Compulsive (Liar #1) (3 page)

Her face turned to something I couldn’t read. Annoyed possibly.
She was in a hurry, but my life hung in the balance. “This includes doctors I
felt would be best for you, but also those who were willing to take you on.”

“Dr. Harrison said no?”

“There are plenty of choices for you on that list, Gray.
Take some time to look it over, and call me if you have questions.”

When she closed the door behind me, I stalled in the
hallway, staring at Dr. Harrison’s closed door. Had I been too crazy for him? Or,
was it that I wasn’t classy enough to sit in his sophisticated shrink suite? I
strode to his door and raised my fist to knock. Who was I kidding?

Back at my car, I tossed the paper onto the floor and
climbed inside. It didn’t matter if Freud made that list. I wasn’t going to
talk to any of them. She should have made it easy and picked someone. But I had
felt…comfortable with Dr. Harrison. Something about him set me at ease. Maybe
in time I’d be able to…

I flicked on the radio. None of that mattered, because
he wasn’t on the list, and I was too chicken shit to knock on his door and ask
why.

--------------------------

17 years earlier…

Noah sat patiently in his booster seat at the table waiting for his
cake. Dad had gone to get it while Grandma secured a circus animals bib on Noah.
Aunt Becca and Aunt Barb stood on each side like annoyed bookends. Dad had told
Grandma that seventeen was too old to still be dressing like twins. Even I knew
that at the age of eight. Their faces didn’t look like they were at a birthday
party. That was standard for them anyway, but Dad and Grandma had the same look
on their faces then, too. I wondered if those were the faces that Noah would
get at every birthday for the rest of his life. It didn’t seem fair that his special
day had to be both a happy day and a sad day. I thought that was why Dad let me
pick out the cake at the store. Noah was too little. He probably hadn’t even
known it was his birthday. But I knew what that day meant.

When Dad turned around holding the cake with the lit
candle, Grandma started to sing. The rest of us joined in, staring at Noah as
he stared at the cake with the flaming ‘Number One’ inching toward him. My eyes
left the birthday boy quickly, more interested in everyone else’s faces. I
needed to see if they were truly happy or only pretending. I tired of looking
at pretend happy faces. I tired of everyone looking at Noah with tears in their
eyes. At least I made sure that Noah had one person who gave him real smiles. They
all thought I was too young to notice, but I noticed everything after that day.
I noticed how Dad lost the light in his eyes. How he appeared tired all the
time and hardly ever played with me anymore. Grandma had said things would get
better soon.

Noah dug deliriously into the cake with his hands
while Grandma took pictures of him covered in blue and white frosting. I didn’t
even care that I wouldn’t get a piece. Noah was smiling and that was all that
mattered to me. He stuck his pudgy arm out at me. I curled my fingers around
his and licked some of the frosting off.

“Noah, honey. Look this way,” Grandma said.

Five minutes later, my twin aunts had lost interest
and had already gone to the living room to watch TV. That’s all they ever did,
besides talk about boys, even though neither of them had ever had a boyfriend.

Grandma looked at the pictures she’d taken and
whispered to the screen, “Oh, God…you look just like Sara in this one.”

Dad pulled a beer out of the refrigerator, but Grandma
sighed and looked down her nose at him. He put it back and slammed the door
shut.

“Should he open his presents now?” I asked, hoping
that brought everyone some happiness.

Noah raised his cake-layered limbs toward his gifts on
the table. “This…this.”

It was my fault he used that word for just about
everything he wanted. I couldn’t stand to hear him cry…probably because I could
tell Dad hated it, too, but for a different reason. So I’d made a habit of running
around desperately pointing to things asking “This? This?” to see what he
wanted. Pleasing Noah had become my full-time job.

I pushed the pile of presents closer to him while Grandma
washed him with a damp dish towel.

“Daddy, do you want me to help him open them?” I
asked.

He nodded. “Sure, honey.” His thin frame leaned
against the counter as he watched with his arms folded across his chest and one
hand reaching toward his mouth. He rubbed across the short hairs on his cheeks
and chin like he was thinking about something else.

I handed each gift to Noah and helped him rip into
them while Grandma snapped more pictures. I had pushed mine to the back, so it
would be opened last, sure it would be the best present of all. That morning, Grandma
had told me not to feel jealous about Noah getting a bunch of presents and attention.
I didn’t understand what she was talking about.

I reached for the final item and handed it to Noah.
“Gentle,” I said, holding the corner of it. We both pulled the paper off, and I
heard Dad’s feet shuffle over. The cherry wood frame held a picture of Mom, the
same hazel eyes as Noah and I had, sparkling beneath a slight squint from the
sun. I peered up at my dad, pride swelling in my chest. “Grandma helped me pick
the frame,” I said.

His eyes glazed over as he took in the image. His
finger reached out and touched the outside edge of her face framed by the same
thick brown hair as I had. I watched him as he stood frozen like that, my smile
fading with every second.

A hand grasped the frame and gently pulled it from the
three of us. “It’s beautiful, Gray,” Grandma said, reaching out and squeezing
my hand.

“I think it’s time for Noah’s nap,” Dad said, rubbing
his face again.

“It’s his birthday, Daddy. Not yet.” I had reserved my
demands for things that were important to me, thinking someday they’d be all
used up. But today seemed like a good day for one.

“Sure. That’s fine,” Dad said. He lifted Noah out of
his booster while Grandma straightened the table and watched him out of the
corner of her eye, the same way she watched me. Did she think we couldn’t take
care of Noah? Was it because she thought we hadn’t taken care of my mom? “Happy
Birthday, Son,” Dad said, pulling Noah to his chest.

Grandma and I caught each other staring and smiling.
She nodded and winked at me. Then, she turned to call toward the living room.
“Girls…make yourselves useful and come clean up these dishes.” I wondered if Grandma
knew I’d be secretly happy they didn’t get to watch TV anymore.

Becca got herself out of kitchen duty by offering to
push Noah and me on the swings in the backyard.

“Aunt Becca, do you have a boyfriend?” I asked, even
though I already knew the answer.

“Hush your mouth, baby mama.”

That’s what they called me when Grandma wasn’t around,
but it didn’t bother me.

After she got bored, she left us on a big blanket on
the grass, playing with some of his new toys. I’d told everyone ahead of time
to get Noah presents to help him learn. Mom always told me how smart I was, and
I didn’t want Noah to end up a dummy.

Sitting across from me, I took his little finger and
pressed the A on the frog’s belly. “A says a,” it sang.

“See, that’s an A,” I added when the song ended. He
picked up the frog, practically as big as he was, and tried to hug it. I set
the frog back down and tried a couple more letters, but he only wanted to hug
it. Becca had said he was too young for the toy before she walked off. Maybe
she wasn’t as dumb as I’d thought.

I decided to try the pointing game we’d often played.
“Where’s the swing?”

He pointed to the swing with a slobbery grin.

“Where’s Noah?”

He put the palm of his little hand on his tummy.

“You know,” I said, glancing up to the sky. “Mommy is
here for your birthday. You see…the sky is Gray.”

He copied me and looked up, making me feel happy and
proud. “Yes, good. And where is mommy, Noah?”

He pointed at me like he often did.

“No, I’m not Mommy. I’m Gray. Where’s Mommy?”

He just looked at me.

“Can you give Mommy a kiss?”

He pursed his slippery lips and wrinkled his brow. I
took his hand, brought two fingers to his lips, and made a kiss sound. “Mwaa.” Then,
I raised his hand to the sky.

--------------------------

Of the all places for Dr. Harrison to end up, that was the last place I
wanted it to be. Maybe one of his crazies had OD’d and had been rushed to the emergency
room. It was Friday afternoon, and I’d trailed Dr. “Bullets Bounce Off My Chest”
Harrison all the way from his office parking lot to St. Helena Hospital in Napa
Valley. I hadn’t planned to add stalker to the already long list of my mental
deficiencies. My intention was to go to his office and explain to him in an
extremely professional and rational manner that he must take me on as a
patient. I think a small part of me, hidden away, had to know why he wasn’t on
the referral list. Had he refused me, or did Dr. Wallace not want me to see him
for some reason? Whatever had happened, I’d convinced myself that this time I
would take it seriously. I’d almost lost my job, I’d slept with a total
stranger, and worst of all, Nathan had almost walked out of my life completely.
So this was it. And my best shot was not another Dr. Wallace clone. There was
something different about Dr. Harrison that drew me to him in a way that made
me believe there was a chance I could open up to him.

The good doctor continued to sit in his car, a black,
two-door sporty looking thing in which I pictured him driving his tall, skinny
date to the opera. A long leg finally extended out of the door, and he emerged,
glancing aimlessly back in my direction. He hadn’t noticed me, but chills broke
out on my arms.

I got out and followed his path, picking up my pace so
I wouldn’t be too far behind. Once inside, he seemed to have a predetermined
destination as he bypassed the nurses’ station. I noticed he gave them a quick
wave and a smile, the two women responding in a way that showed he’d been there
before. A certain giddiness flashed in the smile of the younger woman who kept
her eyes on his departure a bit too long.

I quickly turned my sight from them in case they were
to ask me if I required assistance. Dr. Harrison turned down a corridor to the
left; I slowed to protect my position. My heart rate increased at the thought
of him turning and seeing me. A ridiculous fear, given that my intention had
been for him to eventually see me.

When the hallway came to end with two paths heading in
different directions, he took a right. I stopped, leaning against the wall. The
sign on the wall where he’d turned also had an arrow going left with the words
“Maternity Ward” written above. A place that signified life, hope, and happiness
for so many people every day, ironically meant something entirely opposite to
me. For a moment, I saw myself, seven years old, sitting next to Grandma
crying, her arm wrapped around me, pressing me into her side. No sounds had
escaped her, but her body vibrated, convulsing beside mine. She’d tried to hide
her pain from me, because that’s what you do when you love someone. You don’t
let them see you sad or hurt. You push it down or lock it away and never let it
out no matter how hard it pounds on the door.

“Can I help you with something?” a male orderly said,
walking slowly by.

“No, thank you.”

He smiled, continuing on in the direction I needed to
go. He made the same right Dr. Harrison had, so I waited a bit before heading
that way. My uncertain steps took me around the corner, but I slowed, even
further regretting the whole plan. He hadn’t seen me. Who knew if he’d even
recognize me if he did? Turning back was still an option.

A young man in torn jeans and white T-shirt pulled an
IV pole, approaching me with a hard stare. It hit me when he was steps away
that I had been gazing in his direction contemplating my next move.

“You lost, Dorothy?” he said when my eyes found his.

I blinked and drew in a breath surprised by not only
him but his condition. His eyes were sweet, but tired and sallow. “Oh, no…I’m
fine.” My voice came out louder than I’d planned and echoed around us. Up ahead,
Dr. Harrison approached a door. His head turned to me, and then after glancing
back toward the door, he did a double take. Our eyes met, spiking gooseflesh on
the back of my neck.
Busted
. Recognition flashed across his face for a few
beats before someone got his attention, directing him into the room.

The young man nodded, shuffling on his way. I stood,
immobile, in the middle of a waiting area that appeared to be connected to a
treatment wing. An older woman in a floral print dress walked arm in arm with a
nurse over to a row of specialized recliner chairs. Suddenly, my presence felt
invasive…wrong. Whatever brought Dr. Harrison there was none of my business. I
turned, heading back the way I came, heat flushing my skin. My feet stalled
when I reached the maternity ward, then somehow, kept going straight instead of
making the turn to reach the exit.

A woman up ahead riding in a wheelchair rested her
hands with care on her extended belly while a small child skipped merrily
beside her. The girl wore a denim skirt with white leggings underneath. Her
long brown hair was twisted into a braid, and when it flew to the side as she whipped
her head back to me, my heart sank. I gaped at the vision of my younger self,
smiling, lit with excitement over the arrival of my new baby brother. Shallow
breaths struggled in and out of my lungs as I watched her.

I sped up to gain a better view of the woman whose
familiar thick brown hair shadowed her face. What I would have given to see her
one more time. To feel her arms around me, rubbing my back and telling me I was
her beautiful Gray. The nurse pushing the woman turned into a room before I
caught up. The little girl shrugged with a shy grin before disappearing into
the same room, leaving me struggling to calm my breathing. When will the ghosts
of my past cease to haunt my present?

“Excuse me.” The deep voice slid in my ear from a
presence I sensed inches behind me.

I turned to find Dr. Harrison looking down on me with an
ominous expression, his midnight blue eyes darkening. My hesitation was so
miniscule I was sure he hadn’t caught it. Considering my current state, I
marveled at how quickly I pulled myself together. “Yes.” I raised my eyebrows
and feigned confusion.

“Miss…Gray was it?”

“Yes, I’m Gray.” I gave him a surprised, welcoming
smile. “Oh, Dr. Harrison. Nice to see you again.”

He glanced around us and then back to me as if the
answer to whatever question plagued him would materialize from the air. “I thought
that was you I saw back in—”

“It’s crazy to run into you here,” I interrupted. “My
neighbor sprained her ankle stepping off a curb.”

“And she’s here…in the maternity ward?”

I almost laughed at this curve ball, but I had no
problem swinging. “Yeah. She’s only a few weeks along, but they tend to be
cautious, so they’re keeping her overnight.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, taken aback and running a
hand over his jet-black hair. “I guess I was mistaken….”

“She’s fine. Just a little scraped up and frazzled.
Could have been worse if she’d stepped in front of that bus.” I observed his
face as he took in my words, trying to keep up. “I heard it could have gone
either way, you know. Lucky for her, she fell backwards instead of forwards.”

His brows pulled together like two conspirators. Then,
he smiled and turned his head to the side as if his pleasure was not to be
seen. “Well, I won’t keep you,” he said, looking back at me. “Good to see you
again.” He stepped away, pulling the phone from his pocket and tapping it a few
times.

What the hell was I waiting for? Clark had thrown my
plan out of whack. Now, my heart raced for a different reason. I loathed
playing defense. So, I stepped up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Dr. Harrison?”

He turned.

“Could I speak to you for a moment?”

He eyed me suspiciously and then looked at his phone
again. “I suppose I have a little time.” He looked to the opposite side of the
hospital. “Coffee?”

I followed him to a small cafeteria where we slid
through the empty line, each grabbing our own coffee and paying separately
after I refused his offer. We found a little wobbly table near the entrance. He
pulled out my chair and then sat across from me.

“So, Miss Gray, what can I do for you?” His eyes
poured over me as if he were about to dig into a fascinating novel.

I leaned forward in my chair, resting my elbows on the
table. “Well…first, you can get my name right. It’s Gray. Just Gray.”

His eyes widened. “I apologize. I recall you mentioned
another name when we first met…Sky, I believe.” The confidence in his tone
beefed up at his recollection. “That must be where the confusion started.”

“You’re right. I should apologize too then. Sky is my
middle name.”

He paused and then smiled, turning his head to the
side as he’d done before. Before he could say anything, I spoke again. “Yes, my
name is Gray Sky…Donovan.”

He brought his attention back to me. “That’s
very…unique.”

I sipped my coffee while I took a moment to examine
his features. His black hair was short and stylish, smooth above his ears but
wavy as it moved toward the top. While he was clean shaven when I saw him in
the office, now he sported a light shadow of facial hair. His midnight blue
eyes, upon further inspection, were dotted with tiny flecks of warm light as if
some inner beam pulsed to escape, and I got lost in them before pulling the cup
from my lips.

A chill skimmed across my skin, and I set the coffee
down onto the table to rub my arms. Damn hospitals were always so cold.

“That tetanus shot acting up?” he said, deadpan.

I stopped rubbing and froze for a second. I couldn’t
hold back a grin. “No, I’m just cold,” I said, challenging him.

He nodded. “So,
Gray Sky
, what is the story
behind the name?”

I ran my fingers through my hair and looked sideways
at him. “Who said there’s a story? It’s possible my parents were hippy freaks.”

He gaped at me over his coffee cup, deciding. “Okay,
so what can I do for you, Miss, I mean, Gray?” He leaned back, his expression
wavering between interest and impatience.

I wondered if he’d bought that answer, or he just
didn’t care, but I wanted to keep his interest. And, for some reason, I
suddenly felt the compulsion to tell him what he wanted to know. “My mom told
me this story about my name...and somehow it always stuck with me.”

He narrowed his eyes in anticipation.

“She said the day she went into labor a storm was
coming, the sky filled with dark brooding clouds. My father drove her in the
middle of the night to the hospital, and just as they were assigned a room, the
sky unloaded. Thunder and lightning boomed and collided with the moans and
cries of my mother in labor. When I was born, the storm had been moving away.
She said she thought the clouds brought me. Maybe she was a hippie freak, but
she was also a beautiful loving person.” I’d been looking at a spot on the wall
beyond his head while speaking that whole time. His fervent face came into
focus as he leaned forward and something plunged into my gut. That story had
spilled out of me exactly once in my life, when I told Nathan after a night of
margaritas. Now, my whole being had felt exposed and vulnerable. As I caught
his eyes connecting with mine, I blew out a breath and looked away. “Anyway…she
named me Gray Sky because she said…even a gray sky can bring you something
beautiful.”

I grabbed my cup and looked down at it, away from his
penetrating gaze. After a moment, I glanced up. He smiled, turning his head to
the side once again. He may have been analyzing me, but I had this guy’s number.
He was already giving away his tell. I needed something to regain my footing.

We sat staring at each other, comfortably, not in an
awkward way. Then, he said, “That’s really an incredible story. Very…telling.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He pulled his eyes away and picked up his phone, concentrating
on the screen. “Uh…Listen, I’m going to need to—”

“I’d like to ask you a question,” I said quickly. “As
you know, Dr. Wallace is leaving town, and I had previously been seeing her.”
As soon as I let that slip, I realized it wasn’t what I’d told him before. Another
disadvantage to being a liar: It wasn’t always easy to keep track. His eyebrows
rose as he tilted his head to the side. “Anyway,” I continued. “She gave me a
list of doctors I could choose from to continue my…to continue with. And I was
wondering why you weren’t on the list.”

“Do you have the list with you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“What I can tell you is that I respect Dr. Wallace,
and I’m sure whomever she selected for that list must have been doctors she
felt would be best for you.”

My eyes rolled, and I sipped my drink.

“You don’t agree?”

I tilted my head and shot him confirmation with my expression.

“Are you saying you don’t trust Dr. Wallace’s judgment?”

“What I’m saying is that Dr. Wallace and I just
didn’t…click. I can’t afford to end up with someone she thinks would be good
because they’re probably exactly like her.”

He furrowed his brow and took a deep breath. “I’m
sorry, I don’t understand. ‘Exactly like her’?”

“Look, Dr. Harrison, what’s the big deal? I need a
doctor. You’re a doctor. Shouldn’t I get to pick who I want to see?”

He appeared unfazed by the change in my demeanor. “That
makes sense and is true to a point. The problem is that…I’m not taking on any
new patients at this point.”

“Oh. I see.” I couldn’t cover my unexpected
disappointment.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

I held my hand up. “I’m not upset.”

“If you’d like me to take a look at the list, maybe I
can provide some insight.”

“I appreciate that.” In my mind, I’d already ripped up
the list and tossed it. “How about a waiting list?”