Handle with Care (4 page)

“Away
from the person I once was,” she replied in a soft enough tone he could pretend
not to have heard if he chose.

* * *

Chapter 5 ~ Discovered
Craig turned off the engine and pulled his keys from the ignition, but he made
no move to open the door. Instead, he turned in his seat in an attempt to face
her. “Is that person so different from who you are now?” He was insanely
curious about this woman's evasive nature. He’d never met someone capable of
being so withdrawn, and yet still warm and considerate. It was as if she could
listen to his whole life story, feel empathy for him, but never give him the
chance to do the same for her.

Abby
cringed a little at the intensity of his focus upon her. She began to think he
had missed his calling. He would have made a good therapist; he was quite
intuitive, and persistent.
He would have done just fine in my field
.

“Not
yet,” she admitted as she put her hand on the door handle and began to open it.
“But I hope one day, she will be.” She was about to make a dramatic exit from
the car, when she encountered the boundary of the seat belt he had put on for
her. He reached out and covered the clasp she reached to release. Abby’s cheeks
burned with embarrassment.

“I
promise you, before you leave here, you're going to tell me everything,” he
said, with enough lightness to his tone he could get away with such an
aggressive statement. He released the clasp on the belt and Abby nearly jumped
out of the car in an effort to get away. She did not look back at him, not even
when he fell into step beside her. Abby adjusted her purse on her shoulder and
grabbed a cart as they reached the entrance. It was about one-third the size of
stores she was used to. She was fairly certain they would not have a great
supply of the organic foods she usually purchased. Abby tried to quell her
anxiousness by building a list in her mind.

As
she pushed the cart through the sliding doors, she realized Craig was going to
follow her around the store. She usually did not have company while she
shopped. There was something intimate about him knowing her purchasing habits.
First of all, the number one item was a large bottle of wine. What would he
think of her? More importantly, why did she care what he thought? To her
relief, the grocery store was more populated than the sleepy town had been. She
hoped it would be busy enough to distract him from her selections, and from
asking any more questions.

“This
you have
got
to try,” Craig said with pride, as though she would be
missing out on life if she did not taste it. There he stood holding up a large
bottle of wine. Abby froze, staring at him with surprise. His smiled faded as
he lowered the bottle.

“Oh,
you don't drink?” He realized he might have ventured into personal territory.
“AA?” He probed.

“No,
no,” she blurted out as she took the bottle of wine from him. She then lifted
one shoulder in a mild shrug. “At least, not yet.” Abby laughed awkwardly and
looked over the label on the bottle of wine he offered.

“It's
from a local orchard,” he explained and tapped the glass lightly with his
fingernail. “It is delicious. You’ll never be able to get it back in
Philadelphia. So you’d better enjoy it while you're here.”

Abby
gave him a small smile before setting the bottle of wine into her grocery cart.
“Thanks,” she said and continued down the aisle. A woman walking toward them
met eyes with Craig and flashed a secretive grin. Craig glanced away,
pretending to look at the selection of rice.

“Oh
boy, we're going to be the talk of the town,” he muttered as he shook his head.
“That was Penelope Baker, the mayor's wife. Before we get back, everyone will
know we were caught in the act,” he gasped and clutched at his chest playfully,
“of grocery shopping together.”

“Oh,
if it bothers you, maybe we should split up,” Abby suggested, trying to hide
the hopefulness in her voice. Craig cast her a sidelong look which was more
mischievous than intimidating.

“And
miss out on investigating your food preferences? No way.” He shook his head
firmly, sweeping his fingers back through his brown curls. Abby sighed in
surrender and began looking through the choices of salmon.

“I
thought you said you were a volunteer park ranger, not a volunteer detective,”
Abby grumbled, shuffling through fish until she found one that was the right
size.

“You
know, I could catch one of those for you,” he pointed out with a chuckle.

“Oh
yes, I forgot. You are a fisherman, too. My, aren’t you a jack of all trades!”
Her tone mostly teasing, she placed the salmon next to the wine and continued
her browsing. As she chose some berries and vegetables, Craig wandered off
briefly. When he returned, he had two large containers of chocolate ice cream.
Abby looked up at him, puzzled.

“One’s
for you, and one’s for Chloe,” he explained. “Do you mind if I leave it in your
cart?”

“That's
fine,” Abby smiled. The more time she spent with Craig, the more she found him
endearing. Although his constant questioning was not pleasant, his general
nature was kind and warm. Considering his horrific loss, she couldn't imagine a
person more grounded. He really did seem to be capable of living his life, of
being happy. A slight twinge reminded her she did not just admire his personality.
Craig was quite interesting and, despite herself, she was beginning to find him
rather attractive. She shook off the thought with a shrug and a chuckle. She
had no intention of pursuing him. But it was reassuring to know she could
actually feel interest.
Maybe, just maybe, one day I will have something of
a life again.
She was not convinced.

* * *

The
rest of the grocery trip went by pretty swiftly, as she was sensitive to the
fact Craig would have to get back to Chloe. As she stacked her items on the
conveyer belt to check out, Abby purposely avoided looking at the magazines and
newspapers lining the lane. She disagreed strongly with what they pushed; lies
to make a quick buck.

Abby
began to notice whispers between the beeping of the food scanner. As she
rummaged in her purse for her wallet, she felt her stomach suddenly clench.

“Is
that her?” The whisper came from somewhere nearby. Sure, they could have been
talking about anyone, but Abby doubted it. She was positive they were
discussing her.
How do they know who I am, way out here?
It became
harder for her to concentrate on getting her credit card out of her wallet as
the whispers continued. Being talked about took you right back to high school.
Gawd did she hate that feeling... being chided, feeling self-conscious. She
finally wrestled her credit card out of its little slot and handed it
impatiently to the woman at the cash register. Her anxiety was growing.

Abby
became increasingly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, averting eye contact.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes watered and her breathing became shallow. She
had to get out.
Could the checker ring
any slower?
She didn’t want to be discovered. A feeling of impending doom
built deep in Abby’s gut. She dared not look up. She wanted to escape the
store, to become invisible, to fade away, but needed the groceries.
Hold on,
Abb. Hold on. Breathe.
Abby’s distress mounted, knowing those people, and more importantly, Craig,
were standing right behind her.
Does he know they’re talking about me?
He
is so silent
. Abby decided to risk a glance. As she turned to steal a look
at Craig, she was stricken by what she saw. Just beyond him, close to the
conveyer belt, was a stack of tabloids. And there, splashed across the front
page, was her face. The photo couldn’t be more unflattering.
There she was... stunned, staring helplessly at
the cameras as the photographers behind the lenses hounded her.
Damn
paparazzi.
The feeling in
that moment –
the flood of panic and embarrassment – forever immortalized on film, washed
over her anew. Abby shuddered. It was a memory she’d like to forget, a memory
that haunted her, a memory that cut like a knife. She was both humiliated and
traumatized at the thought of it. It was at that moment the whole world had
come to know her name.

The
headline read, “Where is Abigail Miles? Has She Disappeared?”
What? I’m not
some child on a milk carton
. Abby was not being hunted for the sake of
wanting her back. The smaller print beneath the ugly photograph made it clear.

“Will
the country's most hated psychologist ever show her face again?”

Abby
cringed as she saw Craig's hand reach for the paper.
Is he really going to
buy that?
Her cover was blown. Everyone in the grocery store now knew who
she was and why she was there, including Craig.

“I'm
sorry, Ma'am,” the clerk said quietly. “Could you swipe the card again? It
didn't read the first time.” The clerk glanced nervously from Abby to the line
of people which had formed behind her. Abby's hand shook as she ran the card
again, trying not to look at anyone. She wanted so desperately to get out of
the store that she couldn’t see straight. Tears were filling her eyes and she
was losing it. She was embarrassed, hurt, trapped. Her heart ached and felt as
if it was being torn from her chest. She couldn’t stand it.
Please, please,
please... can this end?

The
receipt finally began to print. Abby snatched it from the clerk and impatiently
tried to pack the cart. She glanced back at Craig briefly, watching as he
flipped the paper over. He put it back on the stack so her face was hidden. He
paused to pay for his ice cream, but Abby could not wait any longer. She had to
get out – the stress was suffocating. Abby scurried out of the grocery store,
not realizing she had left her bags.

Abby
stood outside, her mind flooded with jumble of disconnected thoughts. As she
paced back and forth on the sidewalk outside the store, she was in a near panic.
They know who I am? How will I face them? And Craig... will he tell anyone?
Will he keep my secret? Heck, will he even give me a ride home, knowing who
I am?
She didn't think so, and only then remembered she had left her
groceries inside.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. What am I going to do? I can’t go
back in!
Abby was so frantic she couldn’t think straight. She rounded the corner of the
store, thinking only of getting away.
I could certainly call a cab from
here... or just walk. I’ll do anything to not face Craig again.
She
struggled to keep the tears from streaming down her face. Once more, she felt
like a specimen under a microscope. She was breaking down, again
. Oh
please... I don’t want to go back to the sanitarium. Maybe I can run away?
Dark
thoughts flooded her with such rapidity she couldn’t help but loathe herself.
Abby was so swept up in a tsunami of pain and self-doubt she couldn’t form a
rational thought. It was the hand on her arm that snapped her back into
reality.

“Abby!”
Craig said in a forceful tone. “Breathe... just take a deep breath.” He
struggled to meet her eyes but held her gaze once he found it. His hands cupped
her face.

 “Ready?
Breathe with me.” He took a deep breath in, and blew it out. It was calming.
Abby fought it. She didn't want to breathe. She wanted to disappear. She didn't
want to be shown kindness. She didn’t deserve it. Torrents of tears flowed the
moment Craig said her name.
His touch was
unbelievably comforting. It was the first time, in a long time, anyone had
offered her genuine comfort.

“Breathe,
I said.” Craig was harsher in his tone this time, holding her face firmly. Abby
drew in a ragged breath. It felt like spikes lined with razor blades slashing
every part of her lungs. She hated panic attacks; they were the scariest thing
she had ever experienced. She had never had them, until the event. Abby didn’t
know what she hated most - the crushing pressure in her chest, the tightening
of her throat, the uncontrollable racing of her heart, or the agony of each
breath she took. It was like dying a slow, painful, and terrifying death,
except death did not come. She was free to be tortured endlessly by the same
scenario, each episode no less frightening.

“And
again,” Craig said, demonstrating how to draw a long, slow breath. His grip
loosened on her jaw as she followed his directions. Abby began to feel a little
more in control of herself, though it was hard for her to keep calm. Craig
walked her through a panic attack. That was even more mortifying than his
knowing who she was.
Looking down, her
embarrassment grew as she saw her bags abandoned on the sidewalk at his feet
.

“Shh.”
Craig moved his thumbs to brush away the tears which had snaked down Abby’s
cheeks. His subtle touch soothed and scared her in the same moment. It left her
in a place of awe. As he tucked wayward strands of hair from her ponytail back
behind her ears, he continued studying her eyes, looking for a sign she had
fully returned. Abby was grateful for his kindness, but felt exposed. She wanted
nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible. His understanding
would not last. She feared seeing disgust surface in his expression, as it had
in the face of every person who learned the truth of what she had caused.