His office sported the expected framed diplomas, citations and honors. There was a coffee cup on a saucer and a picture of an older woman taken by a professional who obviously believed every hint of uniqueness should be airbrushed away. There were no pictures of children or grandchildren. The furniture was comfortable and slightly worn. The chair matched the sofa. The phone had six lines. His desk calendar was open and the pages Josie could see were covered with notes. On the bookshelf she had counted three tomes that carried his name. He was a busy man, but not too busy to see her. Grace's name had been magic, his calendar had cleared.
''I wish you'd come to me about anyone else,'' he said finally. ''I had so hoped she was well - truly well - instead of hiding her illness behind her amazing discipline.''
''Maybe you shouldn't have cut her loose,'' Josie suggested and then told Doctor Wharton everything from the way she met Grace to the car Grace used as a weapon.
''Oh, my poor Grace,'' he muttered as his hands unclasped for a moment. ''I would never have let her go if I thought she was still so sick. I'm so sorry that happened to you. But I assure you, she meant no harm. Grace simply wanted to escape. She can do such harm sometimes and not mean it.''
''She's been violent before?''
''I'm not so sure I should answer that. I was her doctor. She is not dead and so I would imagine that the doctor/patient privilege would still attach,'' Doctor Wharton speculated.
''I'll take care of it. I had permission to speak to a doctor in Los Angeles and I can argue that extends to all of Grace's physicians.''
''I have a lot to lose, Ms. Bates,'' he warned.
''So does Grace McCreary,'' Josie replied.
''Well, put,'' Doctor Wharton said before he told Josie the story of Grace McCreary. ''She was a teenager when we met. I was head of the psychiatric unit at the University of California San Francisco Medical Center. It didn't take long for me to understand that I had an opportunity to learn a great deal about the human spirit. Grace was my post doctoral work in a manner of speaking. You'll find her in the pages of that book.'' He pointed toward the shelf. ''But it wasn't just professional curiosity that kept me with her. I liked Grace. She was a lovely girl. Exotic. Quite beautiful.''
''Grace doesn't think so,'' Josie said.
Doctor Wharton laughed, ''Heavens no. Grace thought she was quite ugly. There was a time that Grace believed her mother died willingly because she couldn't bear being mother to such an ugly child.''
''That's frightening,'' Josie murmured.
''That was the least of her problems. A mere blip on the screen. . .'' He stopped. ''But, I'm getting ahead of myself here. So sorry. I spent a year with Grace and then she left my care. She actually went away without saying goodbye.''
''Did you try to find her?'' Josie asked.
''It wasn't my place,'' Doctor Wharton said, ''but I gave Matthew the benefit of my insights. I thought it might help in his search.''
''Was he concerned?''
''Oh, very. Grace had acted out horribly after they were orphaned. She destroyed things that belonged to their parents. She was awful to Matthew's friends. Finally, he sent her to a girl's school but she would run away and he'd find her lurking around the business or their home.''
''Why would she have to do that? I mean, why did Grace have to sneak around her own house?''
''Because Matthew was trying tough love. He knew that she needed structure in her life that he couldn't provide. It was difficult for him to send her away, but he did,'' Doctor Wharton explained. ''Remember, Matthew was barely eighteen when the mother and father died. He had a business to run, his own grieving to do and Grace to take care of. That would be a load for an adult, but Matthew was barely a man and he was a perfectionist. He was determined to take care of everything, including his sister. In the end it was a brave, loving thing he did when he sent Grace away.''
''Didn't the family have friends?' Josie asked. ''Didn't the parents designate guardians in their will?''
''The McCreary's were probably no older than you when they died. I'm sure they felt immortal like all of us do at that age. They had a will but it dealt with the business and their financial affairs. It probably never occurred to them to appoint guardians. So, when the parents passed, the law said Matthew was old enough to be Grace's guardian. I've never been so impressed by a young person. He did all he could.''
''But it wasn't enough,'' Josie suggested.
''No. Had the McCrearys died a year or two earlier I don't think Grace would have experienced such devastating problems.''
''What would have been different?''
''There would have been adults to take the two of them in hand. Matthew could have grieved to the fullest extent and grown more gradually into his responsibilities. An executor would have seen to the business. They both would have been children and Matthew, especially, would have been given permission to act as a child. He could have clung to Grace instead of suddenly being set above her by virtue of his age and legal standing. Sometimes, Ms. Bates, the law does not do us any favors.''
''That is the truth, doctor,'' Josie acknowledged. ''But are you saying that Matthew somehow caused Grace's mental decline?''
''No, no. Physically Grace was predetermined to experience some difficulties. Her depression is a chemical imbalance and handled by medication. She was fanatical about taking it when she was very young. Unfortunately, in the years between the first time I saw Grace and the last time, she abandoned her medication. I'm afraid the experience of those intervening years left her quite shaken. She made bad personal decisions that influenced her propensity toward paranoia and self-loathing. It took us a long while to bring her to a balanced position. ''
''Let's go back. Why would she destroy things that belonged to her parents?''
''She took an irrational responsibility for her parent's deaths and didn't want to be reminded of them. It wasn't so much her father though. Grace never was quite sure how she felt about women – including her own mother. She pretended her mother meant nothing to her yet she kept that one picture. She wore her mother's ring - an emerald that was far too large for a young girl. She never took it off''
''She has now. Grace threw it away in the trash,'' Josie told him.
''Are you sure?'' Doctor Wharton's brow beetled. ''That ring meant the world to her. Matthew put it on his sister's finger himself. If what you're telling me is true, then Grace is trying to completely break from her family and that puts her in a very dangerous place.''
''How so?'' Josie asked.
''When Matthew washed his hands of her the first time Grace became self destructive. She lived with awful men. She abused drugs. She returned to the house one day and found Matthew there with a young woman. Grace attacked her. Matthew paid off the woman and told Grace to get out of his life for good. I couldn't blame him. The instinct for self-preservation is a powerful thing and Grace wanted all of him. She wanted to be the center of his universe the way he was the center of hers.''
''I don't get it. Why didn't Grace attack Matthew if she felt betrayed?''
''Because in Grace's mind women are always at fault. Yet Grace is intelligent and her intelligence saves her. She sought me out years later, motivated to get well, to leave behind the self-destructive life she had created.'' Doctor Wharton stood up and shrugged into a well worn coat. ''Do you mind if we walk, Ms. Bates?''
They went down the hall of the administrative wing of Emile Wharton's hospital and Josie saw that peace of mind didn't come cheap. In Grace's case it never came at all. Doctor Wharton held the door for her. They stepped out into a beautiful afternoon. Josie buttoned her blazer and stuck her hands deep in her pockets against the unaccustomed cold. They turned off the brick path onto a dirt one that ran through an expanse of grass gone brown. Doctor Wharton kept his eyes down and didn't share her appreciation of their surroundings.
''When she came back to me Grace was still dealing with her survivor's guilt, the abandonment issues, her search for security and identity, her pain of what she perceived as rejection by Matthew. She did understand her destructive bent.''
''Understanding isn't acceptance though,'' Josie pointed out.
''Especially not in Grace's case. The first time I treated her, I didn't look beyond the surface. When Grace came back to my care as an adult she was more articulate and I finally understood the subtly of her disturbance.
''You see, when she was orphaned Grace's personality was unformed, she hadn't explored her sexuality. She was stuck in a pre-pubescent mire of self-doubt and loathing. Matthew moved on while Grace was paralyzed with fear; he coped while she continued to cling. This was not mental illness, this world view was inherent in her personality. No matter what action Grace takes – especially if it is decisive – she will always second guess herself.''
''By that reasoning she should be turning herself in to the police right about now,'' Josie noted ruefully.
''Not necessarily,'' he warned. ''Did she make the decision to run on her own or did she have help?''
''She had help,'' Josie said.
''The person who helped her, was it a man?''
Josie nodded. They had reached the trees. A sharp wind turned her ears icy. Doctor Wharton picked up a seed pod, examined it then set it back where he had found it. He took a deep breath of the fresh air.
''The only move Grace feels comfortable with is the one made with the approval of a man, Ms. Bates.''
''If that qualifies as a mental disorder, then I know a lot of women who are sick,'' Josie laughed.
''Not in this way, Ms. Bates.'' The doctor walked on and Josie stuck close. ''Grace's specific illness takes this sense of dependency to the extreme. Her problem crosses the line between social difficulty and psychological impairment.''
''Meaning what?''
''When Grace came back to me she had been in dozens of abusive relationships: mental, physical, fiduciary. Men took advantage of her because she was so willing to believe that they had her best interests at heart. She was always looking for another Matthew. In her heart of hearts, Grace McCreary is one of the sweetest women I have ever met. She would do anything for the person she perceived honestly cared for her. Anything.''
''And that included men who abused her,'' Josie mused.
''For Grace the line between admiration and love, between trust and blind acceptance blurs until it is nonexistent. Grace suffers from a delusional type of paranoid disorder called erotomania.''
Josie stopped. Doctor Wharton touched another pod with the toe of his shoe. He pushed at his glasses as he studied a leaf. He talked.
''Those inflicted with this disorder idealize romantic love and spiritual union. It is a sense that there is a higher commitment than the normal love. These feelings are traditionally directed toward a famous person, a superior, someone who has an established reason to be highly admired. The self can be completely lost to this adoration.''
''And Grace chose the men in her life based on these ideas?''
''Worse, Ms. Bates. Grace chose the men in her life in opposition to her erotomania. She understood it before I did. She was running from it, choosing men who gave her no reason to admire them. Indeed, she chose men who gave her every reason to hate them.''
Doctor Wharton put his hands in his jacket and hunched against the brisk breeze that kicked up. He noted Josie's blazer. They were on the move again heading back to the hospital.
''It was Matthew she idealized and no one could live up to her perception of him. When he rejected her through frustration or anger or a desire to live his own life, Grace couldn't bear it and fled. But she was pathologically drawn to Matthew again and again. There was no Grace without Matthew.''
''I can't even imagine,'' Josie mused. ''It must have been hell for both of them.''
''It is the psychological equivalent of stalking.'' Doctor Wharton said. ''Matthew's fear of Grace warred with his sense of responsibility to her. Grace was frightened because she couldn't control the overwhelming sense of admiration she felt for Matthew. She had to be near him every minute or everyday.''
''Then what was she looking for with all those men?'' Josie asked.
''A way to control herself. If Grace could care about someone who wasn't anything like Matthew, then she would be able to control her disorder.'' Doctor Wharton kicked at a stone. It landed in Josie's path. She kicked it back as she listened. ''Grace called me for approval to see Matthew when he contacted her. I gave it. Matthew was married and Grace was excited about having a sister-in-law. I didn't mean for her to insinuate herself into their lives. I meant for her to see him, come to terms with their relationship and continue with the life she was establishing for herself.''
''But when she saw Matthew she fell back into the same old trap of this erotomania?'' Josie asked.
''Actually, no,'' Doctor Wharton said thoughtfully. ''I only spoke to her once after they reunited. She seemed to view him in a much more reasonable manner. Grace knew he wasn't perfect. She understood his failings and forgave them. She recognized him for the man he was – frailties and all.''
''But. . .'' Josie urged him on though he was reluctant to finish the story.
''But there was someone else Grace spoke of. Someone in a position of authority who was close to Matthew. Poor Grace had simply transferred her feelings from one person to another.''
''Tim Douglas,'' Josie said.
''Oh, no. Michelle McCreary,'' he corrected. ''Imagine that. A woman.''
CHAPTER 41
Josie didn't cry at Susan O'Connel's funeral. Neither did the women from the halfway house. Faye was dry eyed and Hannah was cried out. The only woman who wept stood apart, dressed in an ill-fitting suit; her hair was striped in chunky highlights done on the cheap. That woman was Susan's best friend from her old life and Josie had no sympathy. She hadn't bothered to help Susan while she was alive and all the tears in the world weren't going to help now. Josie hoped the woman remembered this day if she ever had another friend like Susan O'Connel.