familiar with the feeling. I know it all too well.

  “You can’t tell, Dr. Thor.”

  My breath stops, and my entire body halts. I meet his gaze head-on as I rest my hand on his arm, but only for a minute before I encourage him to go on.

  “I can’t tell anyone, Levi. Only you can tell.”

  He nods.

  “It was raining that night, pouring down. We watched as the water was blowing sideways. The team waite
d for it to stop, but it didn’t, so my game was postponed and I took the activity bus home early.”

  He pauses, and I know he blames himself for the story to come.

  “I came in the back door, but they were fighting so loud that they didn’t hear me. I knew this was a bad one.”

  His eyes are closed, and he’s fighting the truth, fighting the tears. Both of these I would welcome with open arms.

  “I understand that you had to measure the situation to form a plan of safety. What happened next?” I start writing, head down, making notes of his story, but also to give him the distance he needs to unveil his nightmare.

  “She was on the living room floor, bleeding. I couldn’t move, torn about whether to run to her, or run away.”

  “It’s okay if you ran, Levi.”

  His hands are fisting his pants in anger, twisting his jeans unknowingly.

  “I ran.”

  Tears start to trail down both his cheeks. My heart clinches, absorbing his pain, but I remain silent.

  “I ran and hid under their bed. They would never know I was there. I heard the sounds. I’ll never forget those sounds, but I still hid under their bed. Like a coward.”

  “No, Levi, you were smart. You are smart. You would have been in way over your head that day, and we both know what could have happened.”

  He nods in agreement.

  “It was like I was watching a horror movie. Once they made it to the bedroom, he had her on the ground, hitting her and pinning her down. I could see his knees on either side of her waist.”

  He takes a minute to grab a tissue and wipes his face. I find I want revenge on a man I’ve never met, a nasty, hideous human being who doesn’t deserve to walk this earth. Reining in my anger, however, I give him the okay to continue.

  “I could see every hit. Her nose was breaking, and there was so much blood. And in the middle, the middle of everything, she turned her head, our eyes met, and I knew she was pleading with me, but I didn’t know if she wanted me to save her or save myself.”

  His sobs are so intense that his ability to speak is only between the cries. It’s heart-wrenching to see.

  “She wanted you to stay where you were, Levi.”

  He looks up at me questioningly through his wet, red eyes, deciding whether to believe me or not.

  “Her eyes were just a blank stare, and I tried to be quiet. I tried not to scream or cry. I waited until I was sure he was gone and then I went two houses down to my friends’ place and had them call 911.”

  He looks at me as if, that’s it. Finally, I’ve heard the real story. The next step we need take is to dive into is his PTSD. But not today.

  “Most men don’t make it through something as terrifying as that, Levi. You made it through something horrific; that’s how strong you are. You became a man that day. You grew up that night to discover that while life may deal you an injustice, and you could also be called upon to speak for a mother who cannot speak for herself.”

  I could feel the sense the relief Levi was experiencing since he’d bared his soul. The weight on his shoulders appeared lighter.

  ***

  After Levi leaves, the heightened energy still lingers, but I’m able to put a certain amount of distance between me and my patients. Except when it comes to Eden, where I’ve jumped off the deep end and am now drowning in her wake.

  The office building I work in offers a gym membership on the ground floor, so I decide to take advantage of it. I need to pound the treadmill. I have two hours before my next appointment with Eden, and I need to be physically and mentally strong to handle it.

  I push my body until it screams for me to stop, then I shower and dress in the same suit. Still on edge, I sit in silence in my office and wait, withdrawing further into my cave.

  Chapter Nine

  Theo

  Urgency. That’s what I feel. I need to convince this independent young woman to stop her search—at least the manner in which she is doing it. I feel as though she is drowning, and it’s solely up to me to throw her a lifeline.

  “Dr. Grant.” Miss Knight’s voice echoes in my brain.

  “I’ll be right there.” It’s unnecessary for her to announce Eden. I’ve been waiting, counting down the minutes, calculating my next move. As I open the door, I watch her gracefully move toward me. She’s everything I shouldn’t want, but a volcanic desire explodes, it’s lava spilling over the edges. I had no control as it fell down the mountain in a rapid fiery gas, burning everything in it’s path, including me.

  “Dr. Grant.” Her not-so-innocent look takes in my body, causing guilt to crash down on me as my professional discipline takes a beating. I watch her every move. The sway of her hips, the fucking heels she’s wearing. As I’m trying to pull myself together, she looks back at me, aware that I haven’t moved an inch. Then she smiles, and I realize that I never stood a chance.

  “Eden, how are you today?” Taking my seat, I open her file and take an extra minute or two to gather my wits.

  “I’m fine.”

  Any man knows that when a woman says I’m fine, it’s definitely code for not fine.

  “Tell me what’s bothering you.” Closing the file, I show her she has my full attention, but she always does, and she knows it.

  “I broke it off with Denver, for good.” She smiles back at me. “The off again on-again roller coaster relationship just isn’t worth it.”

  I thought he was already gone, but the overconfident look doesn’t fool me.

  She narrows her violet eyes, awaiting my response.

  “How did he handle it?”

  My pure delight is entirely uncalled for.

  “How would you?” she asks, as if she senses my real answer.

  “I’m assuming he was hurt, possibly angry.”

  “He was, but he was a weight crushing me. I used to say yes to everything because I didn’t want to disappoint people in my life. I wanted everyone to like me. Now…”

  She stalls, and I watch the tilt of her head, waiting for her next words, which never come.

  “And now?” I prompt.

  “I’m afraid I don’t give a damn what people think.”

  Witnessing her fiery confidence is cause for alarm and appealing, simultaneously.

  “That could be a positive or a negative thing, depending on the situation. If it causes you to become more emotionally distant, for example, it may be detrimental when connecting to people. If it’s used as a shield to protect you from someone who wants to control you, then it will serve you well.”

  “It helps me cope with what I’ll be doing tonight.”

  I silently welcome the opportunity to plead my case.

  “About tonight. I think it’s possible that you may rely on that trait too heavily to get through the evening. That leads me to believe that your actions are detrimental in this particular case.”

  “Of course you would think that. We stagger through life looking for the right answers, and sometimes the method in which we do so will be scrutinized. Is that what you’re doing right now, Dr. Grant? Scrutinizing me?”

  “That’s hardly the case, Eden. I’m here to help you make healthy decisions. Is it a surprise that I find your method harmful, when it means you’re putting yourself at risk, night after night?”

  “So this isn’t some sort of intervention?”

  “If it was, would it work?”

  “Highly unlikely, doctor. You know why I do what I do. It’s a means to an end. Nothing more.”

  “You’re wrong, Eden. Despite the difficulties in healing, grief is a complex process clouding your judgment. What you’re doing will cause long-term complications.”

  I feel as if I’m losing the battle here. She is crossing the line, and anything I say will just be perceived as judgment. My goal, however, is to create authentic connections.

  “I understand your concern, doctor, but I can separate myself from what I’ll be doing tonight because I’ll be fighting for the truth. The secrets of my
past control my present.”

  “That’s what worries me, Eden.”

  I dismiss my internal struggle to control my most secret fantasies. Acting on these attractions, however inappropriate, is something entirely different, and I haven’t crossed any lines—yet.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she says softly, giving the moment a strange sweetness, or so I tell myself, but to share that with her would be out of bounds.

  “I’d love nothing more than not to worry. It’s more important to me to help you through every facet of your grief. The grief that clings to you. I believe it’s directly related to the extreme behavior you’re exhibiting to find your missing parents.”

  I know all too well about the fragments of the past that we wish we could forget. I’ve buried mine, but it’s never left me.

  “Maybe you’re right, doctor, but I’m stronger than you realize.” She pauses for a moment, her eyes glistening as they reach mine. “I’m continuing my search. Nothing you say or do will stop me.”

  Then there’s only one thing to do.

  ***

  I pull into the parking lot of the club. It’s located in a rundown neighborhood, and the flashing red neon sign screaming FOREPLAY is hard to miss. I’m taken back by the expensive cars, but then I realize that I’m here in my lavish sports car. I question once again if this is a good idea or not. Getting her fired is the plan. Having her quit on her own was my first choice, but so far that option has imploded. There’s only two acceptable choices left, and I’m going with my only choice.

  I realize that I’m willingly crossing a fine ethical line. I won’t be able to undo it once I’ve crossed the threshold. My professional training would consider this situation a textbook example of counter transference, when a therapist develops feelings for a client. And the cold truth is that I could lose everything. My license could be taken away, and my reputation destroyed. Yet my legs still carry me straight through the front door of the club, where I’m met by a very large man. The bouncer hovers over me with malice.