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“I did leave once. I went to my mother and told her what was happening. She thought I was exaggerating. She convinced me to go back and work on my marriage, on making Paul happy. She honestly believed, I think, that I must have been doing something wrong for him to act that way.”
“How’d that make you feel?”
Tears streamed down Raylene’s face at the memory of walking away from her parents’ house that day, her suitcase in hand, what she’d seen as her only hope for an escape dashed. “Alone,” she said at once. “I’d never felt more alone in my life.”
“Couldn’t you have called someone else, Sarah or Annie, perhaps?”
“I’d lost touch with them, and I was too embarrassed, anyway. I hadn’t made any real friends in Charleston. Most were the wives of Paul’s friends, and I didn’t dare go to them.”
“So you were scared and isolated,” the psychologist concluded.
“Pretty much.”
“What finally changed to get you out of the house for good?”
Raylene swallowed hard. “We fought,” she said, not wanting to remember.
“But you’d fought before.”
“This was worse. I…was pregnant. Just a couple of months along.” Paul hadn’t been happy about the baby, but she had been. She’d wanted someone she could love unconditionally, someone to protect the way no one had protected her. In a way, she’d convinced herself that the baby would give her the strength to leave. Ironically, that’s exactly what had happened, though not in the way she’d envisioned.
Raylene buried her face in her hands and wept as she thought about that night, about the punches deliberately aimed at her stomach, the blows that had brought on a miscarriage days later. Paul hadn’t wanted her to go to the emergency room when the bleeding started, but for once she’d defied him, threatening to run screaming from the house if he didn’t let her go quietly. Naturally the threat of exposure in his own neighborhood had given him pause.
She hadn’t gone to the hospital where Paul had privileges. She’d feared his associates would help Paul to cover up the abuse. Instead, she went across town. The doctors there had been horrified. They’d known at a glance what had happened and taken enough pictures to guarantee that Paul would be convicted of a crime, even though sentencing guidelines for a first offense, even of aggravated felony abuse, were next to nothing.
When she’d declared she was leaving him, two doctors at the hospital had physically restrained Paul to keep him from following her. The moment they’d released her, she’d driven straight to Serenity and walked into The Corner Spa to see Annie.
“You’d been living in Charleston?” Dr. McDaniels said, glancing at her notes. “Is that right?”
Raylene nodded.
“How did you get over here? Did you drive yourself?”
She nodded. “I think I was in a state of shock. I barely remember making it to The Corner Spa. Then Annie brought me here.”
“And you literally haven’t left since?”
“I tried a couple of times. It was horrible. I’d get to the car and start shaking so badly that Sarah and Annie practically had to carry me back inside.”
“What do you think is going to happen if you leave the house?”
“I know it’s irrational since my ex-husband is still in jail, but I think he’s going to be there, waiting. I tell myself over and over that there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore, but I still can’t take that next step. I always thought I was pretty strong, but this has me beat.”
“Why haven’t you asked for help before?”
“I guess I felt ashamed because I couldn’t conquer this on my own. Like I said, I knew my reaction was irrational, but the fear was there just the same.” She took a deep breath, then admitted what she’d never told Sarah or Annie. “And I think I was punishing myself.”
“Because you hadn’t protected your baby?” Dr. McDaniels said at once.
Raylene nodded.
“If you can see that much, then you’ve made more progress than you realize. You understand the underlying causes of your problem. Now we just have to get busy and see what works so we can fix it.”
She said it so optimistically that Raylene took heart. “You make it sound so simple.”
“I didn’t say it was going to be simple or easy,” Dr. McDaniels cautioned. “There could be a lot of trial and error and a lot of setbacks before we get it right. Have you tried any medications?”
“None. I thought I could figure it out, you know, with some kind of mind-over-matter thing.”
“But you weren’t figuring it out.”
“I gave up,” she admitted. “I felt safe here.”
“And now? What’s changed?”
“I told you on the phone about letting Tommy slip away from the house. Not being able to go after him was the final straw. Even though Sarah and Travis said they understood and forgave me, I haven’t been able to shake the image of what could have happened.”
“So, you want to change to protect the kids?”
Raylene heard a faint hint of criticism in the question. “You think I should want it for myself.”
“Yes, I do,” Dr. McDaniels said, though not unkindly. “Despite what your ex-husband tried to make you believe, you deserve to have a full life. You have to want that for yourself. I won’t kid you, you’re not going to conquer this overnight. You’ll need a powerful motivation to deal with all the setbacks that might happen along the way.”
“Do you think the medication will help?”
“It may. I’ll consult with your physician—”
“I don’t have one here,” Raylene told her.
“Then I’ll call a colleague of mine. We’ll give medication a try. Even so, I have to be realistic. I can’t promise you a quick fix, Raylene, not to correct a pattern that’s gone on this long. Panic disorder can be complicated, especially when the fear is grounded in a traumatic incident. In your case, it’s not even one incident, but years of living in fear.”
Even though she’d expected that, Raylene felt a fresh batch of tears welling up. On some level she’d hoped Dr. McDaniels could snap her fingers, give her a few pills and the whole problem would vanish. She’d be able to live a normal life again.
“What if nothing works?” she asked, swiping angrily at the tears. It was as if she’d had a fresh start dangled in front of her then snatched away. Even though she told herself that fighting to get better was important, no matter how long it took, she’d obviously hoped for a miracle.
“Don’t be discouraged,” the psychologist said, correctly gauging her mood. “Something will work. I’m not a quitter, and something tells me you aren’t, either.”
“I don’t know how you can say that. I gave up a long time ago.”
“No, you didn’t seek help, and now you have. It’s always better late than never.” She pulled out her cell phone and made a call, apparently to the colleague she’d mentioned. After consulting for a couple of minutes, she nodded and thanked him. “He’s going to call a prescription in to Wharton’s. Someone will deliver it this afternoon. It’s an anti-anxiety medication, a relatively mild dose. We’ll give it a couple of days, then I’ll come back and we’ll try a few experiments.”
Raylene regarded her with suspicion. “Experiments?”
“See if we can get you down those front steps. If you can, so much the better. If you can’t, I’ll have an even better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
Raylene couldn’t imagine a drug on earth powerful enough to accomplish that. “I don’t know—” she began, only to have the doctor cut her off.
“It’s just the beginning, Raylene. We’ll pray for an instant cure, but we’ll work however long it takes to make it happen. The good news is that we know what’s behind the fear. For some people we don’t even have that as a starting point.”
“Okay, then,” Raylene said, her spirits bolstered slightly by the doctor’s quiet confidence.
Dr. McDaniels gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll say it again, as often as you need to hear it—don’t be discouraged. Every recovery starts with a single step. Just look at Annie and how well she’s doing these days, then think about where we began with her. Today, you’ve taken your first step. On Friday, you’ll take your next one.” She consulted her appointment book. “Is this same time okay for you?”
“It’s fine.” Raylene chuckled. “It’s not as if I’m going anywhere.”
“But you will be,” Dr. McDaniels said. “I promise.”
When she was gone, Raylene stared after her, surprised by the sensation spreading through her. It felt a lot like hope.
She hadn’t felt anything like it since the day she’d shown up in Annie’s office and her friend had told her everything was going to be okay. After years of distrusting the person closest to her, it had been a wonder to finally believe in someone again.
Walter had his notes from the day’s sales calls spread out on a table at Rosalina’s. A half-eaten pepperoni pizza, which he’d pay for with indigestion in a couple of hours, was pushed to one side, and his second beer sat on the table untouched. He didn’t even know why he’d ordered it beyond wanting an excuse not to head back to his room at the Serenity Inn just yet.
When a shadow fell across the table, he glanced up expecting to see the waitress with his check. Instead, he found a woman wearing a halter top, short shorts and a friendly grin. She didn’t wait for an invitation, but slid into the booth opposite him.
“You’re Walter Price, right?” she said.
“I am.”
“Raylene nailed the description,” she said, looking impressed. “For a woman who doesn’t get out, she sure does know the hottest men in town.”
Walter held back a sigh of resignation. “You must be Rory Sue Lewis.”
She looked surprised. “How’d you know?”
“Raylene mentioned you. I figured sooner or later you’d turn up, whether I came looking for you or not.”
“Yeah, she’s matchmaking,” Rory Sue said without a hint of dismay. “But she also said you might be looking for a house or a condo. I could probably live without the meddling, but I never turn my back on a solid real estate lead. That’s one thing I learned from my mom.” She studied him intently. “So, are you? Looking for some property, I mean?”
“First tell me how you knew I’d be here tonight. I assume this isn’t a chance encounter.”
“Raylene said you always eat either here or at Wharton’s around six-thirty. Since I was in the mood for pizza myself, I started here.”
Walter chuckled at Raylene’s audacity in setting this up without clearing it with him, and in her apt description of Rory Sue’s methodology. “Okay, yes, I’d like to find a place to buy. I don’t have time to do a lot of looking, but if the right thing came along, I’d be interested,” he admitted. “Did she explain that I’m waiting for a deal to come through on my house in Alabama?”
“She filled me in. We can work around that. If you can spare a few minutes now to tell me what you’d like, I’ll line up the perfect places and have you all moved in by this time next month.” She eyed the remaining pizza. “Hey, are you going to eat the rest of this?”
“Help yourself.” He beckoned the waitress, then asked Rory Sue, “What would you like to drink?”
“A diet cola will do,” she said, already biting into the first slice of pizza. She sighed with undisguised pleasure. “I only allow myself to eat this once a month. It’s way too fattening otherwise.”
“I’ve noticed,” Walter said, thinking of his own expanding waistline. Maybe he would take Ronnie Sullivan up on his invitation to join him, Cal Maddox, Tom McDonald and some of the other men in town to shoot hoops sometime.
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with your body,” she said, giving him a frank survey. “I did mention you’re hot, didn’t I?”
Walter had been hearing some variation of that since high school. It no longer had the power to seduce him. He’d realized how little looks mattered. He’d prefer it these days if someone told him he was living his life with integrity.
“Is that part of your sales spiel?” he asked Rory Sue.
“Nope, just an observation. I pretty much say what’s on my mind.”
“I imagine that gets you into trouble from time to time.”
“Not so much with men,” she said candidly. “They seem to appreciate knowing where they stand with me. I don’t have a lot of women friends, though.”
“Not even Raylene?”
“Not really. She, Annie and Sarah are tight, but I’m a couple of years younger.” She gave him a chagrined look. “And then there was a bit of a misunderstanding when Sarah thought I was after Travis.”
Walter was finding the conversation more intriguing by the minute. “Were you?”
“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “What woman with a libido wouldn’t have been, but he only had eyes for Sarah.” She winced, then added, “Sorry. See what I mean? I say whatever comes into my head. I didn’t think about the fact that Sarah’s your ex-wife. Does it bother you that she and Travis are together?”
Walter didn’t think the situation called for an in-depth discussion of his very complicated feelings on that subject. “My marriage was over a long time ago,” he said, and left it at that.
She regarded him skeptically. “There’s an edge in your voice that tells me you’re not as happy about that as you’d like everyone to believe.”
Surprised that she was that astute, he decided he shouldn’t sell her short again. “The situation is what it is. I thought we were going to talk about real estate.”
Rory Sue immediately sat up straighter, displaying an intriguing amount of cleavage, especially when she leaned forward and reached for a piece of paper from his notepad. “You mind?” she asked, also borrowing his pen. “Okay, let’s get started. Describe the perfect house.”
Walter thought of the large colonial he and Sarah had lived in back in Alabama. It had been chosen by his mother, mostly because it was the largest house in the most impressive neighborhood in town. He’d never felt comfortable there. Nor had Sarah, though she’d done her best to make the echoing, too-large rooms seem cozy and inviting.
“Something small,” he said at once. “Three bedrooms, a couple of baths, maybe a patio out back. A nice yard for the kids. Nothing fancy.”
“You need a gourmet kitchen?”
“I need a functioning kitchen.”
“You know the house you just described, don’t you? The one Sarah’s living in right now. Maybe you could buy it when she and Travis get married.”
Walter shook his head. “Right style, but I want something I can move into now. Besides, I think Raylene’s planning to buy it.” They’d talked about that on several occasions. He’d tried telling her it would be a mistake, that she was getting entirely too comfortable in her hideout. Maybe, though, Dr. McDaniels would get through to her and she’d move on, find her own home and her own life.
“Do you prefer a house or a condo?” Rory Sue asked. “Something brand new or older?”
“A house,” he said at once, wanting something that would feel at least marginally like a home, rather than a bachelor pad. “And older, with full-grown trees and a lawn, not a patch of bare ground with no shade.”
She nodded. “Got it. When are you free? Can you give me an hour tomorrow?”
Walter was startled by the hint of efficiency. He’d labeled her more of a scatterbrain, which just proved his instincts about women were no better than they use to be. Heaven knew, he’d misjudged Sarah often enough.
“That soon?” he asked.
She shrugged. “You said you wanted to move in now. Why mess around? I’ll go through my listings tonight and be ready to show you three or four things tomorrow. You tell me when.”
“Five o’clock?” he suggested.
“Works for me,” she said, then gave him a look that was more impish than come-hither. “And if I’ve found the perfect place, you can buy me dinner to celebrate. How’s that for a deal?”
