They browsed their menus for a few minutes and chose to order a tower of onion rings and mozzarella sticks to share. “Let’s pray one of our patients doesn’t walk in and see the artery-clogging choices we make in our lives,” Karen said, taking a long sip of her drink.
“We’ll just tell them we’re providing an example of what they shouldn’t do in their daily lives. We’re saving them with our bad examples.”
Karen gave him a dazzling smile and took a smaller sip. “It feels like forever since we’ve come out to do this. Everything calming down now that the trial is over?” She said it in a conversational tone, but her gaze was penetrating.
“I guess so. I don’t know. Everything’s been so different ever since the incident. Caitlin has put up all these walls, and I honestly don’t have any idea how to break them down. I try to talk to her, and she just completely closes down.” He took several gulps of his drink. He’d never had an opportunity to talk about this with anyone but his parents, and while they were great, they were uncomfortable with the topic. Whenever he brought it up, they were quick to change to another subject.
“That’s a completely reasonable reaction to trauma. Has she gone to talk to a therapist? I know several really good therapists she could speak with, if she’s interested. It could be extremely beneficial for her.” As Karen talked, she pulled a hair tie from her pocket, quickly pulled her hair back, and attempted to tame her curls. She was only partially successful.
Henry sighed loudly and gave her a half-hearted smile. “She was advised by everyone to speak with someone. Me, her parents, her doctor, the lawyer, the list goes on and on. She downright refuses. She gets angry whenever I bring it up, so I’ve stopped. You remember after the hysterectomy? She closed down then too, but she was at least willing to hear me out. This is totally different. Then she was sad, really sad. Now she’s just angry all the time. I try to be understanding. I really do, but some days it’s just so hard to deal with. I know it’s terrible to say, but sometimes I’m on the edge of just giving up.” He felt guilty for saying it out loud. Henry had never confessed this to anyone, and a part of him felt like he was betraying Caitlin by telling Karen this secret.
“But you don’t give up. That really counts. Don’t tell yourself anything otherwise. You, more than anyone, know how difficult being a caretaker to someone can be. We always think about the person who has the illness, but we never think about the people who surround them. It can be physically and emotionally draining to see someone day after day falling apart in front of you and not being able to help.”
Henry thought about Karen’s wife. She had been diagnosed with stage four colon cancer several months back and was now living on a ventilator in hospice. She would not be among the living within the next few months, possibly the next few weeks. He felt like a complete jerk for complaining to her.
“I’m so sorry, Karen. I honestly wasn’t thinking. It’s really not that bad. I just get frustrated sometimes.”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me. I think it’s useful for me to wallow in someone else’s issues on occasion. It gets me out of my head, which is a depressing place to be sometimes.” She smiled at him and took another drink, draining her glass. The waitress brought over their food. Karen requested another glass of wine. The waitress nodded and promised to be right back. She whisked away quickly with the empty glass and came back moments later with a fresh drink. Karen said, “You have got to love the service here.”
They ate their food and continued talking about lighter subjects. Henry told Karen about the bar his father had just opened with his buddies in Florida. He was thinking of taking Elise and Caitlin there for a few weeks before school started again. He thought that it would be a good thing for them to just escape the area for a little bit.
Karen told him about her oldest daughter. She was going to be graduating from high school the next year and revealed that she wanted to go into journalism. Karen lamented this career path and hoped that it was just a passing phase.
Henry was thoroughly enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had just talked to someone as a friend, without stressing about the conversation. At one point his phone rang. He looked down and saw a picture of his wife with a big grin on her face pointing out a bald eagle that was just outside the frame of the picture. He didn’t feel like being yelled at and hit the side of his phone to silence it.
They continued on for another hour before Karen said, “Okay, my friend. It’s time for me to head back to the real world. We have a big day on Monday, and I need some serious me time. Maybe I’ll meditate.”
“You? Meditate? It’ll never work. Your brain is like a bee on crack.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, placed a few bills on the table, and walked around to give him a hug. “Have a good weekend, Henry.”
Henry stood to hug her back and said, “You too, Karen. Drive safe.”
After Karen left Henry continued to sit and sip on his beer. He stared up at the rugby match on the large flat screen TV behind the bar without the images actually penetrating. His mind moved from his conversation with Karen to his wife to the bastard who had ruined their lives. He could still envision Arthur’s smug face when the judge sentenced him to two years in prison. Henry had wanted to run up to Arthur and beat him to a bloody pulp when the ruling was passed. Two years was nothing. That man deserved to rot in prison for the torment he caused Caitlin. Instead he would serve his time, possibly reduce it for good behavior, and then he would be back on the streets attacking some other poor woman.
Henry had no doubt Arthur’s financial status was the reason for his light sentencing. After Caitlin had told him what happened, Henry researched everything he could about Arthur. Apparently, his great grandfather had been an oil tycoon and a founder of one of the most profitable oil companies in the United States, ensuring his family would be loaded for generations to come. As far as Henry could tell, Arthur hadn’t ever done anything of note except be born to uber rich parents.
Arthur had been married to a high-ranking attorney in New York for several years. They divorced shortly after she gave birth to their son, and she retained full custody of the boy. Henry had a horrifying insight when she took the stand against Arthur. She looked so similar to Caitlin that they could be sisters. Her straight, blonde hair was cut in a severe a-line cut, and her blue eyes were nearly the exact shade of Caitlin’s.
She informed the jury of the twisted pleasures that her ex-husband had subjected her to. Some were borderline sadistic. Henry thought about him doing those things to Caitlin, and he clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. Any remaining anger he’d harbored toward Caitlin for accepting the slime ball’s invitation to tea evaporated; her only crime was being to trusting and looking too much like someone else.
Even with the damning evidence mounted against Arthur, he still had a line of character witnesses that came to his defense. One woman stood out among them all. She was an elderly woman named Martha who co-owned the tea house Caitlin had gone to the night of the incident. She raved about how sweet and wonderful and amazing Arthur was. She insisted a terrible mistake had been made. In her mind, no way could Arthur have committed a crime against anyone. She insinuated that Caitlin had made the whole thing up, because Arthur was too much of a gentleman to attempt to sleep with a married woman. She portrayed Caitlin as a bored, lonely housewife who was seeking the thrill and companionship of another man. When she was turned down, she must have concocted this elaborate ruse to ruin the saintly man.
Henry’s blood boiled as Martha spoke. He wanted to shake her as hard as he could and show her the traumatized woman he went home to every night. He wanted her to see how Caitlin shrunk back at the simplest touch from him, her husband, because of what that monster did to her. The rage that encapsulated him was unending. He had never felt anything like it before. Instead of acting on it, he sat back and listened a she spat on his wife’s name. He didn’t think he could feel more hate until Arthur took the stand.
<
br /> Arthur wove an elaborate tale of complete bullshit. He spoke of how Caitlin came onto him for months. The notes he found in his bouquets had been hidden in there for him to find. It was her way of expressing her love for him secretly. He told them how she had expressed sadness in her relationship, how the spark had died long ago. According to him, they had started an affair well before the night in question. As he spoke, he turned toward Henry and Caitlin and gave a nearly imperceptible wink. Caitlin turned two shades whiter and fled from the courtroom. Henry found out later she had vomited profusely in the trash can outside.
Henry fantasized, often he had been the one to stop the bastard. But it wasn’t tiny scissors he used. It was a trench knife. He stabbed over and over until Arthur was an unrecognizable pulp of blood and flesh.
Henry stopped suddenly, pushing away the dark thoughts. He looked down at his watch and saw it was almost 7:30. He took one last, long drag of his beer and threw some money onto the table.
As he walked out of the bar, he remembered the phone call from his wife. He pulled his phone out and was surprised to see he had a voicemail. Caitlin never left messages. If it was important, she would send a text. Instead of listening to the message, he called her phone. It went directly to voicemail. That was even more strange. He hit the button to listen to his message. The mechanical woman’s voice on the line informed him that he had one new message.
“Dad… Please…” His daughter’s soft voice came on the line. He heard what sounded like hammering in the background. “We can’t get out.”
Caitlin’s voice rose, shrieking, “Please! Let me out! Let me out!” She sounded hysterical, and Henry felt as if his stomach had fallen completely out of his body.
“Dad, please help!” Chase began barking frantically as Elise’s voice raised to a shrill tone. “What’s happening?! No! Help!! Dad, Help!!!”
The line cut off. To listen to this message again press four. To delete press seven…
Chapter Six
Caitlin
The air conditioning started up, mussing Caitlin’s hair. She lay face down on her bed, groggy and nauseous. She couldn’t remember how many glasses of wine she had consumed the night before. It was all a blur, intermingled with a horrible nightmare of herself and Elise trapped in a room that was slowly filling with ice cold water. It had been so vivid. She could still hear the shrieks emanating from her daughter and feel the blinding panic that had built inside of her. Anxiety was a bitch.
Her doctor would have told her it was a side effect from post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD had been an early diagnosis after her time with Arthur. It came with a lovely prescription for Xanax and a referral to a psychiatrist. Caitlin took the Xanax and threw out the referral. The last thing she needed was to relive that night with another person. She had enough of that with the police and lawyers.
Exhaustion filled her, and she decided she would roll over and go back to sleep when the scent of carnations, lilies, and other wild flowers invaded her nostrils. Henry must have gotten a new air freshener. She was more than a little irritated he had chosen that particular scent. He knew how much she disliked the smell of flowers. She supposed she should be grateful the mix didn’t contain lavender. Deciding to deal with it later, she attempted to return to sleep.
The persistent scent permeated her nostrils, and no matter how hard she tried she could not escape it. After a few more minutes of tossing back and forth she gave up. Throwing the covers off, she opened her eyes. It took her a moment to process what she saw.
She was clearly in the guest room bed. She was holding the brown and turquoise comforter in her right hand. The pillows were scattered around her, and the softness of the cotton sheets underneath her felt normal. That just made the sight in front of her even more incomprehensible.
Surrounding her on all sides was a vast, vibrant meadow. Wild flowers dotted her field of vision in brilliant reds, purples, yellows, and blues. The grasses stood tall, sifting gently in the breeze. At the edge of the meadow stood an enormous, pure white moose. It had its head lowered to the ground and appeared to be nonchalantly plucking at the greenery that littered the area. The creature slowly raised its long neck up and stared at her as it chewed. She assumed it had to be male, judging by the giant antlers that crowned its head.
“Okay,” Caitlin said aloud, “Obviously I’m still dreaming. I guess it could be worse. A meadow sure beats a room filling with frozen water.” The moose flicked his ears in her direction and continued slowly chewing. “I’m just going to lay back down, and hopefully the next time I wake up my bed will be back home.”
Caitlin lay back down and closed her eyes. Okay, I’m done with this dream now. She waited a few minutes and then opened her eyes again. The moose towered over her. He brought his head down and inhaled. His hot breath brushed her face as he exhaled, filled with a slightly cloying scent. Caitlin jumped back and squeaked. The moose was startled by her swift movement and let out a deep grunt of dissatisfaction. He turned his back on her and promptly urinated all over the side of her bed. He sauntered off to resume his grazing. She was convinced he was male after that display.
Caitlin looked on in disgust. She had never seen that amount of urine come out of any creature before, and she had worked at her mother’s chiropractor’s horse farm for a few summers when she was a teenager. The Clydesdale, Monty, could release a stream that would fill a trough. It was still better than what came out of his back end, and she sent silent thanks the moose hadn’t decided to leave something more pungent as a present. Seriously Caitlin? This is just a dream anyway. A very realistic, very wet dream. And not even one of the good ones.
Since she couldn’t wake up, she might as well explore her surroundings. Rolling over the side of the bed that remained dry, Caitlin put her feet down on the grass. The ground was damp. The green and tan grasses bent beneath her weight, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. She took a few steps forward. The ground cushioned her bare feet. She still wore the black pants and paisley top she had worn the previous day when she handed out her resume around town.
Continuing her trek forward she saw a vast, expansive forest that appeared to be primarily coniferous. Beyond the trees great pillar-like mountains broke the horizon into pieces. There didn’t appear to be any conformity in the giant structures other than their sheer height. As she squinted up at the tall spires, she saw what looked to be some sort of manmade structure. She couldn’t be positive due to the distance, but in a small section about a third of the way up the mountain furthest to her right appeared too uniform to have been formed naturally. This is absolutely ridiculous. I’m going crazy. I’ve finally snapped. When they get my meds right, I will find myself strapped into a strait jacket in a padded room.
Caitlin was at a loss for what she would do next. Her head was still feeling foggy, and she was extremely thirsty. Funny how such a natural sensation followed her into this dream. She decided the moose probably knew where a source of water was. He had expressly displayed for her that he had plenty to drink. She chose to follow his path to see if she could find some water. Hell, maybe he’ll lead me to a cappuccino machine. That seems about as likely as the rest of this.
She turned away from the mountains and walked back in the direction of the bed, passing it without a second glance. Caitlin continued forward for several minutes when the ground beneath her gradually sloped downwards. The wildflowers also became more abundant, their fragrance intensifying with every step she took. The blooms surrounding her seemed familiar, yet slightly different than what she was used to.
As she walked down the hill, her feet were not as comfortable as they had been. Small, sharp rocks protruded beneath the grass, catching her as she stepped down. She could really go for her house slippers right now. Unfortunately, the universe didn’t decide to rain slippers down on her at that moment, so she forced herself to keep walking.
Her footfalls startled birds, who took to the sky. They circled well above her head for a minute and then lazil
y made their way back down to the Earth. After their initial shock, they appeared to have no fear of her. One scurried up to her on four paws, lifted itself up on its hind legs, and whimpered in a high-pitched squeak. Caitlin stared at the bird-creature. It was a rat with wings. She had never seen anything like it. Its body was exactly like a rodent with downy white and gray feathers and large, powerful wings.
“Well, aren’t you interesting,” she said, crouching down to look at the creature. She held a hand out to it. The whiskers on its nose danced as it sniffed her fingers. It must not have been impressed with what it saw, because it turned back to its companions and squeaked its displeasure. The group took off together and headed toward the mountains. Caitlin shrugged and continued walking.
Her downward trek was interrupted slightly by a small hill. When she reached the top, she looked down on a valley studded with trees surrounding an enormous, clear blue lake. The back of her mouth felt like a sand pit, and the sight of the inviting water only intensified her thirst. Increasing her speed, Caitlin made her way down the hill.
The bank of the lake was littered with small, rounded pebbles. She gingerly placed a foot down onto the rocks. Nothing pierced her, so she slowly moved toward the edge of the water. Movement to the left caught her attention. Looking over, Caitlin saw the moose once again. At least, she assumed it was the same moose. He was still diligently munching on grasses and staring intently at her. She did remember that moose could be aggressive, but this one didn’t appear to be agitated; just curious. Her best course of action would be to ignore the eight-foot-tall beast. Instead, she focused on the sparkling liquid in front of her.
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