Lost and Found (9 page)

Maggie sighed and peered into his steely blue eyes, wondering if maybe he already knew.

“I’ve been taking sleeping pills occasionally when I have trouble sleeping.”

“I see. And?” He said nothing else
,
and his hands stayed right where they were, as if holding her in place. “I accidentally took one yesterday before meeting you at your lawyer’s office.”

“I don’t understand how you accidentally take a sleeping pill? Unless you’re taking something else too
,
and you mixed up the pills.”

Maggie blinked and swallowed the lump that jammed her throat
again
. Richard
’
s fingers gripped her shoulders
,
and his eyes widened as if he could read her every thought.

“
What
else are you taking?”

Okay
,
he really did know. “
Ativan
for anxiety.”

“Oh
God,
Maggie!” He stepped back and pressed both hands on top of his head. “Ahh. What are you doing? How often are you taking them?” He was getting louder, more demanding, as he firmed his lips into a fine white line. “Where are they?”

She couldn’t speak and stood frozen when he stormed down the hall to the bathroom. It wasn’t until she heard him rummaging in the bathroom that she could move.

“What are you doing?
”

He dumped toiletries, bottles,
and
makeup all over the counter. And he lined up five prescription bottles. Lifting each up and read each one. “Dr. Martin is who prescribed these?” He glared in
such
a way
,
that
at another time
,
she’d have taken a step back from the doorway she stood.

“Richard
,
I want you to leave. Those are mine. Put them back.” Whose voice was that? It was so weak it cracked when she spoke.

But he didn’t put them back. He lifted the toilet seat and emptied the first bottle into the toilet. She didn’t realize
it
was her screaming as she grabbed his arm trying to reach around him to rescue the remaining pill bottles beside the sink.

Richard blocked her and emptied all the pill bottles into the toilet and flushed. He threw the empty bottles into the trash.
She
felt every ounce of energy leave her. She leaned against the doorframe and wept as she slid to the floor. Then he was on the floor sitting beside her
,
and he scooped her onto his lap as if she were a child and held her.

She
pushed against his shoulder—his arms. But this time he didn’t let go. Why hadn’t he done this before?

“Shhh, I won’t let you take these. And this doctor who prescribed these
?
I swear I’ll have his medical license revoked.”

Sitting on
his lap,
she
gave in and allowed him to hold her, to rub her back, but none of
it
eased the knots twisting up her insides.
When she jerked upright, she wondered if she’d dozed off.
She’d lost track of time
.
Her
heart
was
pounding
in
her ribcage, her hands sweaty as if she’d had too much caffeine. Only today she’d had none, just a glass of white wine with Diane. She knew the demon had returned. All the signs were there, the familiar anxiety, which soon would give way to panic. He must have sensed what was going on inside of her. After all
,
he’d know the signs on someone more than she.

“Maggie
,
you need to tell me
.
How
often you were taking those pills?”

His chin rested atop her head. She could feel his warm breath feathering her hair as he spoke. Could he feel how fast her heart pounded? At one time
,
he used to know what she was thinking. But things changed, life changed with all its damn tests. And their foundation was not the solid storybook she once thought. But he was here now. Her breath caught in her throat. If she told him the truth
,
he’d use it against her
to
keep Ryley away from her. She pushed his arm down and scrambled to her feet.

“I rarely took them.” She wouldn’t meet his brutal gaze when he stood.

“Look at yourself
,
you’re already agitated, sweating…” He grasped her chin and tilted it up so she was forced to look at him. “Don’t ever forget you can’t hide
your
lying eyes. Not from
me.” He pointed a finger so close to her nose she’d swear he touched her. He narrowed his eyes
,
and
she
was sure a flash
of lightning
passed between them.

She
swatted his hand away. “I want you to leave, now.”

Richard shook his head and looked away. Then held his hands up in what appeared
to be
surrender, backing up. And he left.

She heard the door close
,
his
truck start
,
and his tires squeal as he drove away.

Maggie stood in her dimly lit hallway
,
alone for what felt like an eternity, trying to steady her racing heart. Then she
slowly
crept to the kitchen, but she wasn’t hungry. Regret and loneliness were her bitter companion
,
and so were the tears and piles of misery that burdened and
weighed
her down. Why wouldn’t it leave?

She
felt
a
gentle nudge against her thigh
.
Daisy
,
so patient
,
filled with unconditional love
,
stared lovingly up at
her with
what appeared
to be
worry filling her murky brown eyes. Maggie glanced at the open back door. “I’m so sorry
,
my girl, I forgot about you.” She hugged her dog and then followed Daisy out the open door, this time not wanting to see anyone.

“I’m sorry
,
Maggie
.
I’ll not renew this prescription.”

If he’d sucker punched her
,
it would’ve been kinder. She felt her face heat
,
and her back broke out in a cold sweat. A lock of hair dangled in her face, she scooped it back
,
feeling tangles in her windblown hair. She must look a wreck. She’d tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, and at this moment
,
as she sat stooped in the plastic chair shoved in a corner of the doctor
’
s sterile examination room, she felt old and haggard. It wasn’t the pills—it couldn’t be. This was Richard’s fault and his emotional roller coaster. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?

“I don’t understand. You prescribed these for me.”
She k
new her face had to be two shades of red.

“Maggie, I suspect you may be having withdrawals. That’s why you’re not sleeping. I told you when I prescribed these
,
they were temporary to get you through a bad time and help you cope with an unbearable situation.”

Dr. Martin’s aging round face resembled an inscrutable poker face. Gone were the kind eyes and gentle caring bedside manner. And she realized this was the first time he didn’t ask, “So how are you really doing
,
Maggie?” Leaning against the door with his arms crossed
,
this short hefty man darted his eyes across the room, he seemed to look everywhere
,
just not at
her
. He pulled out a pen shoved in the pocket of his long white doctor
’
s coat and bent over his desk, scribbling something in her file.

“It was Richard wasn’t it? He called you. Didn’t he?”

Dr. Martin let out a heavy sigh and clicked his pen
,
popping it back in his coat pocket before facing her
,
and this time staring at her with a hardness she’d never seen before.

“Maggie, look at you. If I’d known you were going to abuse those pills
,
I never would have prescribed them.”

“What?”
She
gripped the edge of her chair.

He
scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to
her
. She ripped it from his hands and stared at the unusually
neat
handwriting with a name
, Dr. Sheila Murphy,
and phone number. Maggie blinked and gazed up at
him
.

“Call her and make an appointment. She’s a psychologist
,
and she can help you.” He wasn’t looking at her again. “Okay I think that’s all.” He gripped the door handle
,
opened the
door, and paused. His cheeks colored a bright pink when he glanced at
her
, and for a second she was positive she saw something—pity
or
regret
—
before he left
,
closing the door behind him.

Maggie opened her mouth taking a deep breath and stood on shaky legs. She couldn’t
bear
to walk out into
the
crowded waiting room, past the reception area—
past
his nurses, because they’d know what he’d said
,
and she knew they’d think her an awful person. Was there a back door? She wanted to find a way to slink out of here unseen, go home and hide. Even though the doctor was the liar, not her. He made her feel as if she was someone of no importance. He’d never
,
not once
,
told her to be careful with those pills. In fact
,
he was the one who pushed them on her. She remembered now, she didn’t want to take them. He told her she needed to, because her health was more important.
She
clenched her fists
.
Damn
him to hell. She wanted to make him tell the truth, share the blame.

She swiped
at the
tears streaming down her cheek
,
tucked her purse under her arm
,
and hurried out
past
the nurse
whose
eyes widened before looking away. Maggie scooted out the door of the clinic, and reached in her purse for her keys before stopping in the middle of the gravel lot. She blinked and gazed at the half dozen cars parked. Hers wasn’t there.

“What are you doing
?
You
took the bus. Remember
?
” She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. Her car was the broken heap in her driveway. She started walking to the bus stop around the corner. She dug in her purse for the change she need
ed
when her fingers touched the piece of rose quartz she had tucked in the bottom. She pulled it out and clutched the treasured gift. “Why didn’t I think of that sooner
?
” Maggie smiled for the first time in days when she realized who she needed to see.

Maggie spent the
last of her spare cash on a cab to catch the
two forty-five
ferry over to Las Seta. She’d loved this crossing. At one time she’d loved a lot
of
things.

There
were
half a dozen people on the passenger only ferry as it docked. Sam, a southern gentleman, tall, fit, and extremely handsome in his worn blue jeans and jean jacket
,
and one of the most caring men she’d ever met
,
was waiting
.

Sam grabbed her hand as she climbed over the side of the small boat
,
and before she could pull back and step away
,
Sam pulled her close and hugged her. “Maggie it’s good to see ya.”

The southern drawl remained the same thick musical lilt filling her with some measure of comfort. He didn’t question her. But when he pulled back
,
he gazed at her with soft blue eyes that reached inside her heart. Maybe he knew why she was really here.

“Marcie’s bathing the baby. She sent me down to get you.” He secured his arm around her shoulder
s
and led her up to his black jeep
—the
one he moved
to this reclusive island
on the barge. Sam’s jeep was most likely the only licensed vehicle on the island.