Out of the Shadow (15 page)

"You look lovely this morning."

I smiled shyly, pleased he had noticed I dressed to impress in my cobalt suit and white blouse. My sister Lara always said those colors complemented my olive complexion and brought out the faint honey highlights in my ordinarily dull brown hair and eyes. "You look well yourself. Did you have a good night?"

While I made my way to the coffee urn, he fell into step beside me. "Not as good as I would have had, if you had joined me." A mischievous twinkle illuminated his bright blue eyes. This man sizzled with sensuality in a way I had rarely run into. Lucky me—I think.

He poured a cup of coffee and offered it to me. "Have you considered my invitation for dinner this evening?"

Considered? I’d hardly slept a wink thinking about it. And I didn’t feel tired at all. That’s what a hearty dose of hormones mixed with adrenaline can do for you.
"If the offer still stands, I’d love to take you up on it," I said before I had a chance to spook myself into changing my mind.

He took a sip of coffee. "Great! I think we’ll have fun." Again the sparkle in his eyes. 

Again the tingle in my thighs. "Where are you taking me?"

"A special little hideaway near the art museum, with the best Beef Wellington in the world. I discovered it the last time I was in Philly. You do eat beef, don’t you?"

"Along with everything else. I adore Beef Wellington." And that isn’t the only meat I savor. I stopped myself, unable to believe I’m thinking this way. It’s totally out of character. What’s gotten into me? Or perhaps I should ask, what do I want to get into me? There I go again.

We returned to the podium, where we stood watching the clock and sipping our drinks.

"You described an interesting session with Becca this morning."

"More than interesting," I added. "I believe it was the turning point in her treatment."

"Why?"

"Because I made a major breakthrough with her. With all the different hurdles to overcome in a therapeutic relationship, trust can either be diminished or enhanced at any stage. And everything is based on trust." I couldn’t read his reaction.

"That’s a given."

"When I led Becca back to the scene in her family room, she could have just as easily reacted with fright as with curiosity. I took a calculated risk. I was lucky she didn’t end the therapy right then and there."

"As you said."

"After the session, Becca was hooked. She had broken through her self-recrimination and guilt. Even though she still didn't know how daunting her memories were, at least she realized they had happened to a scared and wounded child. This brought out her maternal protectiveness, and helped her to see what she had been afraid of all those years had been done by an innocent part of herself. This made it much less threatening."

He listened with furrowed brow. "Then you’re going to tell us she revealed whatever was bothering her in short order?"

"Not exactly." I sipped my coffee, allowed the warm, black liquid to revitalize me for the next part of my presentation. "Just because she was willing to strip away the first layer of defense didn’t mean she was willing to take it all off. I could liken the process to creeping out on a sheet of ice. No one rushes onto it for fear of falling through. Anyone with half a brain takes their time."

He gave me a seductive smile, but all I felt for a second was fear. Silly me, what’s that all about? My cell phone rang, and all I could think was, 'spared by the bell.'

"Could you excuse me? I need to answer this.”

He saluted me. "We’ll continue our conversation over lunch."

I pressed the answer button on my phone while watching him amble off. Lara’s voice greeted me. "What’s the latest on the greatest?"

"Perfect timing. I was just speaking with the object of my insanity the moment you called."

"I’m sorry to interrupt," she said, sounding truly regretful.

"Not at all. Every time I talk to him, I feel like I’m losing control over myself. I might act like a professional, but I feel like a teenager with a crush."

"I know you too well." She chuckled. "I’m sure you’re behaving much more dignified."

"I don’t know. He triggers something in me I didn’t even know existed. I feel like I’m going into the proverbial oven. He’s hot all right, but he may burn me. I’m not sure if he isn’t coming on a little too strong."

"You’re such a worry wart!" she said. "Relax and take things as they come. You don’t have to marry this guy. You’re only going out on a first date."

"Easy for you to say from the vantage point of a committed relationship. I’m the one who should be committed, and I don’t necessarily mean in a relationship, if you catch my gist."

"Remember, Will and I started with a first date, too. Along with raging hormones and commitment phobia. You’re not alone. Everyone goes through the same thing."

I smiled to myself. "You’re right. It’s ordinary, everyday anxiety and nothing more. It’s only that I can’t remember ever feeling this way to this degree, and I’m not sure whether what I feel is anticipation or pure, unadulterated terror."

"It’s both and there’s no way around it, so you might as well go along for the roller coaster ride. It's actually the exciting part of the amusement park we call relationship. Why not let go and enjoy it?"

"I can’t wait for the Big Dipper." I stopped myself. I’d been so caught up in my problems, I hadn’t asked her why she called. "To what can I attribute the pleasure of your call?"

She cleared her throat. "I wanted to know if you were free tomorrow night, and if you could find it in your heart to babysit? Will and I want an early release from parental confinement. Your excitement over this dude has made me see I owe it to myself and my husband to find a way to stimulate our marriage. I thought a date might help us, too."

I thought about how often Lara had been there for me with a ready hand and an open heart. "No problem. If worse comes to worse I’ll bring Adrian along, but I doubt that’ll be necessary after tonight. We’ll be fortunate if we make it through the evening without loathing one another."

I heard Lara sigh. "The eternal optimist. Stop worrying. Be happy."

"Maybe you need me this evening, and I can gracefully bow out of this date."

"You’re not going to use me as an excuse to avoid this man, or any other," Lara said, exasperated. "The earliest you’ll hear from me is tomorrow."

"Thanks a million," I joked. "Just when I need you the most." People wandered back to their seats, indicating break time had come to an end. "I have to go."

"Before you do, I have one last thing to say. It’s not me who you need most. I’m not the one who will let you down. If anyone will, it’s going to be you."

Damn, she was right
. I’ve proven it to myself often enough. Perhaps, if I can generate enough courage, I won’t wimp out for once. It could be different this time. I place my cell phone back in my purse with a shaky hand. Nervous or not, here I come. The time had come to let go of past wounds and take a chance on someone new. I glanced over at Adrian, taking his seat. All at once he looked like the future to me.

Chapter Eleven

Becca lowered the head on Mrs. Wilson’s bed as the old woman had requested. She tucked the sheet under her before withdrawing the thermometer. Harriet Wilson’s fever had hit an all-time high of 102 degrees, and her breathing sounded labored. If she didn’t respond to the antibiotics and her bronchitis worsened, she would have to be transferred to Thomas Jefferson Hospital later in the day.

           
"I’ll be back to check in on you in a few minutes."

           
To prove how sick she was, Harriet didn’t offer her typical argument.

Becca strode directly to the nurses' station where she penned Wilson’s stats into her chart. "I’m worried about Wilson," she announced to Angela over her shoulder. "Her fever refuses to break and she sounds terrible."

Angela stared at her through reddened eyes. Her hair hadn’t been combed, her uniform was creased. She looked uncommonly unkempt.

Worried, Becca asked, "What’s the matter with you?"

Angela shook her head and tears sprang into her eyes. Apparent Angela didn’t wish to discuss her troubles in a public place, Becca coaxed her into an empty conference room at the end of the hall. She took a seat catty-corner to Angela at a long mahogany table.

"I only have a few minutes, but I want to know what’s going on," Becca said.

Angela tried to explain, but tears garbled her words. Becca offered her a box of tissues from a nearby shelf.

"Why don’t you take a second. When you’re ready you’ll have to repeat everything you just said."

Angela sobbed into the tissue. Concerned, Becca hovered over her with an arm around her shoulders, consoling her with reassuring words.

"It’s Elliot, the idiot," Angela sniveled. "It’s difficult to describe what’s going on, but there’s been a change in him. He’s rarely around anymore like he used to be, and when he is, he’s preoccupied and ignores me. I don’t know if he’s met someone new or what’s going on, but something’s changed." She started to cry again. "I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost my appetite, and I haven’t been able to sleep the last couple nights. I even had one of the docs prescribe sleeping pills today."

"Have you asked Elliot what’s going on?"

"If I’ve asked him once, I’ve asked him a dozen times, but I always get the same response. Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s going on. But I don’t believe him. He’s different, I tell you. Distant. It’s not good." She dabbed at tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "He’s breaking my heart."

"He’s a doctor, right?"

Angela nodded.

"Perhaps he’s preoccupied with his work. You know as well as I do the life of an M.D. They’re always busy. Besides, a doctor sees nasty and tragic things. Sometimes they don’t know what to do for a patient who’s suffering. It’s possible he’s just distracted."

Angela drew in a big breath. "You might be right, at least I hope you are. I know he’s told me about a couple of his patients whose stories would upset Ming the Merciless."

"Why don’t you give him a chance and watch what happens without drawing any conclusions. This too might pass, but before it does, you might push him away with your worries and accusations. Give it a little time."

"I haven’t mentioned the strangest thing of all. Remember I mentioned Elliot has asked me about you? Well, he hasn't let up, and he seems annoyed when I don’t know the answer to his questions."

Becca made a face. "Why me?"

"I told you it was odd. I’ve tried not to make too much of his questions, but they keep coming. To tell you the truth, sometimes they seem a little too personal."

This tidbit gave Becca the shivers. "Like what?"

"Like the other night he wanted to know where we went together after work. When I told him we sometimes go shopping, he wanted to know where, and what kinds of things we shopped for—"

"It only shows his interest in you—"

"Yeah, but then he wanted to know the kinds of things you like to buy, you know, perfume, make-up, lines of clothing. It was too much."

The shivers turned to tremors. "Why would he want to know so much about me?"

"Same question I asked him, but he became irritated and mumbled something about wanting to know every detail of my life. This whole thing seems a little off."

"What if you were to take what he said at face value and try not to analyze him? Perhaps he’s telling the truth. Wouldn’t it be a relief to you?"

"Of course, you’re right. I have to let go of all my suspicions. I keep telling myself that, but every time I see him and he treats me with indifference or asks me questions about you, I become more confused and upset."

An idea dawned on Becca. She leaned over the table. "Remember we spoke about all of us getting together? I’d like to meet this guy. It would give me a chance to psyche him out."

Angela rubbed her brow. "Yeah, it might work. I’d like your opinion."

A screechy sound proceeded a voice over the intercom calling for Becca Rosen to go to room 222. Harriet Wilson’s room.

Becca sprang from her seat, but then hesitated. "I have to go, but are you going to be all right?" She didn’t move until she received the go-ahead from Angela, then tore out the door and down the hall.

On her way to Harriet's room, she considered briefly what she had heard. Another chill pulsed through her. She was as suspicious as Angela about Elliot’s intentions. Why the sudden change of heart? And the interest in a total stranger? None of this made much sense. For once, she needed to face the situation head on and meet this man, instead of avoiding an awkward scene. That had been her modus operandi for as long as she could remember. This time she had to learn the truth firsthand.

Drew had asked Becca out for dinner on four or five occasions, but she had put him off because she didn’t want to lead him on. They had any number of long-winded phone conversations during the weeks following their coffee date, and the more she learned about him, the more she admired his integrity and willingness to be of service to others. Liking and respecting him only made it harder to consider letting him down.

The Friday before the holidays he finally convinced her to meet him for a celebratory drink at his favorite watering hole across from his office on Spruce Street. She arrived at the intimate upscale tavern a few minutes early in her most conservative brown suit and matching pumps. She wanted the message to be clear from her packaging—friendship is as far as I’m willing to take this.

Becca took a seat at the oak and brass bar and ordered a white wine. While she waited for Drew, she checked out the black and white velvet brocaded walls and red padded booths. The place looked like a swanky nightclub in a 1940s film, and she almost expected Humphrey Bogart or Ingrid Bergman to waltz through the door. Instead, the customers standing by the bar were downtown professionals in conservative business suits. And when the door opened and let in a blast of frigid air, it became apparent she was far from Casablanca.

The door opened once more, allowing in more cold air and Drew. He combed his fingers through long hair ruffled by the wind. With his jeans and tooled boots, he instantly stood out in the bar. She liked the fact he wasn’t self-conscious or particularly concerned about fitting in with other people. She waved and he came straight over to her.

"Am I late? Have you been here long?"

The bartender set her drink down. "Only a few minutes." She reached in her purse to pay for the drink, but Drew stopped her.

"I’ll take care of it." He pulled a five out of his wallet and slapped it on the counter. "Keep the change, Jim."

Jim looked pleased.

Drew hoisted her drink and coaster. "Let’s find ourselves a table in the back. It’s quieter there."

He led her to a booth where he ordered a Guinness. "You sure are a sight for sore eyes. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. How are you doing?"

"Better." And she meant it this time. "It takes time."

"I bet." He paid the waitress who brought his beer. "Do you want anything to eat?" 

She shook her head and the waitress left.

He sipped his drink "Tell me how your parents are doing."

"Same as always. No major change I can see. How are yours?"

"They’re good. Not that I get to see much of them these days, even though I live close by, but I call them regularly. My practice has started to take off, and I rarely have time to fight traffic to Ardmore any more."

She sat back. "What type of cases?"

"Interesting ones. Yesterday I received a referral for a class action lawsuit against the Cambridge Company of Camden, New Jersey. They have a coal-based generator that is a major polluter in South Camden. The area has had a recent surge in respiratory problems, especially in an elementary school by the plant. It should be an important case."

"You sound excited about it."

He chuckled. "I guess you could put it that way. It’s a real challenge. The company has money up the wazoobees and can hire the best and brightest lawyers around. I’m a little intimidated, but I’ll have a chance to do good for a community that doesn’t have much of a voice."

"How wonderful you’re able to represent them."

"How lucky I am to be asked to help out."

Again he had impressed with his sincerity and humility. What a terrific man! She had never met anyone like him. "Would it sound gauche if I ask how you make any money at this?"

He laughed again and his eyes sparkled with good humor. "Absolutely debased. Actually, I ask myself the same question, only I put it in the future tense. Can I ever make any money at this? I think so, but I’m not in it for the big bucks. Satisfaction and the knowledge I’ve done good is more important to me than my profit margin. I suppose that's hard to understand."

Not at all! Becca thought. What a gem. Listening to him made her regret meeting Evan first, but it was too late. Evan had already stolen his way into her affections. "How do you make a living?"

"Investments. When I worked for the Feds, I put every penny I could into real estate and the stock market. I have a few pennies to live on until my private practice becomes a little less private and impoverished. That’s what gave me enough to buy my townhouse last July."

She cocked her head in a question. "I thought you moved here in September?"

"I did, but I found this terrific place, the price was right, and I bought it before I moved back. You’ll have to come by and see it sometime."

Not in the near future. She didn’t want to start something she couldn’t finish.

He raised his glass and toasted her. "Enough about me. I want to hear more about you."

He continued by asking her details about her work, her friends, and her social life. Later, after their second round of drinks and an appetizer platter, he made her promise she’d join him again for dinner and drinks, but sooner next time. She agreed with greater enthusiasm than she expected, feeling more guilt toward Evan than she expected. Which only confirmed her confusion concerning everything.

While Evan had won a place in her heart, Drew had so much going for him. She found him hard to resist, with his chiseled chin and bushy brows, and she didn’t know if she wanted to. This only demonstrated how unprepared she was for anything more complicated than a friendship. She had fooled herself once into thinking she was ready for a relationship, but now she knew better. At that moment she promised herself she wouldn’t make a commitment to anyone until she was certain about what she wanted. And that might be a long time coming.

"Becca arrived on time to the following week’s session," I explained, "and the first thing she did, after mentioning how much she’d gotten out of the homework assignment, was to declare her decision to recommit to our work. Upon hearing this, I knew I had a time-limited window of opportunity to move Becca deeper into her repressed memory, before her resistance returned.

“Not wishing to get side-tracked and allow the opportunity to pass, I quickly inquired into her readiness to replay the earlier incident in her parents' bedroom, to see if she could attach a face to the man on the bed. I noted how she reacted by bracing herself with a hand on the sofa arm.

"I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Sarah."

"Then lie back," I directed her, "and let’s go there."

I gave her a minute to position herself on the sofa and engage in the relaxation techniques that were part of preparation for the trance work, then instructed her to take herself back to her parents’ bedroom and mentally revisit what had happened. I watched her eyes travel beneath their lids as she visualized the encounter.

"What is it you’re seeing?"

She sighed. "It’s not good... He’s making me touch him...I don’t want to do it...but he won’t let me go...I’m scared...please don’t hurt me..." Her voice sounded meek and childlike.

"Take your hand back and... when you’re ready, look up at the man and tell me who you see."

"I can’t see his face," she wailed. "I want to, but I can’t see him."

"Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you. I won’t let him hurt you. Take a closer look."