by Risk, Mona
“I am sorry for your loss, Monsieur,” Luc said, always the noble gentleman.
Rutherford took a deep breath and exhaled. “Seeing your daughter, Dr. Crane, brought back memories. What an amazing resemblance. Now that I think of it, she also looks like my grandson.”
That was the last straw. Olivia recovered her calm. She’d had it with the old man’s uncomfortable comparisons. “Mr. Rutherford, before we digress any further, can you tell us what brought you here?”
“I wanted to ask Dr. McMillan a favor.” Rutherford’s piercing eyes came back to her. “My grandson said he refuses to see a shrink. Is there any way you can see him out of here?” He tapped the arm of his chair with his arthritic fingers. “Come to the house. Talk to him there, and—”
“No, sir,” Olivia interrupted, her voice firm. “To treat a patient we need to have his written consent. Diagnostic sessions can be done here, at the hospital, or at the Crisis Center. We can’t allow exceptions.”
The old man’s lips tightened. “What if Jeremy doesn’t want to come?”
Olivia opened her hands, palms up, and shrugged. “We can’t force someone to be treated or assessed against his will.” She glanced at Luc, pleased that she’d almost got rid of the Rutherford case. A hint of a smile played on his lips. He understood her so well.
“He must come to see you. He’s my only heir. His parents died in Nepal during one of their crazy trips abroad. I’m not going to leave my fortune to Jeremy in his present state of mind. He would waste it in no time.” Rutherford snorted in disgust. “Maybe I should disinherit him.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” To be honest, she was delighted. If Jeremy refused to come for treatment, her main problem would disappear. One of them anyway. She would still have to convince Melissa to forget about her father’s picture.
She stood to signify the end of the meeting.
Apparently not ready to go, Rutherford remained seated in his chair, his back straight, a deep scowl furrowing his forehead.
“I’ll have to leave you with Dr. Lucien. I have a class in a few minutes,” Olivia said as she gathered her purse and notepad.
Mr. Rutherford snapped his fingers. “That’s it. I’ve found a solution.”
“You did?” Olivia dropped back onto her chair, struggling to hide her disappointment. “What’s that?”
“I’ll threaten to disinherit him and give my money to charity. I worked hard to make my fortune. If only there were someone else left in my family to inherit.”
Distress mixed with anger in Olivia’s heart. Money. That was all that counted in this family. The only thing Jeremy cared about.
“As you wish, Monsieur,” Luc said with a quick glance toward Olivia. She didn’t like the visible accusation in Luc’s eyes. She was depriving Melissa of her father’s family and inheritance. As if Olivia gave a damn about the Rutherfords and their money.
“Yes.” The grandfather’s lips stretched into a satisfied smile. “Jeremy has never worked. He’s used to an easy life. If he has no money to pay his lawyers, he’ll realize he can end up in jail. Trust me, he’ll come.” The old man rose to his feet with a creaking of his knees. “Thank you both for your time.”
Luc opened the door for Rutherford. He stepped out just as Melissa sauntered into the hallway. “Mom, at what time are we going home?”
“Lovely girl,” Rutherford mumbled as he stared at her. “You remind me so much of my granddaughter. You don’t look like your mom, though. You probably resemble Mr. Crane.”
“Mr. Crane?” Melissa asked.
“Your father.”
Olivia gasped, hating the man’s sentimentality.
Melissa smiled sadly. “My dad is Joe Madden. He died as a war hero, a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry, Melissa. I’m glad we met today.” He turned around, muttering about an unfair world, and walked down the corridor.
Olivia stabbed his back with a look of revulsion. No matter how old or lonely, the old man was Jeremy’s grandfather.
“Olivia, we need to talk.” Luc touched her shoulder to get her attention. “After your class?”
Right now she needed to dunk her head under cold water to clear her thoughts, but she barely had time to rush to her students. “After the class, I have another patient.”
Luc had helped her maintain her cool during the most difficult situation she’d been confronted with in many years. “We’ll talk later. Thanks for your help.”
For a second, she had the crazy desire to wrap her arms around his neck and ask him to take her away from her problems and her loveless life.
A deep sigh escaped her. Crazy thoughts indeed when she stood in a university hallway with her daughter beside her and students bustling toward their classes.
“Melissa, do me a favor. Stop ambling around in the hallways. You must have some homework to do. Go to my office and stay there until I’m ready to go home.”
“Okay, Mom.” Melissa shook her head. “You’re really in a lousy mood today. I hope you feel better by the time we go home.”
“Melissa,” Olivia said in a warning tone.
“Looks like it’s going to be a fun night,” her daughter mumbled.
“Au revoir, Melissa.” Luc’s smile didn’t thaw the frosty atmosphere.
“Hey Luc, why don’t you come with Mom to the house? You can talk to her there. You can meet my grandmother. And you’ll see the color of the leaves in our countryside. It’s so beautiful at this time of the year.”
“Olivia?”
Luc waited.
She nodded. “Whatever. See you later.” Olivia tossed the word over her shoulder as she strode away. She was used to tackling one problem per day. But today she’d had more than her share.
A problem per hour. How many hours were left before the day would end?
****
An hour later, Luc strolled along the corridor toward Olivia’s classroom. She should be out soon. Unable to control his curiosity, he paused in front of the door and peered through the glass pane. Olivia pointed at a screen, the slide showing a diagram and notes. Luc smiled, delighted to see another professional side of her. Olivia, the professor, was poised and calm in spite of the turmoil she’d faced an hour ago.
She turned off the projector and switched the light on, concluding her class. Luc backed against the opposite wall, waiting. A couple of minutes later the door opened, and the students poured out, followed by their professor.
Luc came forward. “Dr. Crane, please, when is your next consultation?” he asked while several students eyed him.
“In a few minutes. I’m on my way, Dr. Luc. Do you want to sit in?”
“Definitely.” They hurried away from the crowd of students.
“I don’t have time to talk now,” Olivia said as they rushed toward the Crisis Center.
“I know.” He looked at her with concern, noticing the purple shadows under her eyes. “You must be exhausted physically and mentally.”
“I’m used to coping. I’ll survive, as long as you respect my decision to protect Melissa and don’t interfere.”
He didn’t want to add to her worries now. “Olivia, I will personally never reveal anything to Melissa. We will discuss it later.”
“There will be no more discussion.” Olivia stopped before entering the consultation room, propped her fists on her waist, and narrowed her eyes. “Stay out of it. Period.”
Luc arched his brow. Without a word, he turned around and opened the door for her.
A young woman waited in a chair, a baby in her arms. She tried to stand when she saw them.
“Please, don’t bother, Julia.” Olivia gestured to her to remain seated as she settled in a chair across from her. “You brought your baby,” Olivia said with a smile.
“I’m sorry. My babysitter was not available today. But it’s okay, Brendon’s asleep.”
“No problem. Julia, I realize you’re used to talking with me alone. Dr. Luc is consulting in our hospital. Do you mind if he sits in w
ith us?”
“Not at all, Dr. Crane.”
Olivia reached for the medical record on the cocktail table and handed it to Luc who pulled a chair next to her. “This is a follow-up visit for Julia. She’s made excellent progress in the last year.”
Julia looked adoringly at her baby. “When I think I was about to get rid of him. Now I feel blessed that I had depression when I was pregnant. It forced me to seek help.” She cradled the baby tighter and glanced toward Luc. “Dr. Crane has been wonderful to me. She encouraged me to keep my baby and prescribed medication for my anxiety.”
Luc smiled his approval.
“How are you feeling now, Julia?” Olivia asked with a gentle tone.
“Great. I started working part-time in a bookstore. I go twice a week and leave my baby with a neighbor. She’s very nice.”
“Good. What about the migraines?”
“I haven’t had one in the last couple of weeks.”
“Any panic attacks? Are you still feeling hopeless?”
“No. On the contrary. My boyfriend came back. When he saw his son, he started crying. He said he’d made a huge mistake when he asked me to get rid of the baby. Now he wants us to get married so Brendon can have a real family.”
If her arched brow was any indication, Olivia was not convinced. When would she ever accept the fact that a child needed a father as well as a mother?
“What do you want, Julia?” Olivia asked in her professional tone.
“I still love him.”
“Love is not everything, Julia. You need to be in control of your life and your child’s life. Don’t surrender your responsibilities to anyone else. Even your baby’s father.”
Luc scowled, more interested in Olivia’s philosophy than in her patient’s case—a twisted philosophy in his opinion.
“He’s always been good to me, but he panicked and left when I said I was pregnant. I’m going to ask him to prove himself before I say yes.”
“Very smart decision.” Olivia’s eyebrow relaxed, and a satisfied smile settled on her lips.
So, Prove yourself was the name of the game to win a woman’s heart in Olivia’s book. Luc crossed his arms on his chest. No problem. Except that he had probably messed up big time on Olivia’s scale when he insisted she tell the truth to Melissa.
“Any crying?” Olivia asked her patient.
“Last week, I felt like crying without reason, then I hugged my baby and relaxed.”
“Really? Are you still taking your Zoloft in the morning?”
“I stopped for a week. I was feeling so good I thought I didn’t need it anymore. Then when I started crying for no reason, I took it again.”
“Julia, you can’t stop your medicine just like that.”
“Am I going to take it all my life?”
Olivia shook her head. “When you’re ready I will decrease the dose gradually, and eventually we’ll stop it. But not yet.”
The baby started crying. The young mother raised him against her shoulder and patted his back. “I’m sorry.” She pulled a bottle out of her diaper bag and slid the nipple into her son’s mouth.
“He’s a beautiful baby and big for three months,” Olivia said.
“Would you like to hold Brendon, Dr. Crane?” Without waiting, Julia handed baby, bottle, and burp cloth to Olivia.
Olivia cradled the infant against her chest and cooed at him as she brought the bottle to his lips. A smell of milk clung around her, quite endearing. Mesmerized, Luc gazed at her. He had seen her as a loving mother to Melissa, but this image of Olivia with a baby stole his breath.
Pain shot through him as he imagined his little Paul in her arms. She’d have been a fabulous mother...if she’d wanted to give herself a chance. If she could get herself to trust him and stop hiding behind her secrets and self-imposed duties.
Luc swallowed. He’d always known he wanted to make love to her and keep her forever as his wife, but now...
Now he realized how badly he wanted a child.
Their child.
Wake up, mon ami.
He cursed under his breath. Olivia didn’t want a husband and certainly not another child. She liked her life as it was.
An empty life. A dull, empty life like the one he’d lived for the last ten years.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I’m done.” Olivia stretched her arms up after the door closed behind her last patient. “What a day.” As she slumped into her chair, she threw a sidelong glance at Luc. How could he look so dashingly fresh at the end of such a strenuous day? “I wish I could take a shower and climb into bed with a good book.”
Actually cuddling with Luc in her lonely bed would top her list of relaxation remedies. She lowered her head to prevent him from noticing any treacherous blush.
Luc sat beside her, his gaze glued to her. “I can drive Melissa home.”
She shook her head. “Nope. You don’t know my daughter. I’ll never hear the end of it if I’m a no-show two days in a row.”
“You think so?” Luc dragged his chair closer, peering at her. “Why? Don’t you think she loves you and appreciates all that you are doing for her?”
“Of course she loves me, but you know what teenagers are like.” Hmm, stupid thing to say. What did he know about teenagers? The only ones he saw were sick kids.
“Olivia, what are you really afraid of?” Luc shifted, and his elbow dug into the chair arm as he angled his head toward her.
“What?” She swiveled to face him. “Luc, don’t start.” Lord, she’d just daydreamed about him as a lover. Then he’d quashed her fantasy by pulling out his shrink’s act.
“I will give you my professional advice for the last time. Then do what you want.” Cupping his chin, he slid his fingers back and forth along his chiseled jaw in a hypnotizing motion.
She’d rather skate her own fingers across his light stubble. “I really don’t want your advice.” I want you. God, I want you so much. How long would she have to keep her emotions tucked in her suit pocket?
But Luc was dead set on giving his opinion. “Olivia, did you have counseling after your bad experience?”
“No, my parents were there for me. They helped and supported me when Melissa was born. I had to adjust to being a mother at eighteen, but in the end everything was great.” She smiled and then sighed.
“Everything is obviously not great. You should seek help. Try to be objective.” The tender streak in his blue eyes darkened with concern. “Imagine another woman in your position. Don’t you think she would need help to assess her problem and find the courage to tackle the situation?”
She frowned at his firm tone. Earlier in the day, she’d gotten defensive when he’d asked a similar question. Not anymore.
During lunchtime, Melissa’s comments had hit hard. While Olivia lurked behind a false sense of security, her daughter was making plans that threatened their easygoing life. Besides, in all other areas, Olivia was a doer, used to taking action and control. So why not now, when the most precious person in her life was at stake?
“Maybe you’re right.” If an acquaintance had told her about a similar problem, she’d advise her to get therapy. “But I can’t do it. I mean, not officially. I can’t go to any of my colleagues in Cincinnati.” Her pulse accelerated at the idea of her story typed on a computer, printed on several sheets of paper, and stored in a file.
Dr. Olivia Crane, the respected professor of Psychiatry seeing a shrink. She might lose her credibility, even her position and her patients, if anyone heard about her personal issues. “I absolutely refuse to have a medical record on this subject.” She blew out a small frustrated breath. Her gaze locked with Luc’s, willing him to understand.
He interrupted his fingers’ annoying motion along his jaws to pinch his chin and study her through narrowed eyes. “Would you allow me to analyze you?” He paused, hesitating for a few seconds. “We would cover only your past history.”
She bit her lip, thinking. Could she talk to Luc, let him help
her, share his assessment? He was one of the most prominent psychiatrists in the world. And he cared about her and Melissa.
“Can you be objective enough?” she asked as the idea began to sink in.
His eyebrows shot up. “You can stop anytime if I am not objective.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—” She hoped he wasn’t insulted.
“I know.” He inched away from her and leaned against the back of his chair. “We will not discuss our relationship.”
“Luc, you’re the best psychiatrist I’ve ever known.”
“Merci. I am honored.” He acknowledged her compliment with a quick smile and a nod before a serious frown knitted his forehead. “So, what is your decision?”
Maybe it was time for her to stop running away. Time to face the demons of her past. She raised her head to meet his eyes and allowed herself a bitter smile. “Would you like me to sign a written consent?”
He rubbed his knuckles gently against her cheek. “Non, chérie. Just trust me for once.”
“Go ahead.” She held up her hands in surrender. “We may as well get the initial visit over with, Dr. Toulon-Chatel, although I don’t know if my insurance can afford your exorbitant fees.”
He gave her a devastating smile. “Consider it a doctor-to-doctor favor.” He pushed his chair to face her and linked his fingers together on his lap. “Tell me, what type of childhood did you have?” he asked with the same gentle, professional tone they both used with their patients.
She relaxed against the back of her chair. “A wonderful childhood.”
A picture of her parents’ house popped up behind her close eyelids. The red brick house where she, and later her daughter, grew up. She raked her fingers through her hair, rested her cheeks in her cupped hands and smiled. Her parents had given her a great deal of emotional stability.
“My father was much older than my mother. He lost his first wife and two children in a car accident. It took him years to recover. At fifty, he married an Italian nurse twenty years younger than him. He was delighted by my birth. I was loved and spoiled.”