Three Sisters

by Susan Mallery

  What had changed and when? Had something happened during her parents’ visit to upset him? Had she said something she shouldn’t have?

  She told herself they’d only been seeing each other a month or so. That she wasn’t interested in getting married anytime soon. That she respected Wade for moving at a steady pace. That he wasn’t Matt. But the woman who’d recently been left at the altar in front of all her friends and family found it more difficult to be rational. Was he playing her? Was this a game for him? Had she just started seeing someone exactly like Matt—a guy who would string her along and then dump her in public?

  She pressed a hand to her chest as she felt the muscles tightening. Was it her or was it hot in here? Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

  It’s only a panic attack, she told herself. Or the beginnings of one. She was focusing too much on herself. On a situation that frightened her. She needed a distraction.

  She glanced around the restaurant and saw a college-aged guy with his girlfriend. “Look,” she said, pointing. “Doesn’t he looked like Zac Efron?”

  Carrie turned and squinted. “Not really. Although maybe a little around the eyes. He’s cute.” She turned back to Andi. “Should I tell my dad you like Zac Efron?”

  “He’s kind of young for me, and when he calls I can’t get him off the phone. It’s kind of a pain.”

  Carrie laughed. “I wish that were true.”

  “I don’t. He really is too young for me.”

  “What about Ryan Gosling?”

  “Better. More age-appropriate. What about you? Who is your movie star crush?”

  Andi picked up her soda and took a sip. She was breathing more easily now and able to focus.

  Carrie chatted about the TV and movie stars she liked. Andi joined in as best she could. She would think about the Wade issue later, she promised herself. Figure out if she was overreacting or if he was a jerk. Then she would decide on a course of action. Or maybe swear off men forever. It was certainly the easier path.

  But, as her mother had often told her, life wasn’t meant to be easy. It was meant to be lived.

  * * *

  Deanna picked up the phone and dialed the number. She was shaking and she couldn’t stop. Her hands were raw from the hundreds of washings and she’d had to throw her scrub brush in the outside trash to keep from taking it into the shower again.

  “Dr. Gordon, please,” Deanna said. “This is Mrs. Phillips.”

  “Of course,” the receptionist said. “I think the doctor is between appointments. Let me see if I can catch her.”

  Deanna gripped the receiver as she waited for Andi to come to the phone.

  “Deanna?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “You’re not. What’s wrong? Is it one of the girls?”

  “No, it’s me. I need help. It’s not just the hand-washing. I’m scared.”

  “I know you are. I’m here. What’s going on?”

  “No. I use a brush in the shower. To feel clean.”

  There was a couple of seconds of silence. Deanna figured Andi was smart enough to put the pieces together.

  “Let me get you a name. I’m going to call her and ask her to see you today, then I’ll call you right back. All right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you need me to come be with you?”

  Deanna squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I’ll be okay for a while.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  The phone rang in three. “She’ll see you at two. Here’s her name and address.”

  Deanna wrote down the information. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And don’t be mad, but I called Boston. She’s going to come be with you until your appointment.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I kind of did. I’m worried about you.”

  Deanna fought tears. “You’re being so nice and I’m such a bitch.”

  “You’re not a bitch. You’re dealing with a lot and we all have coping skills that work and don’t work. Talk to the therapist, Deanna. You deserve to feel better than you do right now.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Deanna admitted in a whisper.

  “You don’t have to say anything.”

  * * *

  Boston walked Deanna to her car. “You sure you’re all right? I can come with you.”

  “I can drive myself the eight miles to the therapist,” Deanna said. “She’s right across the bridge. I promise not to steer over the edge between here and there.”

  Boston smiled, then hugged her. “And to think all this time, I never knew you had a sense of humor.”

  “I’m not sure I did, either.”

  Deanna waved, then got in her car. Boston watched her drive away, then turned back to Andi’s house.

  Progress was being made on the mural. She liked how the colors were happy and the animals charming. While it wasn’t work that would win her any new customers, she was proud of what she’d accomplished so far. It nearly made up for the growing sense of unease that accompanied her every waking moment.

  Zeke still hadn’t come home. This was by far the longest they’d spent apart. The longest they hadn’t spoken. She’d taken to sleeping in one of his shirts, so she would feel as if he were with her. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do—wait him out or go talk to him. They’d come so far, she thought. She didn’t know who she was without her husband. Was she really supposed to try to figure it out now?

  She walked into the waiting area and studied the large, bright painting. It filled two walls and narrowed to only a couple of feet high as it trailed down the hallway. She had spent the past couple of days sitting on the floor, painting tiny bug families sitting together, watching TV. Surprises for the toddler set to find as they waited for their appointments.

  “Hey,” Wade said, stepping into the room. “Everything okay?”

  She nodded. “I needed to ask Deanna something.”

  “You’re getting friendly with her. I thought you hated her.”

  “Hate is too strong. I didn’t really know her and I assumed the worst. My bad. How are you?”

  “Good.”

  “You’re seeing a lot of Andi.”

  Her brother-in-law gave a quick look, then glanced away. “Trying to distract me?” he asked.

  “No. Just stating the obvious. She’s great. I like her.”

  He nodded, but there was something about his expression. Something she couldn’t quite read.

  She waited, thinking there would be more, but he was silent. She thought about pointing out that Carrie liked Andi as well, but knew better than to spook him. Men could be emotionally delicate.

  “I’m having a barbecue,” Wade said. “On Saturday. Kind of a neighborhood thing. Your neighborhood, actually. I thought I’d hold it next door. At your place.”

  She wanted to believe this was Zeke’s idea, but knew better. “Tired of your brother sleeping on your couch?”

  “He’s taken the guest room, but yeah, he needs to get back together with his wife. Unless you don’t want him.”

  “I still want him. I’m not the one who left.”

  “He thinks you don’t care anymore.”

  She thought about the long nights alone in their bed and how she ached for him. She thought about how she missed holding him and how he no longer needed her.

  “I’m not the one who changed.”

  Wade shifted aw
kwardly. “Boston, I...”

  She held up her hand. “I’ll take pity on you and just say yes, we can have a barbecue. What time?”

  “Three?”

  “Great. Did you invite anyone else, or should I do that, too? So your plan is less obvious.”

  “If you could ask some people, that would be great.”

  “Food?”

  “I can bring burgers and stuff.”

  “Buns?”

  “I’ll bring buns.”

  She knew she would have to provide everything else. Still, she didn’t mind. Not if this gave her a chance to spend time with Zeke. They could talk and she would explain that she needed him here.

  “Saturday at three,” she said. “It’ll be fun.”

  * * *

  Darrelyn was in her forties, with dark hair and sympathetic eyes. She led Deanna to a comfortable sofa in a small office.

  “How can I help you?” she asked when Deanna was seated.

  Deanna drew in a breath. “I’m not sure. I can’t go on the way I am. It’s too hard.” She felt herself shaking, but still held out her hands. They were chapped and raw from the frequent washings.

  Slowly, shamefully, she rolled up her sleeves to expose the scabs on her arms—proof of her use of the scrub brush.

  “I threw it out,” she whispered.

  “The brush?”

  Deanna nodded. “Today. It’s so hard. I hate myself for doing it, but it also makes me feel better. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  “It does. Do you know why you feel compelled to wash your hands so much?”

  Deanna nodded. “Some of it is from my mom and some is from my aunt and uncle. My mom was an alcoholic. She was mean and difficult. The house was so dirty. I hated that. When I was little she used to lock me in the closet. I remember the smell of it and how dark it was. I remember things crawling on me.”

  The memories tumbled out, one after the other. Darrelyn listened without speaking, taking occasional notes. Deanna talked about her aunt and uncle, how she was finally taken away but had to promise to be perfect. How hard that was. How she was afraid all the time. Afraid of being sent back. Afraid of being turned out onto the street.

  “I wanted to be perfect so they would love me,” she whispered. “Then when I married Colin, I wanted to be perfect to keep him. But being perfect is what drove him away and I’ve lost my children, as well. At least I’ve lost Madison. I might have a chance with the younger ones. I don’t know.”

  She reached for the box of tissues. “I never wanted to be like this and I don’t know how to stop. The only time I feel safe is when I control my world. I know in my head I don’t really have control, but it feels like it and then I can’t stop.”

  She started to cry. After wiping away her tears, she glanced at the woman sitting across from her. “Is it hopeless?”

  Darrelyn gave her a gentle smile. “You are so brave, Deanna. So strong. I’m very impressed.”

  Deanna stared at her. “Excuse me? How can you say that? What about what I’ve done to my children? To my husband? He hates me. No, I wish he hated me. He feels nothing.”

  “If he felt nothing, he would have left a long time ago.” Darrelyn leaned toward her. “Look at you. Look at where you started. Have you ever once hit your children?”

  “What?” She stiffened. “Of course not. I would never do that to them.”

  “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to break the cycle of violence? You were beaten so hard your mother broke bones, yet you’ve never once hit your children. You turn any frustration on yourself rather than risk hurting them. Your need to control your world is because you’re afraid of what you are inside. Of the emotions you feel. That’s why you hold on so tight.”

  Deanna crushed the tissues in her hand. “It can’t be that simple.”

  “It can, but it’s not simple. You’re going to have to figure out how to believe in yourself, and that’s not easy. You’re going to have to trust your children and your husband. You’re going to have to break a lifetime of patterns. You’re going to have to believe the world will keep on turning, without your help. It’s a long road, but look how far you’ve come.”

  She flushed. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I hope you can come to see that’s not true.”

  “So you can help me?”

  Darrelyn smiled at her. “Yes. I don’t usually say this to people, but I feel it’s important for you to know. You’re not anywhere near my most damaged client. You need a little tweaking. That’s all.”

  Deanna thought about the compulsive need to wash her hands, of the blood running down the shower drain. “You need to work on your definitions.”

  Darrelyn laughed. “You’ll see what I mean in a few short weeks. Now let’s talk about a plan. I’m going to recommend a medication. You won’t need to take it for long and we’ll start at the lowest dose, but it will help with the OCD. Then you and I can come up with a plan to let you safely experiment with trusting the people around you. You’ll start to give up control, a bit at a time. We’ll role-play here.”

  “Are you any good at being the difficult twelve-year-old?”

  “It’s my specialty. What do you think? There’s lots of work to be done, but you’ve already come so far.”

  “I want to do this,” Deanna told her. “I want to be normal.”

  “Normal is highly overrated,” Darrelyn said with a grin. “I’m just saying.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ANDI HAD BEEN doing a good job of avoiding Wade. She wasn’t sure if that was something she should be proud of or not, but it was how she’d decided to handle the situation. Unfortunately Saturday morning, she literally ran into him.

  She was coming up the stairs, he was going down and they collided. He reached for her with one hand and grabbed her overflowing bag of groceries with the other.

  “You okay?” he asked, steadying her.

  Just the feel of his fingers on her skin made her insides get all gooey. She wanted to melt into him, kiss him senseless, then lead him into her bedroom. Common sense and the crew working in her house stopped her. Sadly, more the latter than the former, but whatever worked.

  “I’m fine,” she murmured. “Thanks for the rescue.”

  He took the bag from her and started up the stairs. “Food for the barbecue?”

  “I’m making potato salad. It’s about all I can manage in my makeshift kitchen. I’ll boil the potatoes in batches. I have an old family recipe.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  The words sounded right, but he wouldn’t completely meet her eyes. Even as they were forced to walk close together in the narrow stairwell, she had a feeling he wanted to put more distance between them.

  They reached the third floor. She followed him into the kitchen. He put the bag on the table, then took a step back.

  “I haven’t seen you lately,” he said, stopping in the doorway.

  She couldn’t look at him without wanting him, but where a couple of days ago she would simply have walked up and slid into his arms, right now she couldn’t. Not only didn’t she want to feel the first stirrings of passion or the way her body fit so well against his; she wasn’t sure how he would react. Something had changed between them. Something had gone wrong.

  She supposed the right thing to do was to ask. To find out and then fix the problem. Only what if she couldn’t? What if she’d lost Wade before she had the chance to really get to know
him? Not mentioning there was a problem was so much easier than facing things head-on. Only look where that had gotten her with Matt.

  Honestly, she told herself. She could handle whatever he had to say.

  She studied him—took in the handsome lines of his face, the steadiness in his eyes. “We have to talk about it.”

  His expression went completely blank. “What do you mean?”

  “What’s going on between us. Or not going on. You told Carrie not to get attached. She mentioned it when we were shopping together the other day.” Andi held up a hand. “Please don’t tell her I told you. I don’t want her getting in trouble.”

  “I won’t say anything.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What would you have preferred I said to her? She likes you. She sees you a lot because she’s always with Madison.”

  “So? She’s a smart kid. She knows adults date and sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn’t. But to tell her not to get attached...” She moved to the other side of the table, needing distance and maybe something physical between them. “You’re assuming this is going nowhere. I don’t think I want that.”

  “Neither of us knows what’s going to happen. It’s been two months, Andi. We’re still figuring things out. Why are you so upset?”

  Because Carrie had admitted her father wasn’t getting married. Because she felt herself falling for him and worried that she was once again putting her heart in the hands of a man who would abandon her.

  “I was surprised,” she said instead. “I thought we had potential. Obviously you don’t. I’m going to have to figure out if I’m willing to be in a ‘sex only’ relationship.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what’s happening here. You know that. Carrie’s my kid. I have to protect her.”

  “I think the person you’re protecting is yourself. You’ve pulled back. What happened to change things?”

  He looked startled, as if she’d stumbled onto the truth. Which meant she probably had. But what truth? Why would he need to protect himself about her? She wasn’t dangerous. She hadn’t done anything that should worry him.