"Yes, he did. Well, actually, he simply struck you. An assault is an unlawful attack, and as I said, you'd consented."
Wow. I expected him to deny it. He stops my forward rant in its tracks.
"I'm not going to attempt to rationalize it. To you, someone who was new to the lifestyle, it was an extremely negative experience, and you have every right to feel whatever you need to feel about it. But you need to understand, you asked him to show you just how bad it could get. That's not to say you were at fault, which is absolutely not the case, but you need to know that it was done at your request. You were doing it for him, because you both cared deeply for one another. You wanted to give him what he needed, and in the events that followed, you made him realize that he didn't need that part of the lifestyle any more.
"In what kind of lifestyle would someone consent to, or worse, enjoy being beaten?" I'm still shrieking. I need to keep it together, or I'll have a nervous breakdown. "Who else knew about this?" I demand.
"There are only two people in Edward's life who have full knowledge of his past: you, and me. Grace and Carrick know about the affair, which ended almost ten years ago, but they have no knowledge of the lifestyle Edward had lived until you came into his life. He'd prefer that his parents' knowledge continue to be limited. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor are aware of some of the technical aspects, and they've signed away the right to discuss it. Your friend Kate found some literature you'd left in the open once, and you managed to derail her questions. No one else knows, or needs to know. This kind of lifestyle is a social taboo, and sharing knowledge of it would do far more harm than good. Which leads us back to your original question… what kinds of people do you suspect might be drawn to the submissive aspect of such a relationship? I want you to think about this one."
"Aren't I supposed to be the one asking the questions?" I must look appalled, because John's face softens considerably, and it's been more than understanding since we began.
"Please, Krissy. Think about it."
"Fine." My head swarms with images of naked forest nymphs in one of those silly online video games, prancing around a large male, fawning over him, and then submitting to his inevitable wrath. But this isn't a game, and there really are women… and possibly men… out there who crave this idea of submitting. But who would do that? "Maybe someone with daddy issues?" I offer.
"That's a reasonable and quite correct guess. Who else?"
I shake my head. "Someone who was abused…" like Edward, my heart tells me. But then he chose to dominate others… I'm on to something. "But Edward said he was abused… and then he became dominant, so that can't be right…"
"No, you're exactly right," Flynn tells me. "A traditional submissive is most often one who was forced to submit as a child and then carried that mindset into adulthood. Edward was treated as such, but then was introduced to the lifestyle by someone who was deeply involved already. He was provided the training, and frankly, had the intelligence, to grasp the Dominant side of the lifestyle, and he embraced it. Edward is hardly what I could call weak-minded… actually, he's one of the strongest men I've ever met. The demons he's confronted, the decisions he's been forced to make, have made him rise above. I'm sure you've noticed his finality about things you may have discussed. It's his way of coping with things he feels may leave his realm of control; once he's decided something and stands firm, you can bet your life he'll live by his decision. This is how I am sure, and you should be as well, that he would never hurt you."
"But he already did."
"And the act almost destroyed him. Krissy, it happened once, and under very controlled conditions. You've both spoken to me about it. You knew it was part of the lifestyle. You'd already decided that the sexual aspect of your relationship was more than agreeable, and you reasoned that if you knew how bad the opposite end of the spectrum could be, anything in between would be bearable, even pleasurable. He stated how many times he would strike, and he didn't deviate. After it was done, he tried to comfort you, but you wanted nothing of it. You talked briefly; he asked why you'd asked him to do it, and you revealed that you'd fallen in love with him. It shocked him, he decided he was no good for you and you parted ways. It was less than a week later that he contacted you to reconcile, and by that time, you'd realized that the physical pain you'd endured was insignificant compared to the pain of losing him, and so you reconciled. By then, he'd begun to understand how badly he'd behaved, and vowed never to hurt you again. And ever since, he never has."
The room is spinning. I close my eyes, willing my mind to rest, but it's still deciding whether to be in full alert or to succumb to the numbness. I vote for the latter, and my conscience agrees, for once. "He's not like anything you've told me today."
"That's true, he isn't, and he hasn't been for a very long time. His Dominant nature rears its head from time to time, but usually in the context of your well-being. For instance, he told me about his little slip before your recent trip to Portland, and he feels very badly about that."
Edward told him? "Is nothing in my life private anymore?"
"Of course it is. Nothing said here leaves this room, unless you and Edward, together, decide to discuss it. Edward was quite upset about what he'd said, and asked my advice on how to make amends."
"So you're the reason he gave me the puppies," I accuse.
"I'm sorry… puppies?"
"The puppies he brought home to say he was sorry."
Flynn is startled. He swivels his chair toward the desk and presses a button. "Could you send Mr. King in, please."
I swallow. I'm not ready to see him again, but it doesn't look like I have a choice in the matter. Flynn's eyes are trained on mine, and a hint of understanding passes between us. He's on my side, I think.
"Welcome back, Edward. Please, have a seat."
I can't look at him. I see his body pass through the room and peripherally sink into the adjacent chair, but I'm still too raw to focus on him. I fear if I see his eyes, I may fall apart.
"Do you want to tell me why you've decided that buying your wife's happiness is a good idea?" Flynn chides him. The tone has an edge of humor, at least, I think it does.
Edward is silent for a long moment. "Um, I don't believe I understand," he says quietly.
"Krissy tells me you've made some furry additions to the family.
I hear an audible sigh next to me. "Oh, that. Yes, there were puppies for adoption in our neighborhood, I brought two of them home before the weekend. What's that to do with anything?"
"Might I ask why? It appears to me that you chose to cover your verbal blunder of last week by buying your wife presents again. I've told you before that this doesn't provide a long term solution to your problems."
I think I see what Flynn is doing. He can't chastise Edward for something he's done so long ago, something that had been laid to rest, but he can for something more recent. He's doing this for my benefit, to make me see Edward as nothing more than a human being who makes mistakes and learns from them. He's much better than I thought.
Edward hesitates again, stumped, I think. "In my defense, it wasn't an attempt to placate, it was an effort of love. Krissy likes this particular breed. No one in our household or among the staff is allergic, and I thought they'd be good companions for Ryan, and Jason's daughter has wanted a dog and can't otherwise have one. It made everyone happy all around. I don't see the point in this line of questioning."
"So you did this for everyone, is that right?"
"Is there a point to this? I'd rather like to know if my wife will allow me to return home after I conclude business in New York on Friday."
So much for Flynn's distraction; the tables have turned on me again. But thankfully, I think I was right about Flynn's shift in loyalty, at least for the moment. "Krissy, is there any clarification you need? Anything either of us can explain for you? This session is more about your comfort than anything else."
I shake my head. I don't think I can handle any more information for a while.
"All right. I'm available any time you want to talk, and Edward has already assured me that he'll be sensitive to all of your needs in this matter. You're in charge. But can you agree that what we've discussed today remains confidential among the three of us?"
I nod. It's the least I can do… besides, if there was someone to tell, I doubt they'd believe me. I can't even talk to Kate… I love her, but she doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut. I imagine I'll be back here, in this room, every day this week. Right now I just want to go back to sleep, to pretend this didn't happen.
"We'll get back to you on your question, Edward. Krissy, would you prefer a separate ride home?"
Do I? For some reason, I don't feel unsafe. Perhaps it's the numbness I felt earlier, I don't know. I shake my head.
"Do you need to speak to me alone before you go?" Flynn is really trying to reassure me, and I appreciate it. I wish I had it in me to be thankful.
I shake my head again.
Flynn nods. Our eye contact finally breaks, and he rises. "We'll be in touch. An open line of communication is the way forward. Let me know what either of you need."
We're silent in the elevator. Peripherally, I see that Edward has his hands in his pockets. I think he's trying to look the least bit threatening. He holds the car door for me to get in, but doesn't slide in next to me; he gets into the front passenger seat instead.
"SeaTac, please," he quietly orders.
Taylor pulls into traffic, and we briefly connect in the rearview mirror. I think he can tell that something is wrong. He seems to have a real sense of our family. It's a long, quiet drive, and I stare out the window. It's a better view than the back of Edward's head. He hasn't turned once to speak to me, or even look at me. I wish I knew what he was thinking, and it dawns on me… is he angry with me? Because I didn't say anything after he came back into the room… he could have taken it as my decision that I'm done with him. Wait, what am I saying? Am I considering letting him close to me again, after I know what he's done? Am I? It shocks me that the answer isn't a definite, resounding 'no.' He's hit me. Flynn rationalized it, and everything he said made sense. Even the things he asked me to rationalize made sense. Is it Edward's fault that he is the way he is? Or was… because aside from the relative insignificance of what he said to me in his office the other day, he's been in no way the person described to me this morning. I don't know what to think. And I continue to think, and not to think, all the way to the airport, and we're there before I come to any conclusions.
Both Taylor and Edward get out; we're not at the curb but on the tarmac, and there's a jet with a King Enterprises logo on the side. There's another of his toys I was unaware of. The rear hatch opens, and I hear luggage being carried out and the door clicking shut again, and then Taylor's form is carrying two rather large suitcases up the stairs and into the aircraft. I wasn't aware he was going… so how am I going to get home?
The back door opposite my seat opens, and Edward is there, blocking my view of the plane. I have no choice but to finally look at him. His eyes are weary and sad, his voice, quiet. "Sawyer is coming with me, he's already on board; you'll have Taylor to look after you this week." He looks down at the leather seat. "Krissy… please call me if you need anything, or even just to talk… I love you, so much."
My heart dies a little, absorbing his pain. He softly closes the door and walks to the ramp, exchanges words with Taylor and ascends the steps. He turns back for a moment, placing his hand over his heart. Then he's gone.
Taylor slides into the driver's seat and maneuvers us back to the highway. I look back in the direction of the airport, and the timing must be right, because a moment later, I see the small white jet ascend, bank east, and then disappear into the clouds. I sigh. I have way too much to think about, and though I'm mentally exhausted, I need a distraction.
"Taylor, what are your plans for Sophie this afternoon?"
"She wants to go swimming, Ma'am. I'd planned to take her to the public pool in Magnolia. Did you have something else in mind?"
"Oh. Not at all. Um, you're welcome to use the downstairs pool at the house, if you like." I'm not sure what I was hoping for, perhaps an idea what I should do with myself. Perhaps I'll take Ryan somewhere… but where? We haven't really left the house except to go to Bellevue, and aside from playing with his toys and watching the stars at night, I don't really know what he likes to do.
Taylor interrupts my thoughts. "That's a kind offer, but I think Sophie hopes to meet some friends from the community center. Would you and Ryan like to join us?"
"What? Oh, that's okay. You should spend the day with Sophie." I hope he didn't think I was inviting myself along. Now I feel terribly self-conscious.
"It would be our pleasure to have you along. My daughter is very fond of you." Taylor's voice is gentle, avuncular even.
"Gail should come along too, then, don't you think?" And what would Edward think? Wait, am I kidding? I don't give a hoot what he thinks. I make a conscious decision not to give him another thought for at least a few hours. My brain needs a break.
"Are you suggesting she take the afternoon off?" he chuckles.
"Why not?" Something dawns on me. "Is Edward still in charge even when he's out of town?"
"Ma'am, I take my orders from you when he's away, unless it conflicts with your safety. Then I default to my own judgment, even if it goes against Mr. King's instructions. He's asked me to look after you this week, and an afternoon picnic at the pool seems like a good way to do that. We'll have to bring security, of course."
Wow. I don't think I've ever heard such a lengthy statement from Edward's right-hand man before, or a laugh, for that matter. "Okay. Count us in."
~oOo~
"Again, Mommy!"
"Again?" I say, mock-incredulously, flipping back to the first page. It's a short book, so why not? I read through, animating my voice at just the right parts. I somehow remember this book from childhood, a book about a young bunny named Morris who receives a 'disappearing bag' as a Christmas present, and hides throughout his house as his siblings search for him. There's skating, mixing, and beautification involved, and Ryan loves how silly it all is.
"Okay, Morris had to go to sleep, and now so do you," I tell him, closing the book and setting it on his side table.
"I not tired!" Ryan declares, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh you're not, are you?" I tease. "Well, if you don't sleep now, it'll be night forever, and tomorrow will never come."
Ryan gasps. "I seep, Mommy," he lisps.
I ruffle his soft, copper hair and press a kiss to his forehead. "Nighty night, Ryan-bear."
I wander down the hallway, willing forbidden thoughts to stay away, and failing miserably. I can't help but wonder where Edward is exactly, it must be late in the city but then, Edward doesn't often sleep, so I imagine he's somewhere productive. I stop at the portrait at the top of the stairs and consider it for a while. I've stopped here more times than I can count since I came here, and each time, I have a renewed sense of wonder for the two people, newly husband and wife, in the canvas photo. Edward is impeccably disheveled, hair mussed and bowtie undone, sitting slouched at the end of an iron bench, while I recline lengthwise in a pristine cream silk sheath dress, head resting in his lap, our fingers entwined. I try to see myself in that place. I looked so elegant, so content, so trusting, and Edward, he's so relaxed here. I haven't yet seen him this way; he's always so tense, so angst-ridden, as though the weight of the universe is upon him.
And then I'm looking up at him, as he smiles down at me. There's so much love in his expression, passionately wild almost; and then I'm in his arms as he swings me around on a dance floor as others watch, and then he's feeding me cake. It's exotic and sweet on my tongue. And then he kisses me, so deeply, lovingly. Is this real?
PART THREE
CHAPTER 14
~ KRISSY ~
"Mrs. King! Wake up, Krissy!"
"Thank God she didn't fall down the stairs…"
/>
"Get Dr. Trevelyan on the phone. Krissy!"
Someone's shaking me, tapping my face. I'm limp again, and the effort to push them away is weak. "Benches and cake," I mumble.
"Open your eyes, Mrs. King." That's Taylor. Definitely Taylor.
I squint, opening one eye cautiously, and then the other. Taylor's face is creased with worry.
"Welcome back, Mrs. King."
I blink for a moment, trying to get my bearings. "I did it again, didn't I?"
He nods. "Gail is getting your mother-in-law on the phone. How do you feel?"
I run through the usual checklist. Fingers and toes, check. Eyesight and hearing clear, check. Memory, yep… still missing. Head, doesn't hurt. More questions now, double-check. "Same as the other times."
"Okay. I'm going to help you to your bedroom, all right?"
I nod. It's weird, having another man carry me, but I'm sure it's something Edward would have insisted upon. Taylor is bulkier, his strength is more evident where Edward's is subtle. He sets me on the bed and Gail comes in behind him on one of the wireless handsets. "She's awake. All right, here she is." Gail holds out the phone to me. "Dr. Trevelyan, for you."
"HI Grace."
"Krissy, darling, I hear you're having a rough night. How do you feel?" I love the way she downplays it. Her reaction is so unlike Edward's, he'd be beside himself. Ugh, I can't get him out of my mind.
"I'm fine. Same as before. Tired, mostly."
"That sounds about right. I'm on my way there to look you over, otherwise we'll never hear the end of it from Edward. Would you like me to bring you anything?"
"Thank you, but that's not necessary. I think I just want to go to sleep."
"I'm coming anyway. Did you see anything new?"
"I think I saw parts of our wedding. I'd just been looking at the bench portrait at the top of the stairs. It was kind of comforting, but I don't remember it happening."
"That's too bad. It's only a matter of time; just keep believing that, all right?"
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