Her Dominant Doctor (19 page)

Annie interrupted him. “Thomas, I’m completely fine. Why would you be angry with yourself? I’m proud to have these marks.” She raised her wrist. The redness was still there, but fading.

“No, Annie, it’s not okay with me and I’m trying to resolve the contradiction in my head.” His hand cupped her face. With a feathery touch, he pulled her face up so he could meet her gaze. “I have never felt as strongly for anyone as I do for you. Nothing prepared me for these astounding feelings you have awoken in me. I would lay down my life for you, do anything to protect you.” His eyes were piercing. He paused, laying his head back.

“When I played with subs in the past, I was never bothered if they had abrasions or bruises, provided they consented to temporary marks when we negotiated the scene.” His voice was quiet, reflecting. “Everything is different now, as if my world has tipped on its axis and east is now west, north is now south. I have changed, in a fundamental way, because of you. It’s wonderful and profound.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “That is why I’m so upset. I’m reeling from the cellular change to my being. Oh, God, I’m not making any sense here, am I?”

“Yes, you are. I understand what you are saying. I have the same depth of emotions filling me up and spilling out of me in waves of love for you. That’s what you feel, Thomas. It’s love. But I don’t want you to change. I fell in love with you, every aspect of you, including your dominance. I want to experience what just happened down in your playroom again and again because it made me feel more alive than I have ever been.” Her voice was determined and resolute. “You need to resolve this little conflict looming around inside of your head.” She waved her hand. “I want these florid symbols.” Annie held her wrist up. He winced slightly, but she continued. “These marks are a badge of honor and the result of my devotion to you, my dominant, my Thomas. I’ll wear your marks delighting in the intimacy that we alone shared with one another.” Annie lay her head back down and his arm tightened, pulling her close.

His chest rose and fell in even pace with his breathing. “How do you do that,” he said, astonishment in his voice. “You knew just what I needed to hear. Thank you, my angel.” His lips brushed hers softly. Intimately. The kiss deepened. “You’re my angel. Sent from heaven above.”

It sounded like praise and a prayer. Annie closed her eyes and sent her own prayer of thanks.

Chapter Seven

In the week that followed, Thomas and Annie continued to develop a rhythm and routine that became more comfortable with each passing day. They spent every moment together unless they were working. Two days out of the week, Annie was scheduled to work at the main headquarters of her agency in the city. It was only a few blocks from the hospital so she would walk over and meet Thomas for lunch. Thomas was insistent that Annie text him just before she left her office and again when she returned after their visit. He explained that it was for his peace of mind, as he worried about her walking in the city. She teased, telling him he was being overprotective. He agreed and told her it was his right as her boyfriend and her dominant. Annie secretly loved that he showered her with love and affection. Those secret rendezvous lunch dates were extra special because they felt like stolen moments just for the two of them.

As the weekend approached, Thomas was not happy when Annie told him that she would not be able to spend time with him on Sunday. It was the scheduled day for her monthly trip to visit her mother in the Berkshires.

Thomas wanted to know more about their seemingly ambiguous relationship, querying Annie with benign questions. Her response was always pleasant, but curt, never expounding on the basic details. Knowing that she could not continue to be evasive much longer, Annie asked him to be patient, explaining it was a long and difficult story that would be very emotional for her.

On Sunday, Annie left his house at six o’clock in the morning with a promise to be back by six that evening. Thomas was clearly irritated that Annie was traveling so far alone and parted from him for a twelve-hour stretch. She laughingly teased him, with a reminder that she managed just fine before meeting him and was more than capable of executing the standing appointment without his presence. Annie felt a fission in her heart when he reiterated that she did not need to manage alone any longer, both because she was so grateful for that wondrous truth, but also because she knew he was hurt by her lack of the forthcoming story. Unsettled, they silently declared a truce and enveloped each other in an extended embrace before she left.

As Annie expected, it was a difficult and strained visit with her mother. The three-hour drive out and back was tedious and the six hours in between the travel time were miserable, even more so on this particular trip because she knew that Thomas was home waiting for her. He had been willing to accompany and support her as she met the monthly obligation, but she was not ready to disclose the details about the fractured relationship with her mother and felt it unfair to involve him in her unpleasant crusade.

Renee O’Reilly instinctively knew, even with her alcohol-pickled brain, just how to push every button and Annie, though she used every calming technique she knew, could not help but become increasingly aggravated and hostile in dealing with her headstrong mother. Theirs was a complicated relationship, the result of persistent, never-ending sorrow and grief. While Annie was able to rise out of the misery to make a life for herself, her mother found solace in a bottle of vodka. A barely functional alcoholic, Renee both relied on and resented her daughter’s monthly visit. Without it, she would not have food or electricity in her house. They argued as always, leaving Annie to drive away feeling as if her father had just died all over again. Annie endured the dysfunctional pattern of emotional abuse, despite the knowledge that she had put herself in the situation and that she could never change her mother’s contempt for her.

As Annie started back on the road, which was slick from the pouring rain that began around noon and continued throughout her commute home, she was weary with exhaustion as her mind replayed the events of the day, a similar scene each month. She was preoccupied and, with the sound of the pelting rain, did not hear her cell phone’s increasingly frequent ringtone.

* * *

Thomas watched Annie pull up in front of his house. He was beyond relieved to see her safe return.
Thank God
. Thomas had spent the past several hours frantic with worry. His angst morphed into anger as he charging to Annie’s car in a fit of frenzied rage.

Pulling the car door open, he began the pent-up tirade. “Why didn’t you answer your phone, damn it! I’ve been trying to call you for hours.” He drank in the sight of her. She looked exhausted. Thomas was standing next to her vehicle, barely aware of the soaking cold of the pelting rain. He had never been so angry in his life. “Well, are you going to answer me?” he asked in a bitter tone. Thomas was at a point where he had lost all reason and was well and truly irate.

Sighing heavily, Annie gathered her purse and exited the car. Silently, she opened her umbrella to hold it over both of them, but when she tried to encompass him in the cover, he pulled away abruptly and strode back into the house.

The few moments it took to get back into the house helped Thomas to rein in his anger. The vision of Annie was shocking and any remaining irritation quickly turned to concern. Aside from being soaked, she looked… defeated. Desolate. A frisson of fear gripped Thomas.
What the hell happened today?

Entering the house, Thomas sprinted to the bathroom to grab a towel. He was soaking wet. Drops of water falling from his hair distorted his vision. He rubbed his head with the towel and brought another with him, as he walked back to the entryway to find Annie. Approaching her, he dropped the head towel to his shoulder and opened the clean towel to pat her damp hair.

He rubbed her shoulder in a soothing gesture, realizing that Annie needed tenderness and compassion. “Come into the living room by the fire so we can warm up.” Lacing his fingers through hers as he took her hand, he led her into the cavernous room. As Thomas regained control of his emotions, he was filled with regret knowing his approach upon her return was a less than desirable way to greet his love. He had just been so frantic, his anger spilled out of him like ink out of a pen that exploded. Now composed, he sat with her on the couch facing the warm hearth, grateful to God that she was safe and unharmed.

The fear that gripped him tightly for the past few hours was receding and in its place grew an awareness of her solemn expression. With two fingers cupped under her chin, Thomas raised Annie’s somber face. What he witnessed in the shadow of her eyes caused the abated fear to return. He froze, not from the dampness caused by freezing rain, but from the desolation and hopelessness reflected in her gaze.

Desperate for answers, he tempered his voice and tone and asked, “Where were you, Annie? I was frantic. You would not answer your phone. Every horrible thought went through my mind. I envisioned you on the side of the road in a car accident. You scared the shit out of me, Annie!” The final words were spoken more harshly than he had intended.

She responded with quiet sadness. “I know, Thomas, and I am so sorry. Today was not easy for me.” She sat hunched, curled into herself as if she needed protection. He thought,
I’m an ass. It’s my job to protect her and all I did was yell at her
.

Her voice was strained. “Going to see my mother takes an emotional toll both prior, during, and after the journey. I hate going to see her, but I have to for my own peace of mind and strange sense of duty, despite the difficulty. I should have done a better job preparing you for the aftereffect it has on me. I should have just talked to you, told you…” She shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

With all of the compassion he felt, he wanted her to hear it in his voice. “You know you can tell me anything. You don’t have to be in pain all alone anymore,” he said softly.

Annie started to cry and it broke his heart. “I know, Thomas… it’s just… it’s very painful and private. No one in my life really knows about the complicated relationship with my mother. It’s my dark, desolate place and I have always kept it tucked away very tight inside. I don’t like to talk about it… but I know I need to share it with you. I owe it to you…” Annie’s voice drifted off. She rubbed the tears from her face harshly.

Thomas got up and grabbed a box of tissues. Annie reached out for them, but Thomas was overwhelmed with the need to take care of her. He tipped her head up with a finger under her chin, wiping the tears away with a tissue.

Thomas could see that her mind was in a far-off place. He gave her a few moments, then gently asked, “Can you tell me now? About your mother?”

His words, spoken with tenderness, seemed to bring Annie out of the dark recesses of her thoughts. “My father died when I was ten years old. It goes without saying, my mother and I were both devastated. I was an only child and a real daddy’s girl. I loved him so much.” Her small, despondent smile broke his heart. “He had pancreatic cancer so it was a long and painful end to his life, watching his vigor and vitality fade away. After he was gone, my mother got lost in a sea of anger, resentment, and sorrow. She used alcohol to medicate and soothe herself. At ten years old, I became mother to myself and to her.” She paused, sniffing. Thomas handed her a Kleenex so she could blow her nose. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but strained.

Annie cleared her throat. “I made sure that the house was clean and did all of the cooking. I even learned how to pay the bills. My father had life insurance so the house was paid off, but it became my responsibility to ensure that the household continued to run. I was the laundress, housekeeper, repairman, and chef. My childhood was lost forever, though I was still a child. I was forced to take on the responsibilities of an adult.”
Shit!
The vision of Annie as a sad little girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders brought Thomas to his knees.

“I could barely write given my age, but I would get the checkbook and organize the handfuls of bills that arrived each month. I filled in the information on the checks and gave them to my mother to sign. Within a few months after his death, she was drunk all of the time, barely functioning, so I just signed her name to them. At that point she was hardly eating or bathing. I did the grocery shopping and taught myself how to cook. Basic things like heating up soup and making grilled cheese sandwiches. Oftentimes, I would just have cereal, sometimes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

His chest ached for her pain and suffering and his own tears threatened to fall in shared sorrow. Her voice was filled with such lament and resignation. He wanted to put his arms around her and keep her in his warm embrace for eternity. His protective instinct was to wrap her in a blanket of his love to chase away her demons. His soul throbbed in torment for the little girl who lost her daddy and was left alone with an ineffectual zombie of a mother.
It was worse than I thought.
Thomas had known that she was keeping something from him, but he had not imagined just how morose it was. Thinking it could get no worse, his heart pounded as adrenaline surged through his body in reaction to her next words.

“Over time, my mother became violent.”
No, please, no
. His body went rigid to brace himself for her next words. Thomas reached out for Annie’s hand as a silent request to take his comfort. He laced their fingers and placed his other hand over their embraced digits. He moved closer to her, a demonstration of his unwavering strength, but allowed her physical space as she bared her soul with the black, unimaginable details.

“When my father was alive, both of my parents were loving. They never shouted at me or raised a finger when angered. That changed after Daddy died. My mother irrevocably changed into another person, no longer the mom I knew and loved and who loved me. The abuse I suffered was physical and mental. All of her pain was directed at her only daughter. I think it was because I was the one reminder of all she had lost. I resemble my dad, we had the same color hair and eyes,” she explained. “She was gone, the mother I knew before my daddy left this earth. She became cruel, desecrating our home and his memory. I walked on eggshells, never knowing what would trigger or inflame her violent anger.”