Magic in Our Hearts (7 page)

“This is a beautiful home.”

“Thanks. Brett spent about a year designing and decorating it when I gave it to her.”

“This is Brett’s home?” Taylor was surprised.

Mrs. Camden smiled, a smile filled with pain and love. “Yes, she told me she was making a home worthy of a partner. Her plan was to fall in love and live here for the rest of her life.”

“When did she do this?”

“Eight years ago. It stood almost empty after she finished remodeling. She said she didn’t want anyone to live here until she found her soul mate. She didn’t move in until after she was released from the hospital the last time.” Taylor’s heart shriveled in her chest. “Then she’s found someone?” Roselin had to prevent herself from smiling when she heard the worry in Taylor’s voice. “No. Brett no longer believes she deserves to be loved.” Taylor was once again overcome with sadness at how much Brett had suffered, how much she had given up. “I’m surprised she gave permission for me to stay here.”

“She didn’t. Brett will refuse me nothing. I’m afraid I tricked her into this arrangement.”

“What do you mean?”

“I made her promise that I could hire one more physical therapist to work with her. I knew she would go along with me because of my illness.”

“That’s, that’s …”

“Emotional blackmail and I would do it again if it will help my daughter heal.” Mrs. Camden met Taylor’s eyes directly. She loved her only child unconditionally. 

“You didn’t tell her it was me?”

“No, I did not.”

“Why?” Taylor had to understand Mrs. Camden’s actions.

“Because she would have refused.”

“She may not work with me.” Taylor flinched as if she’d been hit.

“She will. I have complete faith in you, Taylor.”

“I hope you’re right.” Taylor had serious doubts as to whether she could get Brett to do anything with her. Her show of indifference toward Taylor had cut to the bone. She felt she would have very little influence over the physically and emotionally scarred woman. She wasn’t sure how she was going to reach her.

“I am, dear.”

CHAPTER 7

Brett slumped down in her chair and tipped back the cut glass crystal tumbler as she swilled down the last of the Scotch. Seeing Taylor after all this time had inundated her with pain. She hadn’t seen her for years, but she hadn’t forgotten a single detail about her. She was furious that Taylor had to see her in this condition.

She had kept everyone at bay, so no one knew how far along her self-destruction had gone. Now, the one woman she had ever loved was in her home, planning to work with her. How ironic was that! It was going to kill Brett being around Taylor.

Reaching across the dust-covered table, she grabbed the open bottle of Scotch and refilled her glass. The large room was dark and gloomy. The only light was from a single lamp next to the rumpled, unmade bed. It was a dark cave, one that Brett hid in and where she drank herself slowly into oblivion. The only thing that helped Brett get through her days was her drinking. She was in constant pain and her body was covered with scars. Even walking was difficult, and she had no reason to get better. Her mother was dying and she had no one else in her life. She felt the sting of unshed tears and a wave of self-pity as she remembered the look of shock on Taylor’s face. She must have been totally disgusted by what she saw.

Brett couldn’t even look at her own body in the mirror. She had destroyed it.

“God, I can’t do this anymore,” Brett sobbed, as she laid her head down on the table and cried uncontrollably. She lamented lost love, lost opportunities, and her mother’s imminent death. She wept until she fell asleep, in part due to the alcohol and her lack of food. Her unwashed body slumped against the table in restless slumber as she fought against the alcohol that barely anesthetized her from her pain and anguish. 

While Brett slept restlessly, Taylor was introduced to both of the women who took care of Brett’s home and was told that dinner would be served whenever she wanted since Brett didn’t take regular meals. The two women were as different as night and day. Fran was tall and slender, with dark brown hair interspersed with grey. Helen was short and stocky, due largely to her incredible cooking skills and her healthy appetite. Her hair was mostly grey, peppered with a few light brown strands and tied up on her head in a casual knot. Both women were loyal to Brett and wanted nothing more than to help Taylor help her recover.

“What can we do?” Fran and Helen sat at the kitchen table with Taylor. Roselin had left her with the two women and promised to call Taylor later that evening.

“You can help me get Brett on a regular schedule of meals and exercise. She needs structure to help her get back on track. She also needs to stop drinking and get the alcohol out of her system.”

“Good luck! She’s usually drunk by midday, and she doesn’t eat a thing.” Fran remarked. She and Helen had all but given up trying to keep Brett from drinking.

“She will have to come around in time. Helen, do you mind if I work with you on some menus? I’ve found that good, healthy food, heavy on protein, helps with the recuperation.” Helen was a sixty-year-old Welsh woman whom Taylor liked immediately. She lived in the house in separate quarters attached to the back of the kitchen. Fran did most of the housekeeping and went home to her husband at the end of the day. It was not difficult to keep the place spic and span, except for Brett’s bedroom. She wouldn’t let Fran or Helen into her room.

“I’ll do anything miss, if you can get some food into that one. She’s skin and bones and refuses to eat anything at all most days. When she does eat, she just picks at things. I’ve tried everything I know how to do.”

“She’ll eat,” Taylor announced with determination. Brett was going to get better, even if it killed Taylor. She was firmly resolved about what she had to accomplish.

“Can you get her to let Fran clean that pit of a room she hides in? It’s filthy, and the only time she lets us in is when her mother forces her to. It’s a crime for her to live like this.”

“She’ll let you clean it. Brett doesn’t know it yet, but I can be just as stubborn as she is,” Taylor remarked, her blue eyes sparking.

“Good luck, Ms. Taylor. We love her and it’s sad to see her drinking so heavily.”

“How does she get her alcohol?” 

“We pick it up with the groceries and things. If we don’t pick it up she has it delivered or a friend will drop it off.”

“As of today, no more alcohol is coming into this place. If she asks you to get any more, come to me. I’ll deal with her.” Taylor hurried out of the kitchen intent on locating Brett and speaking directly to her. Fran and Helen exchanged grins as they watched her heading in the direction of what they called Brett’s dungeon. They were expecting an imminent explosion.

“There are going to be some fireworks around here,” Helen commented, as she watched Taylor wrench the door open.

“It’s about time,” Fran responded, as they both steeled themselves for Brett’s tantrum.

Taylor entered the dim room and hesitated in order to get her bearings. It was obviously a room that functioned as a bedroom, entertainment, and workout room. It was also obvious that the fully functional gym was not being used. Dirty clothes hung off the weights, and there was a layer of dust covering everything.

The draperies were pulled shut, even though it was early afternoon, the beautiful view totally blocked. She saw the bottle of Scotch next to Brett’s hand, as she lay slumped in a chair, her head on a filthy table. Taylor approached her quietly and realized that Brett was sleeping or passed out, evidence of tears on her face.

“Oh, honey what’s happened to you?” Taylor whispered as she moved closer to the unconscious woman. “Brett, honey, wake up.”

“What … what,” Brett mumbled as Taylor gently shook her, the smell of alcohol and unwashed body almost overwhelming her.

“Get up, honey. You’re going to take a shower and get cleaned up, and then you’re going to eat a decent meal.”

The alcohol had taken its toll, along with the medications Brett took to manage her pain. Her words were slurred, and she was almost incoherent. “Why, Taylor, why?”

“Why what?” Taylor helped Brett to her feet and wrapped her arm tightly around her waist. She was shocked at how bony Brett felt.

“Why are you here? Why you?”

“Because I want to help you.” Brett’s eyes were barely open, and she leaned heavily against Taylor as they moved slowly to the bathroom.

“Why you?”

“Because I care about you.”

“I love you, you know.” The words were so soft Taylor barely heard them as she moved Brett into the shower. But Taylor’s heart leaped at the quietly uttered pledge. There was a shower chair in the large open shower and she gently sat Brett down in it.

Taylor wanted to wrap her arms around the inebriated woman and just hold her, but she didn’t. Her heart was too raw with emotion and she needed to get Brett cleaned up. “Stay here, honey, I’ll be right back.” Taylor flew out of the bathroom and ran for the kitchen, startling Fran and Helen when she burst through the door. “I need both of you to help me. Fran, can you change the bed in Brett’s room and clear out some of the dust? Helen, I need you to make some hot soup and toast. I’m going to get her cleaned up and get some food into her.”

“We’ll do it!” Helen responded, surprised at how quickly Taylor was taking charge.

“Thanks. I’m going to help Brett take a shower. If you could change the bed first, it would really help. I’m going to put her in bed as soon as she’s clean.” Taylor ran back into Brett’s room, fearful of leaving her unattended in her current drunken state for long, but Brett was still slumped in the chair, her chin resting on her chest as she slept.

“Okay, honey, let’s get these filthy clothes off.” Taylor started to remove Brett’s tee shirt.

“Hey, leave my shirt alone!” Brett snarled, as she began to fight with Taylor.

“You can’t take a shower in your clothes.”

“Leave me alone! I just want to sleep.”

Taylor put her hands on her hips and glared at the very intoxicated woman.

“You’re taking a shower! You stink! Now, you can keep the clothes on if you want, but you
are
showering!” Taylor’s voice bounced off the marble walls.

“Shit, quit screaming.” Brett put her hands over her ears.

Taylor glared at Brett and then reached out and turned the shower on spray-ing Brett’s face and chest with water. Her clothes were soaked as she shivered under the icy spray.

“Jesus! God damn it! What are you trying to do, drown me?” Brett sputtered, as Taylor calmly turned the shower up to full power.

“Remove those filthy clothes.”

Brett looked up through her bloodshot eyes and wet, matted hair and recognized the look on Taylor’s face. She wasn’t going away. “Okay, you get the hell out and I’ll take them off.”

“No.”

“Yes, God damn it!”

“You will take everything off and scrub every inch of your body.” 

“Get the hell out!” Brett snarled as she started to stand up. “I can do this by myself.”

“I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Taylor smiled sweetly at the ill-tempered woman.

Brett swore and mumbled under her breath, but she stood up and took her clothes off. She couldn’t let Taylor look at her scarred, disfigured body. That would kill her. She slowly stepped out of her things, adjusted the temperature of the water, reached for the shower soap and began to scrub her body and her hair.

It had been a long while since she had taken a full shower.

Taylor smiled as she stepped out of the bathroom and saw that Helen and Fran had opened the draperies and were busily cleaning the room. In the full light of day the room was even more dismal, as the sight of several empty Scotch bottles laid testimony to what Brett was doing to herself. Garbage overflowed the one wastebasket, and dirty clothes were piled up everywhere.

“Here, let me help.” Taylor gathered up a stack of dirty clothes and followed Helen out of the room as Fran made up the double bed. “I need some clean towels for her bathroom.”

“I’ll show you where everything is,” Helen remarked as she led Taylor to the laundry storeroom. “There are towels and sheets in this room.”

“Thanks.”

“We should be thanking you. Brett needs someone to penetrate her thick skull. We’ve been so worried about her.”

“I don’t know if I can do much more than try and get her to eat and exercise.

And she has to stop all the alcohol. She needs to get all of it out of her system and start focusing on her rehabilitation.”

“She’s going to go through withdrawal.”

“I know.” Taylor looked into Helen’s eyes as she responded. It was going to be an uphill battle. They were all going to have to work together as a team.

“Here are a handful of towels.”

Taylor hurried back through the bedroom and into the bathroom just as Brett stepped out of the shower. The sight of all the scars on the once beautiful body made Taylor cry out. Brett’s skin was pale, making the angry red scars stand out.

Four-inch scars slashed over both kneecaps, and several long scars jaggedly crossed her chest. Her skin hung on her emaciated frame with no evidence of muscle tone in any part of her body. Her ribs were evident, and her stomach was concave. She looked half starved.

“Oh Brett …” 

“Get the fuck out!” Brett screamed, mortified that Taylor was seeing all that she had done to herself.

“I brought you some clean towels,” Taylor whispered, her eyes locked on Brett’s angry countenance.

“Get out!”

Taylor backed quickly out of the bathroom before she burst into tears. The beautiful body she remembered was literally crisscrossed with surgical scars, evidence of the extensive work done to repair her body. Taylor grieved over the amount of pain and suffering Brett had gone through.

Brett picked up a towel and buried her face in it. Hot tears streamed from her eyes as she felt the shame and embarrassment deep in her heart. “Goddamn it, why Taylor?”

Taylor turned and found Fran and Helen watching her closely, their faces studies in compassion. “She’s gone though so much.”