Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (25 page)

Her eyes slid to his and she lifted those dark brows. “Told you, long story.” She braced a hand on his knee, resituated to face him. “But Heidi is a good example of a mild case. She’s lucky, one of those that needs the time and support. In others, the severity varies, even moving to life-threatening.

“There was one drug in particular that seemed to work well for the majority of those patients—the deeply struggling. It’s off the market now, but then, it was all the rage. Kind of like fen-phen—remember that diet pill people went crazy for in the late 90s, early 2000s, only to find out it basically caused all kinds of killer side effects?—same thing. Sort of. Except this too-good-to-be-true drug I prescribed caused a myriad of problems in fetuses, particularly those in the first fragile weeks of growth. If they ever made it there at all. When tested further, it almost exclusively caused pregnancy loss across the board.” She lifted a shoulder and her eyes clouded, went dark with confliction, sadness. “There were rumors of it before it blew wide open, talk that there might be something bad coming. But I kept on scribbling on my pad, giving it to those women I deemed ‘needed’ it.”

“So you prescribed harmful antidepressants to pregnant women?”

An explosion of thunder and crack of white lightening startled them both, had Jenna looking out to the angry night with a bit of unease. But she pulled a leg up under her on the swing and waited until the worst of it rumbled through before looking at Ben with what he could only peg as shame.

“Prescribed, yes. Pregnant, I’ll never know. That’s why I said more than one. Two, three, ten, who knows? I didn’t think it through enough. Didn’t consider that while most of the women I was treating for depression weren’t pregnant, the longing to be or pain associated with pregnancy or the loss of one was the primary reason for the depression. They would’ve been trying to conceive, trying for a baby. And if I was their doctor, they lost the child.”

“Did you have complaints, evidence this actually happened?”

“No, the clinic came out unscathed, as far as law suits went. No one that I ever knew of or treated claimed a miscarriage or any pregnancy related problems associated with that drug.” She shook her head, found a slightly raised nail head in one of the swing's boards and picked at it. “But that doesn’t mean there weren’t any. That I wasn't wrong in my decision. I decided for them that they would suffer more without the medication.
I
decided that the chance of relapse during or after a pregnancy was greater than the safety of their unborn child. I didn’t reveal concerns with a drug they were taking. Valid, real concerns, because I thought, deep down, a small handful of my very distraught patients couldn’t handle a child.”

She rose from the creaking swing, eased her hip onto the porch rail and leaned out into the rain that had finally begun to ebb. “I made a horrible decision, Ben. One I’ll forever regret. I made choices I wasn't entitled to make. Even if I don’t have proof or know with any certainty that my actions caused a woman to lose a child, the possibility is what tortures me.

“I’ve rationalized it by telling myself if I do the best I can now, the past will go away. But it doesn’t. It lingers." She drummed her fingers on the wooden column, slid off the rail and faced him. “No amount of good deeds or denial will change the way things were. That’s why I'm scared now. Maybe abnormally frantic in these recent situations. When you feel guilt, shame over something you’ve done, you’re always looking over your shoulder wondering if someone will find you out, punish you for your sins.”

She watched him, waited as he took it all in, mulled it over. She’d trusted him enough to confess a burden she’d carried with her for a decade. She knew as well as he did that it deserved a moment of consideration.

So he considered and swayed in his swing, finally pushing up after several moments and meeting her at the railing.

“Jenna, I agree that your actions were not ideal, maybe not even a hundred percent ethically preferable . . . but you did what you thought was right. And you didn’t intentionally or maliciously harm. You wouldn't ever. You were trying to help. And no one would fault you for that. I don’t.

“I see your point, understand even your guilt in it. But you have no proof, as you said, that it even affected any of your patients negatively. No one came forward, no one talked to the clinic or you. For all we know, you did your job. You helped women in a difficult time. Some who may not’ve come out the other side if not for you.”

Coming in right on cue, a whooping yell from Dawson echoed down from above, able to be heard now over the dwindling drizzle.

It eased the tension of a heavy moment, caused Jenna to glance up in the direction of the dormer upstairs with an easy smile. “I don’t know if I can express how much I love you, Ben. How grateful I am you’re kind enough to listen, to try and understand me.”

“It goes both ways. You ready to go in, get dry?”

She nodded. “Probably need to get the kids home, too. Though I’m sure to hear some complaints about it from the sound of it.”

He wrapped an around her at they turned to the door. “Seems they’ve taken well to my parents, Heidi.”

“We all have. They’re wonderful.”

“Are you cold?”

She glanced down at her sweater, jeans, fingered the colorful scarf wrapped around her neck. “No, why?”

“I’m feeling a little bit guilty. Giving you the third degree about trust and here I am guarding my family secret.”

She turned her head, raised an interested brow. “Well, we could definitely talk more about my skeletons, but I’d be glad to listen if you want to share.”

“I was just figuring, long as it’s all right with you, we could do it out here, away from Heidi. Mom, too, as you saw she gets a bit teary about it.”

TWENTY-ONE

Feeling lighter than she had in weeks (maybe years), Jenna ignored that she was, in fact, cool and that her clothes were damp, and taking Ben with her, she crossed to the porch steps.

The rain had finally stopped, the dark clouds rolled away, leaving a beautiful, lingering sunset in a still, watery night. Like the air, Jenna felt clean and fresh, wiped of the guilt and secrecy that had bogged her down for years. How wonderful to finally say those things, to get the demons out in the open. It didn’t change the reality, and they still hadn't fleshed out her speculations on the harassment to the degree she wanted, but they had time.

Now that he had forgiven, they had the time, to talk, to share, to live and love.

She was ready to return all he’d given her. Finally ready and more than willing to listen, give and open herself to him and his needs in every way possible.

Hopefully she could offer comfort, solace, advice, whatever he or his family needed where Joseph was concerned.

Steadying herself on Ben’s solid forearm, she eased to the porch floor, tucked her feet under her, avoiding the puddles on the steps below, and patted a spot beside her. “I’m all ears.”

He sat, stretched those long, lean legs. “You know about Joseph, know something’s off there. Every time it’s come up, I feel like I've brushed you off, left you confused about my obvious irritation. I don’t know what Heidi’s shared, if anything, in your meetings. I don’t know if it was out of respect for her or denial from me that I haven’t spoken of it yet.”

“We all take the time we need to say the things that need to be said.”

“Joseph doesn’t know about the baby.”

Of all the things she was expecting, that definitely wasn’t it. “Okay . . .”

“I mean he doesn’t even know Heidi’s pregnant.”

Jenna said the first, though maybe not the smartest or most sensitive thought, that popped in her head. “Is he the father?”

“Of course,” Ben grumbled, slightly disgusted. “She’d never do that.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Jenna grabbed, squeezed his big hand. “I definitely wasn’t insinuating anything about Heidi . . . I’ve come to love her. But she hasn’t mentioned anything about Joseph, in or outside the office."

Jenna watched as he looked out onto his land, choosing his words, determining where to begin. She decided he looked dangerously cool and sexy in the haze of twilight: His black hair meeting the darkness, the green of his eyes repelling it.

“Heidi and Joseph have been together for the better part of nine years—married for eight of those. Joseph’s six years younger than me, so I've always looked out for him, typical big brother. When he came home Christmas break from his sophomore year of college raving about this beautiful fantasy girl, I knew he was a goner. Of course, I warned him about love, heartbreak, the usual drama of women,” he paused to glance at Jenna who rolled her eyes, "and he chose his own way, chose her. Few months later, I get a call, raving this time because that fantasy girl was pregnant.”

“Heidi?”

Ben nodded. “And he was fine with that. In love. Said he knew she was
the one
. Turns out, he was much more concerned about her parents. They were—and still are——a piece of work. Once they found out, they gave Heidi the boot. Wouldn’t talk to her, take her calls, visits, nothing.”

Jenna’s heart ached for young Heidi. She hoped if she was ever put in such a position with Jacy, the good Lord would give her the strength to react properly and not turn her back when her child needed her most.

“But Joe loved her, wanted to do right by her. He swept her back here to Tennessee and married her.”

Jenna watched a frog hop by, heard the
plop
as it bounced into a little pond on the gravel the storm had left behind. “Sounds like it worked out for both of them.”

“It did for a while. Until Heidi lost the baby.” Now he turned, looked at Jenna. “You know the rest."

She nodded sadly. “That was just the first.”

“They tried for another soon after. Lost it, too. Tried again, took a while this time. Heidi became a bit desperate, I guess you could say. It frustrated Joseph. The time, the effort, her sadness. It was like a cycle. Trying, failing, happiness again, losing the baby.”

“It’s common. All those feelings, what you’re describing.”

“Heidi admitted she was hard on Joseph, so consumed with being a mother she forgot to be a wife. It turned him away, turned him off from even wanting fatherhood, I think. At least for a time.” Ben shook his head, sighed. "Tell him he can’t do something and he’ll achieve it times ten. Badger him and he doesn’t see the point.”

Sympathetic, Jenna put a hand to his leg. “I’m sure Heidi didn’t mean to badger, but I see Joseph's hurt too.

“Oh, the whole thing’s hard, on every side. Problem is, Joseph can be stupid.”

Jenna raised her brows and Ben shrugged.

“He threw himself into work, took on more than he could handle. He was spent physically. Tired, overwhelmed in his marriage. Last straw for him was coming home one day to find Heidi in the kitchen wrapped in some other guy’s arms."

Jenna wanted to gasp but held in it. It wasn’t something she pictured Heidi doing. “Who was the guy?”

“Me.”

Now she did gasp. Only slightly though. She would reserve judgment until she’d heard all . . . after all, she’d just thrown years of pent-up turmoil at him and he’d taken it in stride.

“It’s not what it sounds like, obviously. I’d come by to drop some tools off he’d need for a job the next day. Heidi invited me in, giddy as a schoolgirl. She all but burst with the news about the baby. I wrapped her up in a big hug, twirled her around a few times, then in walked Joseph with the look of hellfire on his face.”

“But he knows you, knows Heidi. He couldn’t honestly think something was going on between you two?”

“Told ya—stupid.”

“Hmmm. Not stupid, Ben. Just confused. He might’ve even felt inferior or unworthy because they had so much trouble conceiving. Many men do. And when a woman loses a child she often feels the same. Broken, unnatural. They're hard hurdles to get past sometime.”

“I’ll give him that. But he didn’t have to take off. We didn’t get a word in edgewise before he’d barreled away. Heidi went out for a while later that day, came back and found a piece a paper. That’s all he left. A sorry, stinkin’ piece of paper for the woman he loves, the woman pregnant with his child.”

Jenna waited a beat, spoke gently, “But he doesn’t know, Ben.”

“I know that,” he spat, running a hand over his hair, “and that’s not my call.”

“Why?”

“Heidi thinks he needs time. Thinks he’ll be back of his own accord without pressure surrounding a baby.”

“I understand that, too. She doesn’t want him to feel obligated.”

“But he is obligated. And at the same time, she isn’t an obligation for him. He does love her. I think he’s just stressed, overworked, confused, I don't know. I really don’t know what could cause such cloudy judgment. But there it is. He’s gone and we don’t know where. He’s put in a call or two to Mom, told her he’s well. I feel like he’s had to make some kind of contact with Heidi as she's pretty cool about it, but she hasn’t spoken of it, not to me at least.”

Before she could ask more questions, the screen door squeaked open and Annette walked briskly out, holding a phone.