Fear Is Louder Than Words

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Fear Is Louder Than Words Page 11

by Linda S. Glaz


  Finally, a bit of info Rochelle related to. Weakness. She had plenty of her own. “If I don’t meet up with you again, I hope all goes just like the doctor ordered.”

  A look of recognition crept over Lindy’s face and her nose wrinkled. She half-frowned, half-smiled. “Wait a minute. Rochelle Cassidy? Say, aren’t you a DJ or something? Not a DJ. Well, you know what I mean.” She snapped her fingers. “A talk show host?”

  “I do have a radio show.”

  “More than merely a show,” Lindy continued. “You’re like the inspirational guru for the Christian community in Detroit. You’re the one doing the piece on the clinic. I remember now. Dr. Reinholdt said you’d be haunting these hallowed halls.”

  Rochelle’s cheeks warmed. “Not a guru. And you must be one of the two or three dozen people who actually listen to my commentaries.”

  “More than a couple dozen, I believe. Very nice to meet you.”

  Remembering Mother Theresa’s words on humility, Rochelle drove the impetus back toward Lindy and the clinic. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. Now, do me a huge favor. Tell me I’m in the right place. My mom always said ‘if it’s too good to be true’ and all that.”

  “You’re definitely in the right place. You won’t be sorry learning about Dr. Reinholdt. Check out the baby showcase.” She placed a relaxed hand on Rochelle’s arm. “You’ll find it hard to believe some of the trails being blazed here. A friend of mine had her little boy in this place, and he’s already in music appreciation classes. He’s two!”

  Lindy waved at another patient and apologized for leaving so quickly. “I’ve been tracking down Sophie Kendrick for days. Will you excuse me?”

  “Sophie Kendrick?”

  “Sure. Brian’s wife.”

  “Oh. The Sophie Kendrick.” Her words faded on Lindy’s retreating steps. “I wonder if her husband will stay off his world tour until she has the baby.” Wow—that would make for a very interesting interview.

  While waiting for a sample class to start in the education center, Rochelle perused the photos in the showcase. Twin girls, no more than four, played violins so small they had to have been custom made. A third child, a boy about four or five, sat on a booster seat atop the bench of a baby grand piano. Another, with his hair a mass of fuzz, reminded her of Einstein. Well, there you have it. Einstein or Chopin to be sure.

  “I said tell her to wait!”

  Rochelle swung around.

  Lindy squared off with one of the housekeepers. “What’s the matter with you? Are you an idiot?”

  #

  The last patient had left an hour ago and the building stood all but empty. Dark hallways, smelling of very expensive cologne with a whiff of antiseptic, the only reminders that a lot of wealthy women had attended classes today. Erik smiled, his goals growing closer.

  With no one to interrupt them, Erik and Tessa completed their work elbow to elbow.

  Thinking over the day, he frowned. What had made him allow that reporter in his clinic? The minute she stepped in, he realized if anything were amiss, she could destroy their image.

  “Remember one thing, Tessa. The nurses are to direct her questions to me. Capice?” He nudged her away, returning to the counter where a pile of work awaited them both. Her face bore the rejection he’d witnessed on too many occasions.

  “Of course, I understand. I’m not stupid.”

  “I didn’t mean you were stupid, Tess.” He tried for a reassuring smile.

  With the smallest encouragement, the attractive auburn-haired beauty squirmed into his arms a second time, her fingers clutching and twirling the front of his shirt. She sighed as her head came to rest under his chin.

  “Can you stay tonight?” She looked up and batted her eyes, having no clue how he had grown to dislike the theatrical flirting. “Or is Margaret expecting you?”

  “I can stay. I told her I might have a late delivery. However, if I’m not there when she wakes up in the morning, she’ll wonder. And I can’t afford to play to her suspicions. So let’s get down to business.” He pushed at her hands.

  Her arms locked around him again, oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm. “Hmmm? And what business would that be?” Smooth fingers tickled the back of his neck.

  Erik shuddered. His body always betrayed him when it came to good intentions. “Priorities, Tess.”

  A man had to be the one to keep business matters afloat. A woman couldn’t understand the complexity of his accomplishments. No one had ever understood the full measure of the importance of his work. No one but his father. And he’d been eons behind when Erik took over.

  “I used to be your priority. If you stay married to that cold shrew, you’ll have no one to carry on your work. What about a son, Erik?”

  His jaw locked in a painful spasm. Divorce wasn’t an option.

  CHAPTER 33

  STRETCHED OUT IN PINK silk lounging pajamas with her whiskey in hand, Maggie lingered by the phone until well past ten, a CD blaring her favorite show tunes. Every now and then she saluted her cell phone with a glass and smirked. When it became obvious Erik wouldn’t be returning, not that she believed the delivery excuse, she washed down the sleeping pills he had prescribed with the remainder of her drink. She licked the rim of the glass. No sense missing any.

  If he confronted her, she would deny drinking with the medication. What Herr Doctor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She stood, rolled her neck from side to side, and staggered to her stash.

  Almost time for a trip to the store. Or maybe the store would deliver again. As long as Erik didn’t find out. He’d pitch a fit. She supposed an extra-large tip would keep her secret. Money changed things. Changed people.

  And why shouldn’t she? Erik used his money and position to get what he wanted.

  Erik and that monster father of his. People looking the other way. Even the medical community.

  Disgusted with the direction her life had taken, she dropped against the Spanish leather sofa cushions with a plop. Tears misted behind her lids, and she rubbed at them until her skin stung.

  She opened the last bottle.

  “When did I stop living?” She poured.

  What a silly question. Of course.

  When Ricky died.

  CHAPTER 34

  WITH THE ANNIVERSARY OF Roe V. Wade just days away, Rochelle had picked late-term abortion as one of Tuesday’s sizzling topics. After the last two calls, she thought twice about her choice. She’d expected controversy but not so much outright venom. Opinions are opinions, but a few listeners took that to mean they could spout outright hatred. Ah well, another day, more people who thought their feelings were the only ones.

  She appreciated feelings; she loved facts.

  “I’ll take the next caller. Do you have something to share … Jennifer from Warren?”

  “What kind of heartless hypocrite are you?”

  “I beg your pardon?” She looked through the window at her sound engineer and Donna, motioning for them to be ready to dump the call if language should ratchet up.

  “What makes you Bible-thumpers think you have the right to force everyone else to your way of thinking? For you to sit on your high horse telling young women who have been caught in a tragic situation that they have no right to change their circumstances, you should be ashamed. I’m a Christian and a nurse, and I care plenty for these girls. So I’m happy I work at the clinic where we can fix lives that have been ruined by incest and rape.”

  Rochelle understood the sincere emotions behind this topic, and after all, there were girls who suffered at the hands of male authority figures. Her heart broke for them but it broke for the babies as well. And after what nearly happened to her? Well…

  The caller reiterated her position. “You think because you have a public forum you can twist and turn the system in any direction you choose. These girls don’t deserve to suffer the rest of their lives for one stupid mistake.”

  “I’m not just concerned with a short-term fix. The long-t
erm effects are devastating. And I don’t need to explain to you, a nurse, that there are risks for each one of these women. And charlatans out there who would harm them, take advantage of their circumstances.”

  “I work for a well-established clinic. Everyone with impeccable credentials.”

  “That’s not always the case, Jennifer. I’m talking about long-term effects that emotionally plague women years after they’ve made this decision. And those who abuse the policies of the individual states by bending the laws. I have no doubt you’ve heard of the recent sentence handed down to—”

  “From talk show host to medical expert.”

  “I didn’t say I’m an expert in the field, but—”

  “About a month ago, you told us about an attack on you in late November. Do you really think we believe you have warm fuzzies for the guy? And you’ve moved on? All I can say is, maybe if you were pregnant from rape, you’d have a different point of view about abortion. What goes around, comes around. Karma, baby. Karma.”

  Rochelle’s hands shook, and she closed her eyes. What woman said that to another?

  “Do you want to continue discussing the topic, Jennifer?”

  “You’re such a know-it-all. You’re only against it as long as it doesn’t affect you, right?”

  Rochelle took a second to breathe deeply. Don’t let her get to you.

  “Well?”

  “Jennifer, I enjoy hearing other folks’ ideas. I don’t have to agree with you, but I’ll lay out the facts, let you give me your evidence to the contrary if you choose. But if all you can do is argue with attacks instead of facts, we’re done.”

  “Oh, Miss High and Mighty. Don’t forget paybacks, baby. That sucks.”

  “And with that, we’ll take a commercial break.”

  Donna opened the door to the sound room and Rochelle collapsed against the desk with a thunk. All she could do was stare at her producer and shake her head.

  “Are you all right, Rochelle?”

  “You don’t pay me enough for this kind of abuse. What kind of person wishes rape on another human being?”

  #

  Rochelle groaned. This day was only getting better and better.

  The light-bar across the top of the vehicle flashed too close behind her. She ran through a mental checklist of possibilities: no speeding, didn’t make an illegal turn, didn’t run over any little old ladies. Maybe a taillight burned out.

  She glanced back to see if he was local St. Clair Police, but the spotlight’s brightness blinded her.

  She pulled to the side.

  Great.

  Rolling down the window a few inches, she smiled her best please don’t give me a ticket. I’m an adorable helpless female. It was worth a try.

  A huge flashlight shined directly in her eyes. “Your license and registration please.”

  “What did I do? I’m sure I wasn’t speeding.”

  “Just hand me the paperwork.”

  Wonderful, Officer Friendly.

  She reached across her lap and dove for her purse all the time trying to remember whether St. Clair wore brown or black uniforms.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  “I’m getting my license like you asked.” She handed him her license and registration as the brilliance continued to blind her. “Could you please tell me why you stopped me?”

  He took his time, went back to his vehicle, and she rubbernecked to see. His light was directed straight at her.

  She settled back and waited.

  Footsteps.

  “Here you go.” He passed her paperwork back through the window.

  She swiveled in her seat to return them when she felt metal—the huge flashlight pressed into her neck, pushing her sideways against the headrest. She couldn’t scream; she could barely breathe. It tightened.

  “If you wanna keep that pretty little head on your shoulders, don’t move. Councilman Bennett said to tell you to back off. No more stories, no more harassment. And, Rochelle, he doesn’t make idle threats.”

  He called her by her first name?

  Rochelle’s chest pounded against the seatbelt, but she did as she was told and remained with her back to him. “He can’t—” She choked on the words as she heard another car slow next to them. Could she call out?

  “I strongly suggest you pay attention.”

  The officer sounded young. But apparently old enough to be on Bennett’s payroll.

  He leaned forward, swore in her ear. “If you don’t shut your mouth on that show of yours, your friends at the station will be doing an entirely different kind of show about the unfortunate accident of a colleague. Bank on it.” He whispered, “Do not turn around. Do not!”

  CHAPTER 35

  LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER Ed returned to his place from two road games in Canada, he popped out his cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. Half a dozen texts from Alicia. She wasn’t getting it. In all fairness, he had led her on too long; these texts were his own fault.

  Nothing from Rochelle. He listened a second time to the voicemail from Brett about her show and groaned. Then, the text message from John Jr.

  Jaw tight and fingers like spear tips ready to strike, he punched in her number. Stay calm. “Hey. You still awake?”

  “I’m pretty sure.”

  No welcoming sound in her voice.

  “It’s late, Ed.”

  Yes, it was. “I know. I wanted to hear your voice. Know you were okay. Are you okay?”

  “I’ll get by.”

  “I heard about the show. More importantly, John told me about the cop.”

  “If he even was an officer. John checked. Bennett’s back in jail for violating his bond. I guess he didn’t believe associating with certain criminal elements was a no-no. But John’s pretty sure he had nothing to do with my being stopped. Which means … it must have been him again.” Her groan filled in all the gaps. “Still, John shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  “Are you kidding me? You get threatened and you think it was a bother? And what about that caller? Doesn’t the switchboard screen people who phone in before allowing the callers air time?” At least, that was how he thought it should be handled. He leaned against the cushion and slipped off his shoes to stop the cramp in his foot.

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Rather not talk about what happened, or not talk to me?”

  “Both.”

  “That hurts.”

  “I have this obsession to stand on my own two feet. Regaining control in my life has become my top priority. And sobbing on your shoulder because a caller tried to bully me out of my opinion won’t strengthen that independence. I reported the problem with the officer to the police. They’re on it. In fact, they’ll be checking my phone.”

  “But why does that mean pushing me away?” He huffed a groan. “So they don’t screen callers?”

  “How could they? Callers say whatever they want to get on. Besides, that woman had as much right to voice her opinion as anyone else. That’s the crux of my show. Her outright hate of my having an opinion different from hers just surprised me. She as much as said I should have been raped. What kind of person says that?”

  “A very sick one.” Sick enough to stalk Rochelle and want to see her harmed one way or the other?

  “I had Donna there. But I feel bad everyone else had to listen in.”

  Plenty of people had heard the segment, according to Brett’s voice mail. But Ed’s main concern was to calm Rochelle, not bring up the obvious. “You and I are both intelligent enough to realize there are people in the world who have to win at all costs.”

  “In my head, I know you’re right, and while I try to leave work at work, her words still got under my skin.”

  He understood hate. He and Grabey had long been rivals. “Rochelle. People like that don’t deserve your defense.” He had met plenty of lousy people in his career. “They don’t have principles.” From agents to players who took the game beyond the
realm of competition. Anything to get a promotional contract.

  “Unprincipled people are the ones who need us the most. They don’t usually forgive themselves and that’s why they act out to others.” Her sigh and her straightforward talk fed straight to his heart.

  “You’re a bigger person than I am.”

  “I saw Dr. Reinholdt.” He recognized her sleight of hand.

  Determined to be cautious and not scare her off, he hesitated. “And … is that good or bad?” He expected to hear the same positive ravings he had heard from Donna and John for nine long months.

  “Well, there’s an eccentricity about him. You should be there when he launches into his spiel. Every now and then he speaks like a character from a Jane Austen novel. ‘How do you do, my dear? So good of you to grace our establishment.’ Actually, beyond eccentric. Yet, his approach is extraordinary, and I can’t help but think he’s on the edge of something remarkable. The station is drooling over the human interest aspect,” she said. “I’d tell you some of the impressive patients there, but I’m not allowed.”

  “Surely no one there would—”

  “No, no, no. I didn’t mean to imply that. But some pretty famous folks. The facility is primo. I’ve not seen anything like it, ever.”

  Ed detected more than fatigue. “What’s really bothering you, Rochelle? You said you’ve been faced with weird characters before. Is it because you’re going to be spending a lot of time with the doc?”

  “I’m feeling sorry for myself. Nothing to do with Dr. Reinholdt. I wouldn’t do this piece if I weren’t convinced it had merit.” She paused and he didn’t interject. “I was going through some old papers and came across Danny’s death certificate. I’m still not sure how I ended up with part of the inheritance.”

  “Without any close family, listing you as next of kin probably felt like the most logical thing for him to do. According to stories I’ve heard, he gave you plenty of grief when he was alive. Accept that he finally showed some character toward you.”

 

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