Letting Go (Healing Hearts) (7 page)

She shut her eyes, willing her heart to block out the pain. Suddenly it felt as if a draft blew through the room, making her skin rise with little bumps from the chill.

Don’t listen to him.

A shudder coursed through her, and she opened her eyes. “I don’t believe in prayer.”

“Why not?”

Diane shrugged.

“Do you believe Jesus and God are real?”

“I guess so. I never really thought about it before.”

“Would you be willing to attend a women’s group with Katia to learn about the hope Jesus talks about in the Bible? They meet every Wednesday night at seven o’clock.”

“I might . . . but I doubt it.” She avoided eye contact.

An awkward silence lingered.

“What are you afraid of?”

The topic of Jesus and God always made her uncomfortable, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like she hated God. At least, she didn’t think she did.

“Oh, I prayed when I was young, like my neighbor Mrs. Mackey taught me to do. Maybe since God never helped me when I asked Him, I figured He either didn’t care about me or He didn’t exist.” Her eyes misted. “I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?”

Pastor Lane squeezed her hand briefly and stood, dropping his business card on the tray table. “I hope to see you sometime in church. Call me when you’re ready to talk some more. I’m always willing to listen.”

“I’ll . . . think about it. But don’t expect to see me in church.”

“Why not?”

Diane shrugged. “Maybe I don’t think God would want me there.”

“I can assure you that’s not true. Jesus loves you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

The obvious sadness on his expressive face made her heart tumble and flip. She adjusted herself on her bed. Exhaling, she changed the subject before she promised him she’d go just to make him feel better.

“Since I really don’t want to die anymore, there’s no need for me to be strapped to this bed. Can you get me a nurse? I want them to take off these annoying cuffs.”

“I can do that.”

As he left to fetch a nurse, she muttered, “I need to get out before I really do go crazy.”

Chapter 6

“H
ow about taking a nice swim in the pool today, Joey? Feeling up to a little fun?”

Dave held his son and pointed out the kitchen window toward the large indoor pool. Heated during the winter, the glass-enclosed room added on at the back of his three-thousand-square-foot home served as a hothouse of sorts. He enjoyed swimming in the pool more in the winter than he did in the summer when he had to retract the roof to allow the sunshine in.

“Swim!”

‘Yeah, that’s right, little guy. We’re going for a swim.”

“Swim, swim!” Joey shouted, trying to wriggle out of Dave’s arms.

“All right. Have patience, boy. Let Daddy find your swimmer pull-ups.” Carrying Joey on his hip with one arm for support, Dave climbed the stairs to his son’s room. He set Joey down and went into the bathroom in search of the special swim diapers.

Little Joey did a happy dance around the room. Dave caught him and tried to pull his shirt off over his head, but it got stuck.

“You have a big skull, kid. I wonder if a big brain makes you a genius.”

Dave tugged one last time. The shirt zapped him with static electricity as it whipped off Joey’s head. His hair stood up straight, and the little boy let out a belly laugh as he touched his head. His little legs wound up to run away.

Dave caught his rambunctious toddler, still kicking. He removed his pants, then ripped open the Velcro tabs on his diaper. Gross. Joey needed a wipe-down but took off the moment his little feet hit the ground—buck naked—before Dave could stop him.

Worried that Joey might fall on the white Berber carpeting on his dirty behind, Dave jumped up and flipped the bedroom door shut with his left arm, hoping to trap Joey in the room so he could catch him. Instead, the door clocked Joey in the head so hard that his little boy flew back several feet before landing on his dirty bottom with a thud.

Stunned at first, Joey didn’t make a sound and just stared at Dave with apparent disbelief. He blinked as if not sure what to do, hesitating only until he saw the obvious horror on Dave’s face. Then he started to scream as if Dave had tried to kill him.

Dave jumped up and scooped the boy into his arms, trying to comfort him. The welt on Joey’s forehead where the door had whacked him now rose into a fairly large goose-egg lump.

Dave’s heart slammed as if someone dribbled a basketball against his ribs. He hopped down the stairs two at a time with Little Joey in his arms and raced toward the freezer. After snatching a pliable, cooling gel pack and wrapping it in a towel, he pressed it against Joey’s forehead.

A little gasp escaped from Joey’s lips, and he stopped crying to catch his breath. The coldness must have startled him because now he struggled to push the ice pack away from his head. Dave wrestled with him and peeked under the compress. Elation filled his heart when he saw the lump had already reduced in size just from applying the gel pack. Sighing with relief, he held Joey close and kissed his baby-soft brown hair.

Bouncing Joey to distract him from his distress, Dave crooned, “Daddy’s so sorry the door hit your head. He was just trying to keep you from running out of the room. It won’t happen again. Now let Daddy hold this on your head a little longer.”

Joey didn’t respond with words. He just pulled in a deep breath and sighed, but he’d stopped crying and laid his head on Dave’s shoulder. He molded his little body to his father’s chest and popped his thumb in his mouth. The loud sucking assured Dave his son would be okay now that he’d calmed down.

But what about the lump on Joey’s head? It would no doubt turn into a nasty bruise. What would the new caseworker think when she saw it? Fear seized Dave’s chest.

He forced the thought from his head. He’d done nothing wrong. As Joey lay on the floor, Dave wiped his bottom clean and dressed him. And just in case Joey had gotten a concussion or slight skull fracture, Dave picked up the phone and called Joey’s pediatrician for an emergency appointment.

Joey pulled his thumb free and protested. “Swim! Swim, Daddy, swim!”

“Not now, Son. We need a doctor to look at your head.”

His son’s words sounded garbled as he begged with his thumb stuffed deep inside his mouth and obstructing his speech. Dave couldn’t help but chuckle at how quickly Joey forgot his pain. Dave hoped he would recover as well when the emotional upheaval caused by his mother’s reentry into his life finally took place.

Cringing, he held Joey close. He couldn’t make that situation all better.

He also couldn’t help worrying. Would Joey blame him for it?

*   *   *

“Yes, I promise I’ll attend a support group if I feel the urge to overdose again. But I doubt that’ll happen because these anti-depressants are already helping, Doc. I know you say it takes at least a week for the effect to kick in, but I’m telling you, I’m feeling better after only a few days of taking this stuff.” Diane engaged her face in a tight smile.

“How do I know you’ll be okay and aren’t just saying this to get released?” The elder doctor raised one eyebrow.

“I’m fine now, I swear. Please, just let me go home. It’s bad enough I had to spend Thanksgiving in this awful place.”

Diane fought the urge to dissolve into tears. She knew that if she cried, the staff psychiatrist, Doctor Danielo, wouldn’t believe her claim, and they’d keep her even longer. Gazing over at his psychiatric intern with desperation, she widened her eyes and blinked, hoping to win him as an ally.

The younger doctor responded with a gleam in his eye. She recognized the look he gave her and gave him a seductive grin. She was desperate enough to do just about anything.

The doctor and intern excused themselves and quietly discussed her situation in the back corner of the room. When finally they turned to face her, all smiles, she figured she had won them over.

She leaned forward with anticipation. “So?”

“When did you say your surgery is scheduled?”

“Next Friday. Why?”

“As long as you agree to continue taking your medication and to call if you need an adjustment to your dose, then we’ll release you.”

“I really get to go home today?” Her voice raised in pitch as her excitement grew. It felt so good to be free.

“That’s right.” The handsome young intern moved forward, offering his hand with an affirming, “Congratulations, Ms. Simmons.”

“Yes!”

Bypassing the intern’s hand, she flew into his arms. Forgetting that the thin hospital gown was anything but modest, she gave him a hearty, lingering hug. When she released him, she gazed into his eyes for a moment with silent appreciation so he’d know how grateful she truly was.

Then she turned and hugged Dr. Danielo, who stiffened at her touch. From the corner of her eye she caught the intern examining her backside, now completely exposed because the gown had fallen open. He offered a sly smile and his eyes darkened, feasting on the sight of her like a starved man.

His expression made Diane smile inwardly. She still had that touch. The intern looked smitten, so just for the fun of it, she winked at him.

Her father’s pleased expression flashed before her eyes, and the memory of his twisted attraction to her made her flesh crawl. Instant regret pricked her heart, but she ignored the ache and pushed aside the conviction that tore at her conscience. She had control right now, and she planned to keep it.

Clearing her throat, she bit her lip and asked with a smile, “If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to change out of this gown now and get ready to go home.”

The staff psychiatrist nodded and left quickly as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her. But the intern lingered.

“If you want to stay and watch, that’s fine by me.”

The intern coughed and turned to leave. But he moved slowly, as if hoping for more entertainment. She didn’t see a ring on his finger, so she didn’t resist the urge to toy with him more. The addicting power she felt when a man lusted for her made her feel alive. At the same time it shamed her deeply, but she pushed the emotion aside.

Deliberately she started to untie her hospital gown. A familiar thrill zipped through her as he watched, frozen in place. When she blew him a kiss, he flushed and retreated outside the door.

A flashback from the last pageant she had participated in before her father died flitted through her memory. Strolling down the runway, posing for cameras, for Daddy . . .

Smile for the camera, Di. Now, tip your head to the left. Blow me a kiss. There, that’s perfect. You look so hot, honey.

Her father had trained her well on how to use her sex appeal to manipulate men. Since he had been a successful photographer, she’d learned early on how to pose like the professional models he worked with. She learned how to entice a man.

She commenced shedding her hospital gown, feeling the intern’s eyes on her through the window in the door. She took her time dressing in the outfit Katia had brought from her home. When she turned back, she smiled at the image of the back of his head darting away from the door in a hasty retreat.

Princess? Honey, are you teasing Daddy again?

Her chest squeezed, and regret clogged her throat. Why hadn’t she stopped when she knew he was watching?

She grabbed her few possessions and exited the room hastily. Entering a bathroom down the hall, she combed her hair and reflected on the generosity Katia had shown in bringing her clean clothes. She still couldn’t believe Katia had offered to clean her house for her too.

Remembering that moment, Diane’s eyes filled with tears. She’d cracked a joke with her to keep from crying. She doubted she could ever be as selfless and caring as Katia.

She knew how to compete, to argue, to use another person, win a fight, charm a man. When it came to important things like how to be a friend, however, she hadn’t a clue. Like Randy, she knew how to get what she wanted, but it didn’t fulfill her deepest need.

Maybe she should attend one of Katia’s women’s meetings because she had been so kind to her. How hard could it be to play along?

She supposed it wouldn’t be easy, but she would manage. Her mother had raised her to see other women as competition, so she’d have a hard time not comparing herself with the other ladies. She did it all the time and drove herself crazy.

Why did her parents still have such a strong influence on her? She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. It made no sense.

When it came to socializing with men, Diane felt totally at ease. Her mother had taught her to recognize the interest in a contest judge’s eyes and to use it to her advantage. And yet the training she had received so far had done nothing but cause problems.

She yearned to be innocent again, but regaining her virtue felt impossibly out of reach. She couldn’t remember ever feeling morally clean. The carnal knowledge she had acquired since early childhood from her father was a formidable barrier.

Come here, honey. Change into this for me. Yes, I want you to do it now. Ah, that’s better. I like that.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. How would she ever find a decent man like Ken when half the time she felt compelled to act like a slut? Maybe if she spent time with Katia, she could learn to model after a sweet, feminine woman who had real depth of character, something Diane knew nothing about.

Maybe Katia had a friend Diane could get to know. Someone she could relate to who could understand her pain and be a true friend. One way to find out might be to attend one of the meetings.

She’d always liked Katia, but couldn’t see them ever being the best of friends. Not given their weird history with Ken and with Katia’s late husband. Attending a meeting was the least Diane could do considering how guilty she still felt for hurting her.