by Dianne Drake
“Times were different then, Caleb. We weren’t aware that being the victim of a bully could have such a bad effect.”
“And in my day, it got me thrown in jail for a year. The army saved me, Henry. When no one else was there for me, I did the only thing I could think to do to give myself a chance at a decent future, and I would have stayed a soldier if I hadn’t been wounded, because that’s where I finally found myself and came to terms with the idea that I wasn’t the one who caused the problem. Believe me, I spent a lot of time thinking I was. Unfortunately, Leanne hasn’t come to terms with the fact that she was the one. And while I know she’s not that person any longer, I really do have the right to know why. What happened? Was it me, was it her? What was it, Henry? What do I have to look out for with Matthew?”
“Talk her again, Caleb. And keep talking until she remembers it or admits it. If she bullied you, and you both seem to think she did, there’s a reason and, yes, you do have the right to know. But don’t hide behind Matthew as your excuse. You’re the one who needs to know. It’s about you, not your son. So, make it right with Leanne. And keep talking. Because you’re never going to let yourself get truly settled here if you don’t. And that’s where Matthew will be affected. Not in what happened to you, but in how you’re dealing with it right now.”
“Talk to me about what?” Leanne asked, approaching the table. “How bad I was when I was a kid? How I ruined lives? I think I already know that.”
Caleb rose to his feet and pulled out a chair for her, but she refused to sit. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to just blurt it out like I did.”
“What hurts, Caleb, is knowing that I hurt you. I’ve called a couple of old friends who said, yes, I was terrible to you. They told me a few things...not much. It’s like I was so bad they can’t talk about it. And since you won’t...” She glanced over at her dad, who was trying to slip away unnoticed, then turned back to Caleb. “I need help. That’s all I can think of. I need help.”
“Help, as in?” Caleb said, noting that Henry had finally made his exit.
“That’s just it. I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”
She looked so scared, so upset standing there, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. He really wanted to pull her into his arms, to hold her, to comfort her. But what he wanted and what he knew he should do were two different things. He was concerned, though, because for the first time he was beginning to believe she really didn’t remember what had happened, that it wasn’t a case of avoiding or rewriting it, as he’d thought she was doing. She was too upset, too genuinely upset to be doing that. “Have you had some kind of neurological injury in the past?” he asked.
She laughed bitterly. “That would be the simple way to explain it, but no. I haven’t. And I’m really confused, Caleb,” she confessed. “So much so I’m not even sure I should be practicing medicine right now. It kills me thinking that I could have hurt you...or others. I’m not like that, don’t want to be like that. And I’m...” She swatted at a tear slipping down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “So sorry.”
Leanne turned and ran out the cafeteria door, while Caleb stood there and watched her. It didn’t add up. Nothing about this added up.
Sighing, he grabbed his paper cup, still half-full of coffee, albeit now lukewarm instead of hot, and headed to his office, and his computer. There was definitely something going on with Leanne, and he wondered...
* * *
“We need to talk,” Caleb said, poking his head in through Henry’s office doorway. He was exhausted this morning, after pulling an all-nighter, doing research. But what’d he’d found—well worth the effort, he hoped.
Leanne spun around in her dad’s chair to face him. “About what?”
She looked so totally defeated, so totally devastated, it broke his heart. “About you. About us.”
“There is no us, Caleb. How could there be?”
“That’s the question I keep asking myself, to be honest. But I like you, Leanne. The you who exists now. The you who existed when we were young. Not the interim you, though, during those few teenaged years. Which is what I want to talk to you about.”
She sighed, and waved limply at the seat across the desk from her. “Then talk. What else is left? I took myself off active duty this morning, asked Jack Hanson if he’d be willing to come to Marrell and cover for me for the rest of the time I intended on being here. Then I resigned my position back in Seattle because I can’t practice the way I am. So, sure, talk. I’ve got all the time in the world to listen.”
“Are you sure you need to do all that? To go from being so active to nothing...that’s what happened to me when I was wounded, and it will drive you crazy.”
“Well, since I’m already half-crazy...”
“Maybe not,” he said. “I’ll admit, I’d wondered if you were playing some kind of game with me, or just trying to avoid something that’s not pleasant to talk about...and then when you said you didn’t remember what you’d done to me, well, let’s just say I didn’t buy into any of that either.”
“Well, actually, I do remember some of it, Caleb. The part where you’re being handcuffed and put in the back of the police car. And...” She shut her eyes, rubbed her forehead. “The look you gave me from the car window as they were taking you away. I’ve always remembered that look, Caleb. You were so...lost. Frightened. And hurt. Most of all, I remember you being hurt.”
“I’d been hurt for a long time,” he said, settling back into the chair. “But your dad said something to me yesterday that actually made sense. When I came back to Marrell and you were here, my defenses were raised. I’ll admit that. But I kept telling myself it was because of Matthew. I thought I was angry that you wouldn’t admit what you’d done, or simply wanted to avoid it, because I was trying to protect Matthew from having the same thing happen to him. But that’s not the case, and your dad made me see that. I want to know, because I have a right to know. It’s about me. Not my son. I’m putting him in a school where that won’t happen to him, and I can’t use him as my excuse. I need to know because I need to know.”
“And I can’t tell you. So, where does that get us?” She spun back around to face the window.
“I think it gets us to a place called childhood traumatic amnesia.”
She didn’t turn back to face him. “I already told you I didn’t have a head injury, so how could I have amnesia?”
“Traumatic amnesia, Leanne. Traumatic. It doesn’t come from an injury necessarily.”
“And it doesn’t manifest in adults, so what’s your point?”
“The point is, maybe this is the place where the hero gets to rescue the damsel in distress.”
Finally, she did turn around to face him. “Why do you even care? I mean, what’s in it for you?”
The expression her face wasn’t anger, though. It was futility, hopelessness. Heartbreak.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe a friend. Maybe more?”
“More? With someone who brutalized you? You don’t want that, Caleb. How could you?”
That was the question for which he didn’t have an answer. Maybe he was reaching back to the Leanne he’d known when they’d been young, or reaching out to the one she was now. Maybe he was even reaching for the one she’d been even when she’d bullied him. Because when it came to Leanne Sinclair, he’d never had a clear head. Not back then, not now. And there was nothing to hide behind with that reality. No way to account for it. No way to understand it. He’d always had feelings. The heart did what the heart did and sometimes there was no explanation. End of story. “What I want isn’t very clear to me now, Leanne. Like your memory is not very clear to you.”
“Because of this childhood traumatic amnesia.”
“I think so. The chief symptom is you block out certain events that ar
e just too difficult or traumatic to deal with. Sometimes it’s associated with false memories, where you build sort of a fairy-tale story around it to make it better. Sometimes it’s simply amnesia.”
Suddenly, she was interested. It shone in her eyes. “Like post-traumatic stress syndrome?”
“Something like that. But childhood amnesia is, most often, a diagnosis related to a specific incident. Something that caused you to shut down. PTSD can take in a whole gamut of events.”
“But I don’t have a fairy-tale story that makes anything better, Caleb. I don’t have anything.”
“Which brings me back to what I originally said. Childhood traumatic amnesia.”
“Which, like I said, is typical of younger children.”
“Then maybe you’re atypical. Who knows? Whatever the case, I think I’m onto something.” He hoped so. Dearly hoped so.
“Except I was never traumatized. Never subjected to anything harsh or cruel. No one ever hurt me. And I don’t think my dad ignoring me is enough to cause it.”
“Remains to be seen.” The more he thought about it, the more he was positive he was right. Because that would explain so many things. Not that she’d bullied him, but why? To make things right between them, maybe even explore the feelings he was pretty sure he had, and hoped she had, they both needed to know. Then, once that was cleared up, well...he didn’t know what came next but at least there were possibilities.
Chapter Nine
“WHY DO YOU want to do this?” Leanne asked Caleb. “Why do you want to spend the evening with me after what I’ve done to you, because I really don’t even want to spend the evening with myself?” They were strolling along the banks of Miller’s Pond, close to the edge of evening, when the sky was a cross between gold and blue. It was chilly, and she was grateful for the jacket he’d placed over her shoulders. Grateful for the solitude. Grateful he was still talking to her.
“Maybe because you connect me to something I haven’t been connected to in a long, long time.”
“I connect you to a difficult past, Caleb. And whether I’m suffering from this childhood amnesia you mentioned or not, it doesn’t change the fact that, once upon a time, I’d have probably shoved you in the pond rather than walk with you beside it.”
He chuckled, then stepped closer to her when she shivered, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I’m sure you would have.”
“So, why bother with me? You’re a nice guy. Good-looking. Smart.” She reached across her left shoulder with her right hand and took hold of his hand. “Why drag someone up out of your past who hurt you, when you could be moving forward?”
“You think I’m good-looking?” he asked.
She turned to look at him. He was better than good-looking. In fact, he might have been the most handsome man she’d ever known. Beautiful eyes. The most kissable lips... A toned body that proved he treated it with discipline and care. She’d never been attracted to the cowboy-type before. In fact, she’d never had a type. But Caleb...he was different, and her attraction to the physical side of him was so keen she was afraid it would show on her. Her attraction to the deeper man was so much more than that, though, and that’s what scared her as while she could handle the physical, she’d never had to think beyond that. Not with any man. Never had to react beyond that.
And now that’s all she wanted. But couldn’t have because, in the end, could he really ever forgive her? Or trust her? He was being nice now, because that’s who he was, but it would wear off. She was as sure of that as she was unsure of herself. “You grew up well,” she conceded, willing her heart to beat a little slower, her breaths to come a little easier. “Filled out.”
“I was kind of a gawky kid, wasn’t I?”
“You were,” she said, as an image of him returned to her. Always taller than the other boys his age. A good ten pounds lighter than most. Glasses that had always been askew. Hair that had stuck out. “So, what happened that you changed into—well, what you are now?” Trite conversation, when she really wanted to dig deeper. But it was safe, and for now safe was good enough.
“Part of it was the army. It put muscles on me. Some of it was just the growing-up process—I started to care what I looked like. Could afford better clothes. And most of it was looking in the mirror at the odd reflection that looked back. I didn’t like him very much. He was a troubled kid, a bad kid. I didn’t want to be him anymore.”
She pulled away from him, bent down and picked up a rock, a palm-sized flat one, and handed it to him.
“Do you remember that?” he asked. “How I used to come down here and spend hours skipping rocks on the water? I tried to teach you once, and you got impatient because you couldn’t do it. Told me I was a horrible teacher.”
“You were,” she said, pulling his jacket tighter around her. “But in your defense, you were only, what? Seven or eight?”
He adjusted the rock in his hand, cocked back his arm, and gave it a lob into the water, then watched it skip across the surface several times, leaving circular ripples in its wake. “However old I was, I thought I was pretty good. But, then, I was a little distracted.”
“By what?” she asked.
“You. You always distracted me, Leanne. Even when I was that age.”
It should have surprised her, but it didn’t because there were several images of him just being there that were trying to pop through. So many times, when they’d been together, doing just this. Taking a walk. Skipping rocks. Doing nothing yet having fun.
“Chemistry’s chemistry,” he said, smiling. “When you’re young, who knows what it is? Mutual interests, maybe? Then when you’re older it turns into a battle of the hormones. You’re not old enough to be smart about the girl you pick out, so you let your hormones do the talking. At least, that’s the way it is for a lot of guys.”
“And your hormones chose me?” Somehow, she was a little disappointed to hear him say that. She’d really wanted to hear...well, he’d hung around for some other reason. Her intelligence. Her wit. Her compassion. But maybe she’d never shown any of that to Caleb. Maybe he’d never known that side of her existed, he had been so bombarded by hormones.
“You were the prettiest girl in Marrell. I wasn’t the only one with hormones choosing you.” He chuckled. “In some ways, that kind of innocence is nice. You conjure up these fantasies that you’re sure will work out, if only you get the chance...”
“My fantasy was to get out of Marrell. I didn’t want anything connecting me to it, anything that could pull me back to it. So, what was your fantasy?”
“Normalcy, I think. Not to be singled out for being too smart, or picked on for being too geeky. Took me a long time, and a lot of twisted roads to get there, but I did.”
“Which means you’re happy in Marrell?”
“Which means it’s not about the place. I’m not sure I even realized it a few weeks ago when I moved back. But when you love someone more than you love yourself, your fantasy gets tied up in doing everything you can for her or, in my case, him.”
“Personally, I think happiness is overrated,” she said, then walked on ahead, up the trail. Not so much because she wanted to get away from him as she wanted to get away from the conversation. Because, for the first time in her life, she wondered if she’d ever been truly happy anywhere, with anyone, for any reason. She didn’t know, couldn’t remember. Couldn’t pass it off on childhood amnesia either.
“Why?” he called out to her, hurrying to catch up.
“I get restless because I don’t ever get happy,” she said, when he finally caught up to her. “Restless with where I am, with the people I’m with. With life. With love. All of it. I always ask myself—is that all there is? Then I get disappointed when I find out it is.”
He reached out, took hold of her arm and stopped her. Then twisted himself until he was facing her. “You used to tell me I was boring. B
ut I wasn’t, Leanne. I was probably the most active kid in town. Sometimes not active in the right direction, but I was never boring. I think, though, it was you who was boring. I just didn’t realize it at the time because...”
“Of your hormones,” she supplied, smiling.
“They were pretty intense.”
She sighed. “Well, you’re right. I was boring. Predictable, too.”
“You remember that?”
“What I remember is that every day, when I woke up, the boundaries of Marrell seemed a little smaller. And nothing changed except the feeling that I was getting squeezed in. By the town, by my dad, by always being so...alone.” She looked up at him. “I was frustrated and angry and I took it out on you, because you made yourself vulnerable to me. At least, that’s my theory.”
“I was in love with you, if a kid that age can actually be in love. Thinking back, it may have been more about teenaged lust, but at the time... I didn’t know. I just had these crazy feelings that kept me coming back. Can’t explain them, don’t understand them, don’t even want to.”
Leanne looked up at Caleb, brushed his cheek with her hand. “I’m so sorry you did,” she whispered, then turned and ran from him. Because to stay was to start down yet another path in her life. One where she might have wanted what Caleb wanted, yet one she knew would make her restless, as it always had before. And, yes, she did remember that. Vividly.
“Running away doesn’t fix things,” he called out, even though he stood still. Didn’t attempt to go after her. “I did that for a while after I started to understand that my life was forever changed. I couldn’t be a surgeon. Couldn’t be a husband. So, I took Matthew and disappeared for a time. A few months here, a few weeks there. Then I stopped off in Las Vegas, stayed for a while and look where I am now.”
