Crashing Back Down (23 page)

I think some of it came from needing to get back into the groove of normalcy in some way. Walker’s new tattoo really started to drive the point home that my life was changing, mostly in wonderful ways, but I was never good with change and work was always my constant. I forced myself to get out of bed and dressed for a normal workday, leaving Walker fast asleep as I went to take a shower.

I made a pot of coffee, grabbed my work laptop and started to sift through all of my emails. And that was where I pretty much stayed for the better part of two days. There was a mountain of messages to sift through, tons of calls to make, and too many asses to kiss for me not to feel sick by the end of the day on Tuesday. I had started to look forward to my sessions with Dr. Davenport more and more as they went on.

I was proud of the progress I had been making. Even though I gave most of the credit to myself, I knew the jolt to kick-start all of my newfound confidence, happiness, and ability to cope with my loss, was all in the hands of my pint-sized shrink.

I sat in the freezing waiting room, damning myself for not bringing a jacket with me; finally entertained by a light-hearted romance novel I had shoved in my bag right before I left Liz and Jim’s. It was one that Liz had just finished reading with her new book club and I figured I would give it a try. I was taken off guard that a group of retired women were reading a smutty, new adult novel about a girl who moved half way across the country to run away from her past that ended up following her anyway, but I guess you could never get too old for a great read.

I was enthralled by the main character’s description of her new love interest’s handsome build when an obnoxiously loud bang came from within Candice’s office. I shrilled and bolted for the door while the girl in the reception window cried out to me to not go in. I heard her talking to a dispatch operator, saying there was a gunshot in their office and to send police right away.

Once those words registered, I flung the door open without giving it a second thought. To my horror I had just opened the door onto one of the most gruesome sights I had ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Everything started to get foggy as a panic attack came on.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the back of an ambulance with a paramedic telling me I was safe now, wrapping a blanket around my shivering, wet, sticky body. I looked down at my hands to find a horrific sight of dried blood and the scene all rushed back into my mind. The sight of Candice’s lifeless body slumped over in her chair right across from the spot where I always sat on the couch flooded my mind, and made my eyes sting and water. In the spot that I usually took, was the man with the sunken, sad eyes. He stood with a look of fear, hate and pain plastered on his pale face. All of the times I had seen him shuffle out of Candice’s office, I never thought of him as dangerous or deranged, just a sad-looking man with lifeless eyes.

I was ripped away from my thoughts, by the repeated question, “Miss? May we ask you a few questions? I’m Officer Rogers.”

I finally willed my eyes to focus and made eye contact with a short, plump officer gripping a pad and pen in his hands. He looked at me with sympathetic eyes that I knew all too well from the looks people gave to me once they found out I was a widow. I swallowed while my voice shook. “Y-yes, of c-course. I-I’m Margret McManus. I-I am … uh … was Dr. Davenport’s patient.”

He put a comforting hand on my shoulder and continued, “I need to know everything you saw, Ms. McManus. Whatever you can remember will be helpful.”

I nodded, tears streaming from my eyes. “There was a terribly loud sound that burst through the entire office, and the receptionist said it was a gunshot, so I reacted. Right after I opened the door and the evil, hollow man saw me in the doorway, he briefly aimed his pistol at me, then shot himself in the head and fell onto the couch. I ran to my doctor’s body and wrapped her up in my arms, rocking her until the police arrived, and they pulled me out of the office while I tried to hang onto her, begging them to help her.”

All of the words spilled from my lips without me realizing it. Until that moment, I didn’t even know what had happened. I ended my story with choking sobs and I apologized to Officer Rogers for my hysterics.

Grabbing a hankie out of his pocket, handing it to me. “Thank you, Ms. McManus. Your account is going to be very helpful. Please don’t apologize. What you saw was very traumatic. Is there someone I can call to come and get you?”

I nodded and without realizing it, my mother’s number rattled off my tongue. I was in shock, she was the last person I would have consciously considered as my emergency contact, but there was a little part of me that just wanted the comfort of my mother.

It didn’t take more than ten minutes for my mom’s little silver Prius to come zooming into the crime scene like a bat out of hell. She flew out of the driver’s seat and rushed to my side where one of the paramedics was helping me wash some of the blood off my arms and hands. My mother shrieked when she saw me. “Oh my baby! Are you hurt?!” She shrieked again and the paramedic explained that it wasn’t my blood while my tongue was tied into a million knots.

I couldn’t make eye contact with her still, but I mustered up a fake smile. “Thanks for coming so quickly Mom, I really want to get home and take a shower. I need to wash this appalling sight off of me and out of my mind.”

Surprisingly, my mom did not play twenty questions with me, or even protest in leaving the paramedic’s care without making them do a strip search on me for a just-in-case exam for something they might have missed. All she did was wrap her arm around my waist, hold me, whispering under her breath, “Thank God you’re alright, sweetheart.”

We drove to my house in silence, while I stared blankly out the window. A sigh of relief came over me when I saw Walker’s truck was not in the driveway. I had not gotten around to telling my mom about how my relationship with him had evolved, and I was not prepared to hear the “I knew it. I told you that you two were meant to be together” speech.

We walked into the house, and my mom made a beeline for the kitchen, while I made my way to the stairs to escape into my shower for as long as possible. Once I was halfway up the stairs, my mom called up to me, “Do you want me to stay honey? I could make you and Walker something for dinner.”

It took a second, but it clicked. I turned quickly to face my mom, arms crossed, glaring at her, half-mad, half confused. “What do you mean, me and Walker?”

She looked a little nervous for a second, then fessed up. “I know you two are living together.” Rage started to boil, threatening to spill over.

I fought it back and calmly let only one word escape, knowing if I attempted more, I would lash out hastily and never get the answer. “How?”

“Umm …” I glared at her ready to start screaming when she paused, but I think she saw it first and make the right move to not piss me off at the moment.“I am in the book club with Liz. She assumed I knew about the arrangement, and I never corrected her.”

Before I could freak out completely, the front door crashed open with a panicked Walker standing in the doorway. “Oh Mags, I was so fucking worried, I saw there was a shooting on the news at your doctor’s office, when I got there they didn’t know who you were.” His chest heaved from his deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down. “I was so fucking scared you were hurt.” And with that he was on the stairs next me, hugging my body so tightly into his, making it difficult for me to breathe. My world stopped and my heart started to calm down for the first time since the gunshot pierced my ears.

He looked down at me, pressing his cheek against mine. I smiled pushing him away gently. “I’m alright, just a little shaken up.”

My mom gave a fake cough to remind us that she was there, still standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at us. Walker quickly whipped around. “Thanks for bringing Mags home, Elena.”

My mom smiled warmly, with an eyebrow raise that tempted my temper to flare again. “Not a problem, Walker. Well, my work here is done. Margret, I will call you in the morning to check on you.”

Thankful she was leaving so easily, I agreed and thanked her for being there for me. Once the door was shut behind my mom, Walker picked me up and carried me right into the shower. “I figured you would want to clean up a little bit, babe. I’ll just be right outside if you need me.” Walker reached in and turned the water on to warm up, kissed me on the cheek and went into my room. I could hear the TV drone from behind the closed door. A sense of relief came over me knowing Walker was so close, ready to jump into action at any moment to protect me.

I made the mistake of looking into the mirror before getting ready to hop in the shower. My hair was matted with blood from the tips up about five inches. My right cheek had a few blood streaks running across it, and both of my arms and hands had a faint residue of crimson, as did my shirt and the top of my jeans. I was a ghastly sight, and the horrors started to replay in my head. Over and over I was rocking my therapist’s motionless body in my arms; hot, sticky blood pouring out of her chest and all over me.

Making my way under the hot water, I sat on the floor and held myself for as long as the water stayed scalding. Every now and then, I scrubbed my entire body as hard as I could with my loofah. I cried out loud, screamed, thrashed, and trembled.

I remained motionless, dipping wet, even after I turned off the water, until a gentle tapping came from the door. Without waiting for my response, Walker came into the bathroom with a big fluffy towel and a glass of red wine, setting the wine on the counter and wrapping the towel around my body as he helped me out of the shower. The warmth from the fluffy fabric sent goose bumps all over my chilled body. “Walker this is so sweet of you!”

He rubbed his hands over my body to help the towel dry me off. “It’s always comforting to have a right-out-of-the-dryer towel.”

 The Walker I always had seen was a jerk most of the time, with gentleman-like undertones. I had no idea how amazingly romantic, thoughtful and caring he truly was. It almost made me feel bad for never peeling back the layers of his personality until now, but I just chalked it up to it being better late than never.

I took the wine from the counter and got dressed in the comfiest pair of pajamas I could find. Ever since Walker moved in, I stopped wearing Randy’s old clothes and started wearing my lounge pants and tank tops to sleep. I didn’t think it was respectful to either of the men for me to don Randy’s clothes in bed with Walker. It became another small victory for me though. Sleeping in Randy’s clothes always helped me feel like he was still curled up close to me at night. It was one less thing I relied on him for.

We crawled into bed, sipping on wine with the TV on for background noise. He did not pressure me to talk about what had happened. We sat for the most part in silence, me in his arms, while he stroked my side gently with his fingertips until I was lulled into a peaceful sleep.

F
or a little over a week, I was in zombie mode again. I had repeated nightmares of the horrific murder of my therapist. Even though she had only been in my life for a short period of time, Candice Davenport had become very influential, instrumental, and important to my healing process and my newfound happiness. It was just one more setback my mind could not seem to deal with.

Even though I begged them not to, the guys postponed their fishing trip so

Walker and Jim could stay and help take care of me. I took the rest of the week off work, using the time to lock myself in my house, eat junk food, and hang out with Walker.

Luckily, he was good at being silent, caring and doting. I was so thankful he was there. Every night he held me while my nightmares took over, waking me up in panics and sobs. He would rock me to sleep in his strong, protective arms, stroking my hair, kissing my cheeks and whispering that everything was going to be alright. He always made it a point to remind me that he would never let anything hurt me,

A little too fast, Monday morning rolled around again, signaling the first day back to work. I rolled over to crack my eyes just enough to see that my clock on the nightstand said I had two more hours to sleep, but my body was saying otherwise. The stab of longing for my late husband hit my heart when I remembered the dream I had about him. Between the two of us, Randy was the more romantic one, and loved to surprise me as often as he could. I had dreamt about one morning when he woke up me up with a bouquet of long stem red roses and instructed me to get dressed.

Randy had called me out of work sick before I had even woken up so I wouldn’t feel guilty about playing hooky, saying, “Well, what’s done is done. It would be a waste to not take advantage of it.” We ended up driving to the historic district of St. Augustine, and ran around the old city exploring. He had made reservations at an upscale restaurant on the water and a beautiful suite at a historical hotel. For no particular reason, he showed me time and time again how much he cared about me.