Shark Out of Water (8 page)

Chapter 8

Obsédé

Guy sat down opposite Vance, considerably less anxious than he had been the night before. His friend had also toned down his frantic manner. Vance’s immediate smothering had angered Guy, but he knew it stemmed from their differing approaches to crises. While Vance preferred immediate interaction, Guy had always been one who required time to take everything in and process what was happening. This was not the first time the friends had ended up in an argument because of such viewpoints. Luckily, they had known each other long enough by that point to not let it escalate into a full-fledged fight.

“I’m sorry for getting in your face about this,” Vance began. “I should have known better and given you some space.”

Guy shrugged off his concern. “I know you meant well. I am sorry, too, for my attitude.”

Apologies out of the way, both men settled in for the real discussion. “How are you handling Patricia’s suicide?”

Flinching at the word, Guy looked away. If he spoke of her death, he did not refer to it as suicide… except for with Charlotte, he realized. A subtle noise from Vance drew his attention back to the question. “I feel responsible, no matter what anyone says. I am second guessing every decision I made in regards to her. I tell myself I could have saved her. She could still be here if I had done something different.”

“Maybe she could be alive,” Vance said. “Maybe you could have saved her if you had made a different choice, but for how long? How long before Patricia landed back in the hospital, or in the morgue, through her own choices?”

“She wanted to improve.”

“Maybe when you first met her, but she was beyond the point where she could even understand what it would mean to be clean and stable. You made the right choice admitting her to an inpatient facility.”

“Then why is she dead?” Guy demanded. His hands balled into fists as he fought back the regret and anger.

Vance waited patiently for his friend to regain himself before speaking. “How
did
it happen? She was supposed to be on suicide watch.”

“A plastic fork,” Guy said with a shake of his head. “Whoever prepared her meal made an error. She broke the plastic fork put on her tray by mistake and used it on her wrists. By the time the orderly saw the blood, it was too late. She had cut too deeply. They could not stem the bleeding in time.”

Vance shook his head. “The fact remains, she could have done the same thing, even more easily, back on the streets.”

“She would not have felt so threatened!” Guy argued. “She would not have taken her own life if I had released her.”

“Why was she brought in?” Vance asked. Silence fell, making him sigh. “She attacked another street person because she thought the ghosts were talking to him about her. And when the police came, she attacked them as well, screaming that they were kidnapping her to kill her. Guy, she felt threatened by everything. There was no escaping that.”

Guy was quiet. He knew everything Vance said was logical. He knew it made sense. His words did not change the guilt he held.

“Look, Guy, I know nothing I say will take away the fact that you feel responsible for Patricia’s death, but don’t carry that guilt around on your own. Let me share the load. Talk to me.”

“That is what Charlotte said,” Guy said quietly.

Vance’s head cocked to one side. “Charlotte? Is she the woman you brought to the wedding?”

Guy shook his head. “No, that was Carmody, a friend of mine.”

“Then who is Charlotte?”

Guy was slow to answer, though not for the same reasons he did not want to admit who Carmody was to Leila. He hesitated because he did not know the answer. Finally, he shrugged. “Just a woman I met at the hospital. We have spoken a few times over coffee. That is it.”

“That’s it?” Vance questioned. “A woman at the hospital, who you obviously trusted enough to talk to about something very personal, and who gave you some very good advice, and that’s it?” Vance shook his head. “Where are all these secret friends coming from?”

When Guy gave in and told Vance about Carmody, how they met, and the family dinners they shared, his friend was stunned. “Guy, why have you kept her a secret? Why would you hide that part of yourself?”

“It is not who I wanted to be seen as.”

“What do you mean by that? None of us would think any less of you for having married friends or a female friend you had a platonic relationship with. We all know you’re a shameless flirt, but it’s just your personality. You’re friendly and love to have fun, but that’s not the whole you. We know that.”

Looking up at the ceiling in frustration, Guy shook his head. “I do not want to be so transparent. People should not see everything of who I am. There is public and there is private. There should be parts of my life that are hidden from everyone else.”

Confused, Vance said nothing for several long seconds. “Why does Carmody need to be something private? If you’re not having an affair with her—which I believe you aren’t—why keep her as part of your life you don’t want anyone to know about?”

“Because that is not me.” Guy folded his arms across his chest. “That is not who I was raised to be.”

Now Vance seemed even more confused. “Your parents, your mom especially, wants you to settle down and have a family. I don’t get what you mean by that.”

“In public you are one thing, business, professional, respectable. In private, that is when you have quiet dinners with friends like Carmody, when you get French silk pie on your shirt sleeve and don’t change it right away, when you read stories to a little girl who giggles like a tiny hyena.” Guy huffed, irritated at having to explain such things, frustrated for not knowing whether it even made sense anymore.

When he looked up at his friend, he was surprised to see Vance smiling. “You read stories to Carmody’s daughter?”

“I always put her to bed and read a book to her when I stay for dinner,” Guy said. What was so unusual about that?

Vance was smart enough to see signs that Guy was now on the defensive. He redirected, asking, “Tell me about Charlotte. Why are you having deep conversations with her instead of flirting and seducing her back to your flat?”

Sulking like a child, Guy muttered, “
Je ne sais pas
.”

“You don’t know?” That seemed to truly surprise Vance. “Well, I suggest you find out.”

“What?” Guy snapped. “That is your advice to me? Find out?”

Vance nodded. “
Oui, mon ami
. Find out why Charlotte has done what it has taken me years and years to do. Why let down your barrier between public and private for someone you barely know, when I had to practically force you to do the same thing today.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Vance repeated. “Because you need to know. You won’t stop obsessing about her until you do.”

“
Obsédé
? Who says I am obsessing over her?”

Vance folded his arms across his chest. “She is in your thoughts so much that you mentioned her name when you clearly had no intention of revealing her to me.” Leaning forward, he looked at his friend seriously. “Guy, I have known you for a long time. You have surprised me today, but I know how you can be like a dog with a bone. You’ll drive yourself crazy wondering what it is about Charlotte that got past your defenses until it either drives you crazy or you figure it out. Given the line of work we’re in, I’d suggest figuring it out.”

“I thought I was here to talk about Patricia,” Guy grumbled.

Leaning back with a smirk, Vance said, “We are. Just had to find something you wanted to talk about even less to spur you on, apparently.” He shook his head when Guy rolled his eyes. “Something else is bothering you when it comes to Patricia. The funeral is tomorrow. You’re avoiding talking about it. Why?”

Guy did not respond right away. His breathing escalated to the point that Vance reached forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Her parents… they came to see me at the hospital.”

“How did they react?”

Shaking his head, he still struggled to understand their reaction. Instead of answering Vance’s new question, he answered the original one. “They requested I stand as a pallbearer.” His head fell into his hands. “I don’t know if I can. It is too difficult.”

“It will undoubtedly be difficult,” Vance said with compassion, “but it is difficult for Patricia’s parents as well. They see you as the one person who truly tried to help her. I think it comforts them to think of you being there to help her on this one last transition.”

“I don’t know if I can do this for them.”

Vance squeezed Guy’s shoulder. “You don’t have to if it is too much.”

“Not doing it feels like a betrayal of Patricia.”

“Guy, don’t make this about Patricia or her parents. What do you feel comfortable with and how do you want to say goodbye to Patricia?”

That was not an easy question. Guy sank back into the chair. Vance waited with the patience of a saint as Guy forced himself to confront the answers. He had been through so much with Patricia, watched her move forward only to fall so far again and again. She never stopped trying, and he never stopped trying to help her. “I want to help her this one last time,” Guy said finally.

“Then call Patricia’s parents when you get home and tell them you’ll be there.”

Feeling more at peace, Guy nodded.

“Stephanie and I will be there as well.” Vance held his friend’s gaze for a moment longer, making sure he knew he did not have to face the funeral alone. When Guy’s shoulders relaxed, Vance sat back. “Now why don’t you tell me about the day you met Patricia?”

As Guy began recounting the first time Patricia came into the crisis center wanting to talk about everything from the side effects of the medications she was taking to how her puppy would not stop peeing on her kitchen floor, his thoughts returned to Vance’s earlier challenge. Patricia had struck a chord with him, and so had Charlotte, in surprisingly similar ways. He understood why he has connected with Patricia, a struggling and confused young woman, but Charlotte was more of a mystery. What would it take to find out why Charlotte had affected him so much?

Chapter 9

Comment cela?

The last thing Guy wanted to do after Patricia’s funeral was work the night shift. He had little choice in the matter. Dr. Canton had taken his day shift so he could attend the funeral, and that kind of favor had to be returned immediately. Guy was exhausted. He trudged into the hospital well ahead of the time he was expected, but he had not had the inclination to go back to his flat and sit alone for an hour. Stewing in his thoughts was the last thing he needed.

As Guy turned the corner toward the cafeteria, intent on a caffeine boost, his thoughts were clouded with words spoken by Patricia’s family and friends. He paid attention to little else. Until the sound of a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Charlotte said, drawing Guy’s eyes to her soft smile. “You look like you’re headed somewhere interesting. A date, or the theater maybe?”

For a moment, Guy could not respond. He was struck by the comfort just being near Charlotte provided him. It took several seconds longer to process what she had said and craft an appropriate response. “Coming from, not going to.
Un enterrement
. A funeral, I mean.”

Charlotte’s expression softened with regret. “Guy, I’m so sorry. Whose funeral was it?”

“My patient, the one who passed away recently.” Not wanting to discuss Patricia, or the funeral, Guy changed the subject. “I am on my way up to work now.”

“In your suit?” she questioned.

Guy glanced down at his black, three-piece suit, realizing only then that it was hardly appropriate attire for the hospital. Shaking his head, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I think I have some scrubs in my locker.”

His hand fell back to his side. Suddenly, he did not want to get into the elevator. He did not want to be in the hospital at all. Looking up at Charlotte, Guy said, “Do you have any plans right now?”

Surprised, Charlotte did not answer right away. Her fingers tightened and loosened around her purse strap several times before she spoke. “I thought you had to work.”

“I have an hour before I must report,” Guy explained. He wanted very much to get away from the hospital, preferably with Charlotte, but her hesitation was obvious. “If you have somewhere to be, however, it is okay. I just needed to get away for a few minutes. I did not mean to intrude.”

“No,” Charlotte said quickly. “I’d love to come. I just need to make a call first, okay? Just give me one minute.” She looked at Guy as she pulled her phone out, waiting for him to respond. She seemed to think he was going to disappear if she looked away.

“Of course,” Guy said. He was relieved by her smile. Part of him suspected she had only said yes in order to be polite, but he would accept her charity. He did not want to sit alone for an hour, thinking thoughts he had no strength left to consider. The funeral had taken too much out of him.

He watched Charlotte as she stepped a few feet away and pressed her phone to her ear. He could not hear anything she said, but he thought Charlotte looked anxious about something when she glanced back at him during the conversation. Then her lips turned up when she saw him watching her. The tension in her shoulders seemed to release, just slightly, and she wrapped up the conversation a few seconds later.

Putting her phone back in her purse as she approached him, Charlotte said, “Where would you like to go?”

“There is a small bistro nearby. Is that acceptable?”

“It’s fine,” Charlotte said. “Lead the way.”

The walk out of the hospital and down the street was quiet. Just having Charlotte close calmed his turmoil. She glanced over at him with a concerned expression several times as they walked, but he remained quiet. The only thing he allowed himself to think about was how odd this all seemed. Aside from his morning meetings with Carmody—which he had missed that day in order to drive to a neighboring town for the funeral and internment—Guy never had such ordinary interactions with women.

Those who knew Guy were well familiar with his flirtatious behavior. It didn’t matter if the woman was attractive, young or old, he enjoyed making them smile by playing up his accent and throwing out compliments with abandon. Of course, he often flirted for real, because he was genuinely interested in a woman, but even then, it was fun and light. Guy rarely behaved seriously with women. He did not let himself. Being serious led to cat sitting requests or discussions about the future, neither of which he wanted to be a part of.

Charlotte was very beautiful, as well as kind and considerate. She buoyed his spirits without even trying, yet Guy felt no desire to slip into his usual cheeky banter. He was not sure why, but something about her would not allow such frivolity and casualness.

When they reached the doors of the bistro, Guy quickly stepped ahead and pulled the door open for Charlotte. She seemed only mildly surprised, but walked past him with a grateful smile and a quick thank you. They stepped into the little restaurant and were told by a voice from somewhere to sit wherever they wanted. Charlotte took the lead and selected a booth near the back, one that was private and away from the other customers. He slid into the faux leather seat, grateful for her choice.

A waitress appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, a few seconds later to take their drink order. Guy had been a customer often enough to order without a menu, but Charlotte had to ask what her choices were. The lemonade she ended up ordering contrasted Guy’s espresso, but she was likely heading home to relax while he was gearing up for a long, long night.

“So,” Charlotte began, “I’m guessing you don’t usually go to your patients’ funerals.”

Guy shook his head. “No
,
not at all. I only have patients pass away rarely, but I typically do not attend their funerals.”

“But this patient was a friend, right? You had known her since college?”

Guy was surprised Charlotte remembered such details from their first conversation. “
Oui
. She was a friend.” His original reason for asking her to accompany him had been to escape talk of the funeral, of Patricia, but he found himself doing the exact opposite. “Her parents asked me to be a pallbearer at the funeral.”

“Wow, that must have been difficult,” Charlotte said. “Although, I suppose it was probably a comfort that they asked you. Whatever guilt you feel about her death, clearly they don’t hold you responsible. I know that doesn’t negate what you’ve been going through, but it must be a relief to know that.”

Slowly, Guy nodded. “I wanted to help her so badly. Now, that time has passed. That has not been easy to face, regardless of guilt or blame. I will never have the chance to see her well and happy, and neither will her parents.”

His head fell. Even more than feeling responsible for causing her to feel so desperate that she took her own life, he grieved for that lost chance. He wanted her to be the happy, sweet little girl everyone had spoken about at the funeral. He wanted to bring back that innocence and joy, for her, for her family. It was no longer a possibility, and that affected him deeply.

“So, what are your plans for the weekend?” Charlotte asked, sipping her lemonade with a casual air.

Caught off guard by her abrupt change in topic, Guy could only watch her for a moment. She was playing at relaxed, but she still watched him carefully. The corner of his mouth turned up as he realized she was trying to distract him from his emotional wounds. Somehow, he knew she understood how difficult this day had been for him, but she also understood dwelling on it was only doing more harm.

Leaning against the back of the booth, Guy felt some of the tension in his shoulders slip away. “Dinner with friends,” Guy finally answered.

“Friends? Plural? Just how many women do you take out at once?” she teased.

“
Moi
?” Guy said in mock shock. “Why would you think such a thing of me?”

Charlotte laughed at his exaggerated response. “Oh, I can’t imagine why. You are a terrible flirt, Guy Saint Laurent. I’ve seen how you tease those women at the hospital cafeteria. I hear they’re not the only ones you’re like that with.”

“You have been checking up on me?” Guy asked. He was actually somewhat surprised. She had stuck in his mind after their first meeting, but he really did not think he had left much of an impression on her, even after their following run-ins.

Smiling, Charlotte stirred her lemonade with her straw slowly, captivating Guy with the motion. When Charlotte spoke, it startled him into looking up to her thoughtful eyes.

“There are two kinds of men who are as flirtatious as you.”

“Are there?” Guy asked. He grinned at her. “And what two types are there?”

Charlotte let go of her straw and crossed her arms. Her eyes remained leveled at him, but they were not accusing. “There are the men who are so self-absorbed that they actually believe every woman they meet wants to be seduced by them, and then there are the men who enjoy making women feel good about themselves with compliments and attention they wouldn’t otherwise get. One is looking to get laid. The other is trying to do something nice without getting locked into a serious encounter.”

“And you wish to know which one am I?” Guy asked.

Smiling, Charlotte shook her head.

“
Non
?”

“No,” Charlotte replied, “I already know.”

“Are you so sure of your assessment?” Guy regarded her curiously. Whatever she did at the hospital, he was confident she had missed her true calling. She would have made an excellent psychiatrist.

Charlotte leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she peered over at him. “I wouldn’t have come with you tonight if I wasn’t sure.” She smiled, causing a strange pain in Guy’s chest. “You aren’t as mysterious as you think, Guy. Anyone who really looks at you knows you’re a good man. You wouldn’t care about your patients as much as you do, or take the time to make an overworked cafeteria worker feel like she’s the center of your attention if you weren’t.”

An uncomfortable feeling settled around Guy. “You could be reading too deeply into my actions. Perhaps I simply enjoy the attention I receive for my compliments and supposed consideration. I broke up with my last girlfriend because she asked me to babysit her cat.”

Guy was not sure why he told her that, or even why he was trying to convince her he was less than she imagined, but he felt an odd compulsion to make sure she knew he was not Prince Charming. He had no intention of sweeping any young maiden off her feet and carrying her away to eternal bliss.

Seeming wholly unfazed by his words, Charlotte only cocked her head to one side as she continued to watch him. “Cats really are overrated,” she said.

That was her only response? Guy frowned, not sure how to reply to such a comment. Charlotte was surprising and baffling him. His chin fell into his upturned hand as he frowned. Instead of trying to puzzle it out, he took a page from her book and redirected.

“What are your plans for the weekend?”

Charlotte’s lips twitched, as though she were trying not to laugh at him. “I’m going to visit my parents out of state. It’s been a while since I’ve visited and I…I need to talk with them about a few things.” She shook her head and laughed at herself. “I’m supposed to be a grown adult, but I still go to my parents for advice when I have a tough decision to make. Does that seem silly?”

Her smile had disappeared, and Guy suspected whatever advice she needed was not as casual as she was trying to make it sound. He was not the type of child who went to his parents for advice. That was probably due to the fact that his mother’s advice was unfailingly for him to move back home, as though that would fix anything. His father’s advice was just as helpful, telling him to push through a problem, with no specific guidance, because he believed Guy should figure out the solution for himself. Charlotte seemed to honestly value what her parents thought.

“No, it is not silly. I hope they are able to help you with whatever you need to discuss with them.”

“What about your parents?” Charlotte asked, taking the focus off her. “Do they live here in the U.S. as well?”

Guy shook his head. “They are still in France. They would never leave. If I want to see them, I must go home.”

“Do you see them often?”

Shrugging, he said, “Not as much as I would like to, but I go home as often as I can. I’m leaving for a visit in a week, actually. My sister is returning as well, from wherever she is right now. My parents are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary.”

“How wonderful for them,” Charlotte said with a smile. “Your sister, where does she live?”

“It depends on the week.” Guy shook his head. “She has a flat in Paris, but she travels so much for work that she rarely sees it.”

“What does she do?”

Guy hesitated answering. Women were often intimidated by Sabine’s profession. That mainly applied to women he was dating, however, and while he did not fully understand what his odd relationship with Charlotte was, he doubted she would be put off by Sabine’s work.