Embezzled Love

Chapter One

The nagging voice in Cassie Fremont's head urged her to end it all. She sighed and shifted her weight, crinkling the crisp, white paper covering the examining table. Perhaps this overdue visit to see Doctor Owens would restore some sanity to her life. She shook her head to clear the suicidal thoughts and shivered beneath the overhead vent.

Why a complete examination? She only needed medication to fight her depression. Considering her long-time physician liked to be thorough, she wasn't surprised he demanded she submit to a complete check-up despite all women hating them. Cassie chewed her bottom lip, reached around and tugged the blue plastic gown around her bare behind. What was taking the man so long, and why was the air-conditioning set so damned high?

Her nipples pebbled from the cold and became embarrassingly visible through her flimsy garment. The starched, modesty sheet draped across her legs was no help against the cold draft. She rubbed her dangling feet together, trying to thaw her icy toes. A glance at the panty hose draped over the chair with her clothing made her wish she'd worn socks instead.

Finally, the doorknob turned and Dr. Owens entered. "Hello, Ms. Fremont."

Doc Owens had been her physician for as long as she could remember. He was the one who did her very first Pap smear, and she recalled how humiliated she'd been at revealing her most private parts to a handsome, young man. Now he sported thinning grey hair, and deep wrinkles creased his once smooth brow. Had she aged that much? God, she hoped not.

"Well, Cassie." Dr. Owens lapsed into his more familiar tone while looking over her chart. He peered over his spectacles at her. "It's about time you came in. You haven't had a physical for over two years, and it's well past time for your mammogram, pelvic, and blood work. What happened to that woman who used to be so good about scheduling these visits?" His left eye dropped in a wink, soothing his lecture.

 "I think she became a procrastinator." Cassie lowered her head then looked up. A lump grew in her throat. "I'm sorry, but things have been hectic at work. I'm tired all the time but can't sleep, and I feel like crying for no reason at all. I live with a horrible emptiness inside that won't go away, and I need you to prescribe something to help me." She pressed her palms together as if praying.

Dr. Owens sat on his stool and jotted down notes in her chart. He finished, looked up and smiled. "I'm sure I can find something to help you, but let's get the nurse in here and get the unpleasant part of the exam over with."

The doctor pulled on his latex gloves. Cassie lay back and tried to relax. Knowing what was coming, didn't help. She managed a weak smile at the assisting nurse and waited patiently while the woman adjusted the metal stirrups and guided Cassie's feet into them. Following directions, Cass inched her bottom all the way to the table's edge, sure she was in the most uncomfortable and humiliating position. She stared at the ceiling and tried to picture white, sandy beaches at Maui.

The physician rolled his stool into place. "Relax and just let your knees fall apart."

The familiar and useless instructions were almost laughable. A flush warmed her cheeks when Dr. Owens donned his old-school headgear, flipped on a light reminiscent of a coalminer, and focused it on her nether region. His silhouette shone clearly through the modesty sheet as he disappeared between her legs. She rolled her eyes, wondering why in the world he hadn't purchased something more modern by now.

The cold speculum made her jump, and she stifled a groan when the doctor palpated her ovaries. The routine wasn't new, but still as horribly embarrassing as she recalled. The tropical image her mind beckoned failed to appear. She passed time by counting the little holes in the acoustical ceiling tiles.

"Well, that does it. Everything looks fine." Dr. Owens stood, stripped off his gloves, and threw them in the trash. He offered his hand and pulled her into a sitting position, looking at her with genuine concern. "So, tell me again what's bothering you, Cassie."

She combed her fingers through her hair. "I think I'm seriously depressed. Everything is a chore. I hate my job, I hate being sad all the time, and I really detest being alone. Sometimes, I wonder if life is even worth living anymore."

The doctor rested a hand on her shoulder. "Lots of women your age go through this, so you aren't alone. We'll get things straightened out." He plucked his pen from his breast pocket and bent over her chart. "How regular are your periods?"

"Pretty regular, just not as heavy as they used to be."

He straightened. "Well, my guess is you've begun menopause, but the blood tests will tell for sure. This time in a woman's life can cause dramatic changes in your emotional status. Ceasing to menstruate can magnify other problems and make them seem twice as bad. The good news: there are a number of medications we can try."

Cassie shivered and clutched the sheet around her. She fought tears as she struggled to find her voice. "Thank you, Dr. Owens. I really need something."

He patted her hand. "Go ahead and get dressed. I'll be right back with your lab slips and prescription. Just make sure to follow the directions. If the medicine doesn't appear to make any difference in your mood swings, let me know and we'll try something else."

Cassie quickly changed into her clothes and sat, waiting. She heaved a huge sigh, glad she'd shared her problem with someone in the medical profession. Still, a niggling voice suggested if she took all the pills at once, her problems would be over.

* * *

Cassie walked into the den, sat at her desk, and pulled the tape from the bend in her arm where they'd taken blood. The only good thing about the appointment had been the fact that it kept her from another long, depressing day at work. Dealing with her asshole boss and feeling like a financial prisoner had become commonplace. Economics forced her to stay in the job she'd come to hate.

Loneliness consumed her. She hung her head and wished for someone who understood her plights…someone to wine and dine her, to help wash away the daily stress. Coming home to no one but her eighty-year-old mom pushed Cass into a darker hole of self-pity. She stood and retrieved her purse from the end of the couch, then fished for the prescription she'd gotten filled on the way home. Instead of one pill, she downed two.

Back at her desk, she faced her dusty monitor and wondered why it was so hard to find a decent man? Her reflection in the screen showed her furrowed brow. So many worked in her office, but none shared a mutual attraction. There she was, a lone female lost in a sea of self-centered men who despised her for achieving a level status with them, and working for a new boss who made her feel like crap. None of the males expressed their feelings with words, but it didn't take a Rhodes Scholar to see they resented her. If only she knew why? Because she was smart, successful, and deserving?

Cassie released a pent-up breath and turned on her ancient computer. Why was finding a man so important? She'd always been an independent woman who made her own decisions and answered to no one. Why after so many years did she feel so hollow inside? Spending the rest of her life alone and so unhappy wasn't what she wanted.

She leaned in and traced her face with her finger. She wasn't a young woman, but at forty-nine, she still looked good. Her wardrobe was based on current fashion trends, complete with matching accessories. Her professionally colored hair hid any wisps of gray, and if she did say so herself, the shade looked very natural.

Moving her hand down, she followed the curve of her body, making note of her slight waist and firm hip. Maintaining a size ten figure wasn't easy, and she glanced at the gym equipment across the room, wondering if perhaps her time would be better spent working out instead of indulging in a last-ditch effort to find her 'Mister Right.' She swallowed hard to ease the growing lump in her throat.

Why did she still feel like crying? Despite taking her medication, dark thoughts pulled her deeper into depression. Well aware of ways to end the vicious cycle, she pictured an empty pill bottle laying just a few feet from a limp body, and shivered.

"No!" She shouted the word as if telling the devil her soul was not up for sale.

The emotional release brought immediate relief. She could still control her destiny, and that was a good thing. Negative thoughts pushed aside, she summoned positive energy and reminded herself to stay strong.

While waiting for her system to boot up, Cassie swiped a finger across her desk, leaving a mark in the accumulated dust. Maybe this weekend she'd muster the initiative to clean. Right now, she was tired and needed to relax. She arched forward, hoping the kink in her back would ease and chuckled at the irony. All day at work she sat in front of a computer, and now here she was, parked in front of one at home. What a dolt.

Her old machine finally whirred to life, a sad comparison to the new Pentium 4 she used at the office. Someday she'd buy a new home system, but for now the old one served her purpose. Until recently, she'd only used her computer for home banking, but last night, she'd actually joined an online dating site and posted her profile. Was that the move of desperation? As pathetic as it seemed, anxiousness overcame her. Had anyone responded?

Since her divorce five years ago, she had only dated a few times. The caliber of available men seriously disappointed her. Cocktail lounges and bars were nothing but meat markets, and frequenting them was like fishing in the 'reject pond of life.' Every man there had already been caught at some point in his life and thrown back, most likely for good reason. The rumor that supermarkets served as a good meeting place for singles turned out to be nothing more than an old wives' tale. Few men shopped at Cassie's neighborhood store, and the only males working there were teenage baggers with acne, and an ancient butcher. All the cashiers were women.