“I doubt you can understand this, but getting better, leaving this house, seems to mean more to other people right now than it does to me. I feel safe here. I love being with Sarah’s kids. People come and go all the time, and that’s what matters. I’m not alone or lonely.”
“There must have been things you enjoyed before the panic attacks started,” he protested. “Don’t you miss at least some of them?”
Raylene thought about it. She wondered if maybe this whole cycle of fear and panic hadn’t started even while she’d been married. It wasn’t that her home had been a safe haven. Far from it, in fact. But in it, she had been free of the speculation that would have spread had people in her social circle ever spotted her with the kind of bruises that had been inflicted too many times to count.
Back then she’d lived a solitary life in many ways, living for quiet moments in the garden, where she’d nurtured her fragile plants the way she’d longed for someone to nurture her. Thinking about that brought on an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.
“I miss my garden,” she said softly, closing her eyes as she remembered it—purple, white and magenta azaleas in spring, a sea of tulips, then hollyhocks, summer phlox, golden lilies, shaded beds of impatiens and a tinkling waterfall amid a fragrant collection of rosebushes.
“Planting flowers, watching the yard fill with color, even pulling the weeds. The doggone honeysuckle nearly drove me mad, but it smelled so sweet, I even loved that. And I loved the way the sun felt on my shoulders.”
In the year before she’d finally ended her marriage, she’d stopped gardening. Even now she shuddered at the memory of the rampage her husband had gone on, destroying all her hard work, leaving the rosebushes ruined, the flowers wilted and dying in a chaotic heap before he was done. In some ways, his savage attack on her garden had hurt as much as any of the physical attacks she’d endured.
Even after all this time tears filled her eyes at the memory. Suddenly she felt a warm, solid hand covering hers.
“I’m sorry,” Carter said, his expression apologetic. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. This is really none of my business.”
She forced a smile. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
She said the words, maybe even managed to sound convincing, but the truth was, she was anything but fine. The memories had touched a place deep inside that she’d almost buried and left her filled with longing.
The minute Carter Rollins left, she sank down on the sofa to await the arrival of Dr. McDaniels, relieved that she’d finally made the call, even as she was dreading what the psychologist might tell her.
Because if Carter Rollins had done nothing else with his well-timed visit and probing questions, he’d reminded her that there was a life outside these four walls—even if only as far as the backyard—that truly might be worth fighting for.
4
Dr. McDaniels was a thin woman in her fifties with a hint of gray threading through her short dark hair. She had the kind of reassuring smile that invited confidences and a warmth in her eyes that suggested compassion. Though Raylene had only crossed paths with her casually years ago during Annie’s hospitalization, she immediately felt comfortable with her.
“Thank you for agreeing to come here,” Raylene said as she led the way into the living room. “The sitter’s taken the kids to the park, so we won’t be interrupted.”
“Under the circumstances, I’m happy to come here,” Dr. McDaniels said. “Hopefully we can figure out what’s going on and determine the right treatment. If we can accomplish that, it won’t be long before you can come to me.”
“I don’t know,” Raylene said skeptically. “I haven’t left this house in a very long time.”
“How long?”
“I first moved in here right after I left Charleston. Back then, I could at least sit out back in the evening, but eventually even that got to be too much. I suppose it’s been a year or more since I’ve left at all.”
“Have you tried?”
Raylene shook her head. “Once I was back in Serenity and inside this house, it was like I’d used up every bit of bravery I had. I saw this as my safe haven. Thankfully I didn’t have to go back for my husband’s sentencing. He’d pleaded no contest once the D.A. showed him my deposition, along with the medical records that documented how many times I’d been to various emergency rooms, plus the condition I was in the night I lost my baby. Though the prosecutor opted not to charge him in the baby’s death, Paul didn’t want the whole messy incident coming out in court and causing an even bigger scandal for his family. The plea bargain lessened his sentence, as well.”
There was no visible reaction on the doctor’s face as Raylene reported the abuse that had driven her home to Serenity. “How long were you married?” she asked.
“Too long,” Raylene said fervently.
“And you were abused throughout the marriage?”
Humiliated, Raylene nodded. “It was mostly verbal at first, temper tantrums from the stress he was under as an intern.”
“And you thought it was your fault for triggering these bursts of anger,” the psychologist said.
Something in her matter-of-fact approach and her obvious understanding made Raylene feel less ashamed. “You’ve heard this before,” she guessed.
“Too many times,” Dr. McDaniels said. “You do know it wasn’t your fault.”
“I do now. I think I even understood that on an intellectual level back then, but when the man you love keeps hammering it home that you’re responsible if he gets angry, on some level you start to think it must be true. I was too young—barely eighteen when we married—to know better.”
“Did you consider leaving him?”
“I did leave once. I went to my mother and told her what was happening. She thought I was exaggerating. She convinced me to go back and work on my marriage, on making Paul happy. She honestly believed, I think, that I must have been doing something wrong for him to act that way.”
“How’d that make you feel?”
Tears streamed down Raylene’s face at the memory of walking away from her parents’ house that day, her suitcase in hand, what she’d seen as her only hope for an escape dashed. “Alone,” she said at once. “I’d never felt more alone in my life.”
“Couldn’t you have called someone else, Sarah or Annie, perhaps?”
“I’d lost touch with them, and I was too embarrassed, anyway. I hadn’t made any real friends in Charleston. Most were the wives of Paul’s friends, and I didn’t dare go to them.”
“So you were scared and isolated,” the psychologist concluded.
“Pretty much.”
“What finally changed to get you out of the house for good?”
Raylene swallowed hard. “We fought,” she said, not wanting to remember.
“But you’d fought before.”
“This was worse. I…was pregnant. Just a couple of months along.” Paul hadn’t been happy about the baby, but she had been. She’d wanted someone she could love unconditionally, someone to protect the way no one had protected her. In a way, she’d convinced herself that the baby would give her the strength to leave. Ironically, that’s exactly what had happened, though not in the way she’d envisioned.
Raylene buried her face in her hands and wept as she thought about that night, about the punches deliberately aimed at her stomach, the blows that had brought on a miscarriage days later. Paul hadn’t wanted her to go to the emergency room when the bleeding started, but for once she’d defied him, threatening to run screaming from the house if he didn’t let her go quietly. Naturally the threat of exposure in his own neighborhood had given him pause.
She hadn’t gone to the hospital where Paul had privileges. She’d feared his associates would help Paul to cover up the abuse. Instead, she went across town. The doctors there had been horrified. They’d known at a glance what had happened and taken enough pictures to guarantee that Paul would be convicted of a crime, even though sentencing guidelines for a first offense, e
ven of aggravated felony abuse, were next to nothing.
When she’d declared she was leaving him, two doctors at the hospital had physically restrained Paul to keep him from following her. The moment they’d released her, she’d driven straight to Serenity and walked into The Corner Spa to see Annie.
“You’d been living in Charleston?” Dr. McDaniels said, glancing at her notes. “Is that right?”
Raylene nodded.
“How did you get over here? Did you drive yourself?”
She nodded. “I think I was in a state of shock. I barely remember making it to The Corner Spa. Then Annie brought me here.”
“And you literally haven’t left since?”
“I tried a couple of times. It was horrible. I’d get to the car and start shaking so badly that Sarah and Annie practically had to carry me back inside.”
“What do you think is going to happen if you leave the house?”
“I know it’s irrational since my ex-husband is still in jail, but I think he’s going to be there, waiting. I tell myself over and over that there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore, but I still can’t take that next step. I always thought I was pretty strong, but this has me beat.”
“Why haven’t you asked for help before?”
“I guess I felt ashamed because I couldn’t conquer this on my own. Like I said, I knew my reaction was irrational, but the fear was there just the same.” She took a deep breath, then admitted what she’d never told Sarah or Annie. “And I think I was punishing myself.”
“Because you hadn’t protected your baby?” Dr. McDaniels said at once.
Raylene nodded.
“If you can see that much, then you’ve made more progress than you realize. You understand the underlying causes of your problem. Now we just have to get busy and see what works so we can fix it.”
She said it so optimistically that Raylene took heart. “You make it sound so simple.”
“I didn’t say it was going to be simple or easy,” Dr. McDaniels cautioned. “There could be a lot of trial and error and a lot of setbacks before we get it right. Have you tried any medications?”
“None. I thought I could figure it out, you know, with some kind of mind-over-matter thing.”
“But you weren’t figuring it out.”
“I gave up,” she admitted. “I felt safe here.”
“And now? What’s changed?”
“I told you on the phone about letting Tommy slip away from the house. Not being able to go after him was the final straw. Even though Sarah and Travis said they understood and forgave me, I haven’t been able to shake the image of what could have happened.”
“So, you want to change to protect the kids?”
Raylene heard a faint hint of criticism in the question. “You think I should want it for myself.”
“Yes, I do,” Dr. McDaniels said, though not unkindly. “Despite what your ex-husband tried to make you believe, you deserve to have a full life. You have to want that for yourself. I won’t kid you, you’re not going to conquer this overnight. You’ll need a powerful motivation to deal with all the setbacks that might happen along the way.”
“Do you think the medication will help?”
“It may. I’ll consult with your physician—”
“I don’t have one here,” Raylene told her.
“Then I’ll call a colleague of mine. We’ll give medication a try. Even so, I have to be realistic. I can’t promise you a quick fix, Raylene, not to correct a pattern that’s gone on this long. Panic disorder can be complicated, especially when the fear is grounded in a traumatic incident. In your case, it’s not even one incident, but years of living in fear.”
Even though she’d expected that, Raylene felt a fresh batch of tears welling up. On some level she’d hoped Dr. McDaniels could snap her fingers, give her a few pills and the whole problem would vanish. She’d be able to live a normal life again.
“What if nothing works?” she asked, swiping angrily at the tears. It was as if she’d had a fresh start dangled in front of her then snatched away. Even though she told herself that fighting to get better was important, no matter how long it took, she’d obviously hoped for a miracle.
“Don’t be discouraged,” the psychologist said, correctly gauging her mood. “Something will work. I’m not a quitter, and something tells me you aren’t, either.”
“I don’t know how you can say that. I gave up a long time ago.”
“No, you didn’t seek help, and now you have. It’s always better late than never.” She pulled out her cell phone and made a call, apparently to the colleague she’d mentioned. After consulting for a couple of minutes, she nodded and thanked him. “He’s going to call a prescription in to Wharton’s. Someone will deliver it this afternoon. It’s an anti-anxiety medication, a relatively mild dose. We’ll give it a couple of days, then I’ll come back and we’ll try a few experiments.”
Raylene regarded her with suspicion. “Experiments?”
“See if we can get you down those front steps. If you can, so much the better. If you can’t, I’ll have an even better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
Raylene couldn’t imagine a drug on earth powerful enough to accomplish that. “I don’t know—” she began, only to have the doctor cut her off.
“It’s just the beginning, Raylene. We’ll pray for an instant cure, but we’ll work however long it takes to make it happen. The good news is that we know what’s behind the fear. For some people we don’t even have that as a starting point.”
“Okay, then,” Raylene said, her spirits bolstered slightly by the doctor’s quiet confidence.
Dr. McDaniels gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll say it again, as often as you need to hear it—don’t be discouraged. Every recovery starts with a single step. Just look at Annie and how well she’s doing these days, then think about where we began with her. Today, you’ve taken your first step. On Friday, you’ll take your next one.” She consulted her appointment book. “Is this same time okay for you?”
“It’s fine.” Raylene chuckled. “It’s not as if I’m going anywhere.”
“But you will be,” Dr. McDaniels said. “I promise.”
When she was gone, Raylene stared after her, surprised by the sensation spreading through her. It felt a lot like hope.
She hadn’t felt anything like it since the day she’d shown up in Annie’s office and her friend had told her everything was going to be okay. After years of distrusting the person closest to her, it had been a wonder to finally believe in someone again.
Walter had his notes from the day’s sales calls spread out on a table at Rosalina’s. A half-eaten pepperoni pizza, which he’d pay for with indigestion in a couple of hours, was pushed to one side, and his second beer sat on the table untouched. He didn’t even know why he’d ordered it beyond wanting an excuse not to head back to his room at the Serenity Inn just yet.
When a shadow fell across the table, he glanced up expecting to see the waitress with his check. Instead, he found a woman wearing a halter top, short shorts and a friendly grin. She didn’t wait for an invitation, but slid into the booth opposite him.
“You’re Walter Price, right?” she said.
“I am.”
“Raylene nailed the description,” she said, looking impressed. “For a woman who doesn’t get out, she sure does know the hottest men in town.”
Walter held back a sigh of resignation. “You must be Rory Sue Lewis.”
She looked surprised. “How’d you know?”
“Raylene mentioned you. I figured sooner or later you’d turn up, whether I came looking for you or not.”
“Yeah, she’s matchmaking,” Rory Sue said without a hint of dismay. “But she also said you might be looking for a house or a condo. I could probably live without the meddling, but I never turn my back on a solid real estate lead. That’s one thing I learned from my mom.” She studied him intently. “So, are you? Looking for some property, I mean?”
&nb
sp; “First tell me how you knew I’d be here tonight. I assume this isn’t a chance encounter.”
“Raylene said you always eat either here or at Wharton’s around six-thirty. Since I was in the mood for pizza myself, I started here.”
Walter chuckled at Raylene’s audacity in setting this up without clearing it with him, and in her apt description of Rory Sue’s methodology. “Okay, yes, I’d like to find a place to buy. I don’t have time to do a lot of looking, but if the right thing came along, I’d be interested,” he admitted. “Did she explain that I’m waiting for a deal to come through on my house in Alabama?”
“She filled me in. We can work around that. If you can spare a few minutes now to tell me what you’d like, I’ll line up the perfect places and have you all moved in by this time next month.” She eyed the remaining pizza. “Hey, are you going to eat the rest of this?”
“Help yourself.” He beckoned the waitress, then asked Rory Sue, “What would you like to drink?”
“A diet cola will do,” she said, already biting into the first slice of pizza. She sighed with undisguised pleasure. “I only allow myself to eat this once a month. It’s way too fattening otherwise.”
“I’ve noticed,” Walter said, thinking of his own expanding waistline. Maybe he would take Ronnie Sullivan up on his invitation to join him, Cal Maddox, Tom McDonald and some of the other men in town to shoot hoops sometime.
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with your body,” she said, giving him a frank survey. “I did mention you’re hot, didn’t I?”
Walter had been hearing some variation of that since high school. It no longer had the power to seduce him. He’d realized how little looks mattered. He’d prefer it these days if someone told him he was living his life with integrity.
“Is that part of your sales spiel?” he asked Rory Sue.
“Nope, just an observation. I pretty much say what’s on my mind.”
“I imagine that gets you into trouble from time to time.”
“Not so much with men,” she said candidly. “They seem to appreciate knowing where they stand with me. I don’t have a lot of women friends, though.”
Honeysuckle Summer Page 5
