by T. L. Haddix
“Not at all.” This time when Gordon placed his hand on Chase’s shoulder, he tightened his grip. Chase winced but didn’t move.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Yes, you are. You owe Beth that much respect. Come on, Chase. Use your stubborn head.” Gordon kept his voice low and calm. “Let her talk to the man, okay?”
With one last hate-filled look toward Ethan, he turned and stalked out of the room. Gordon followed, and turned as he reached the door.
“Twenty minutes?” Beth nodded, and he pulled the door closed behind him.
Ethan let out the breath he had been holding and, unable to stop himself, he rested his for cheek against the back of Beth’s head.
“Is it true?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“But we - I used... It’s only been two weeks.” He stopped, shaking his head. Taking his hand, she pulled him to the edge of the bed and made him sit down. He hunched over, his head in his hands. Beth was quiet as he came to terms with the news. She sat beside him and placed her hand on his knee. After several minutes he turned his head and met her gaze, not bothering to hide his tears. “I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you. Not now. It just was one more thing on top of so much, and entirely unnecessary.”
“Did you know? That you were pregnant?”
Beth shook her head. “I didn’t have any idea. It hadn’t been that long since we’d… It’s routine to ask if a patient might be pregnant as a matter of course, and I had to tell them there was a chance. They did a blood test.” She sighed and squeezed his hand, which he had clamped over top of hers on his leg. “It’s probably for the best, Ethan. Neither of us is equipped to be parents right now.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t really help, does it? A baby… God, it’s too much. You must hate the sight of me.” He stood and lifted his hand to touch her face, but let it fall without making contact. “I’d better head out before they come back.”
Beth got to her feet as he moved toward the door. He stopped, not looking at her as he spoke. “This Gordon guy - are you involved with him?”
She was stunned. “How is that any business of yours?”
“It isn’t,” he replied in a defeated tone.
At the admission, she relented a little. “No, I’m not involved with him. He’s just a friend.”
“Thanks for telling me that.” He started toward the door again, but this time Beth was the one who spoke.
“Ethan?” He turned to look back at her. “Good luck with what you were telling me - the soul searching.”
He nodded. “Thanks. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.” After giving her one last, sad smile, Ethan turned and walked out the door, out of her life.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Over the next few weeks, Beth struggled harder physically and mentally than she ever had before. Shortly after she’d been released from the hospital, Chase had cornered her and made her accept a hard reality – that she needed counseling. She’d been in her parents’ sunroom, playing checkers with her grandfather, when Chase had come in. Chase had taken a seat next to Beth on the couch, while their father stood next to her grandfather’s chair, watching the game.
“Heard the front door slam,” Sampson said. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Jackie just needed some air. When you’re finished here, can I get your opinion on something?”
Sampson looked up and nodded. “We’ve only got a few moves left here, and we’ll be done. This young lady has me backed into a corner again.” He smiled at Beth, who gave him a half-hearted smile in return.
With one final move on the board, Sampson conceded defeat. He stood and turned to Richard. “Lead the way. What is it you need to discuss?” As the two men left the sunroom, Beth sensed her opportunity for escape and started to stand up. Chase placed a hand on her arm, stopping her.
“I’d like to talk to you.”
She stiffened when she saw the determined look on his face. “Can’t it wait? I’m very tired.” She gave him a look that was full of false regret and tried to step back, but he tightened his grip on her arm.
“Sorry, but no, this won’t wait. Sit back down. Please.” Seeing that she was going to refuse, and he continued in a very controlled voice. “If you don’t sit down, I will tie you to that chair Pop just left. One way or another, you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”
Her jaw dropped and an angry flush crawled up her cheeks. “Who the hell died and left you in charge?”
He nodded toward the chair again. With a furious glare, she sat down on the couch opposite where Chase was seated, refusing to even look at the chair he’d indicated. Arms folded, she stared at the fireplace.
Moving to where she couldn’t ignore him, he didn’t speak, deliberately provoking her further.
“What do you want?” she finally ground out in his general direction.
“I want you to admit that you need help with dealing with this, and I want you to get it,” he told her bluntly.
Her gaze shot to his face, and she started to speak, but he stopped her, continuing. “I want you to start eating, whether the food is appealing or not, and I want my sister back. Beth, do you remember what I went through when I lost Kiely? You were a teenager, but you had a pretty good head on your shoulders. Do you remember how I managed to get through that?”
She shook her head and refused to meet his eyes.
“I almost didn’t. I lost an entire semester, almost dropped out and came home. You didn’t know that, did you?”
“No,” she whispered, turning to him with a shocked expression. “Oh, Chase.”
He waved away her sympathy. “Do you know what got me through it, got me back on my feet?”
She shook her head again, but this time didn’t take her eyes off his face.
“One of my professors saw what was happening, and she called Dad. He came down and had a talk with me, a talk a lot like the one we’re having right now. Told me to quit feeling sorry for myself and deal with things.”
She frowned. “You’d lost your girlfriend. That isn’t feeling sorry for yourself, that’s grief.”
“No, it wasn’t. Not by then. Dad was right. I was feeling sorry for myself, and I’d given up. He saw that I wasn’t moving on, that I was stuck, and he gave me an ultimatum - get counseling or else. I decided to get counseling, mainly just to shut him up, and I learned that there’s a difference between honest grieving and giving up. One’s normal, healthy even. The other isn’t.” He waited as she absorbed his words.
“So you’re trying to tell me that I’ve been feeling sorry for myself?” She dropped her gaze to her lap.
“Not at all. I’m telling you that you need help, sis. You can’t see it from where you’re at right now, but the rest of us can. You’re sinking into a dangerous depression. I’m asking you to trust us.”
She raised her chin. “So what does ‘everyone’ think I should do?”
“We’d like you to go talk to a counselor, a therapist here in Leroy. Sharon Jenkins. Her offices are up by the hospital in one of those renovated houses.”
“When?”
“Tuesday morning.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “I’ve made an appointment for you at ten o’clock.”
Beth snorted and rolled her eyes. She read the information on the card. “You were awfully sure of yourself.” She didn’t bother hiding the resentment in her tone.
“No, not really. I figured it would go one of two ways. Either you would agree to go, or you’d tell me to go to hell.”
“I could still tell you to go to hell. I haven’t agreed to anything. What would you do then? Hog tie me and take me in?” She met Chase’s gaze defiantly, almost hoping he would try just so she could fight him.
He shrugged. “If you say no, then I’ll get the rest of the family to come in here and tell them that you refuse to get help, and I’ll let you watch Mom’s face when she hears that. How do you think this is affecting her? Aft
er what she went through with Grandma growing up, watching you fade away has to be her worst nightmare.” He saw that he had hit a nerve and waited.
After a minute she relented, throwing her hands up. “Fine, I’ll go talk to the counselor if it’ll get you off my back. Am I free to go now?” Chase nodded, and she shot out of the sunroom as though pursued by the hounds of hell. She hadn’t spoken to him for a week after that.
Between the strain of physical therapy and the emotional drain of her counseling sessions with Sharon, she was nearly ready to cry “uncle.” She was learning to deal with the fact that she had been kidnapped from her own home and shot, had lost a child and been betrayed by its father, and was trying to accept the changes all those events had wrought, but it was difficult. The homework Sharon had given her after their first session played through her mind like a mantra.
“Right now you’re still reeling, still reacting to what has happened to you. That’s perfectly normal, Beth. If you’ll pardon the phrase, you have shots coming at you from all directions - emotionally, physically, perhaps even spiritually. Until you can get into a place mentally where you can defend yourself from those shots, you aren’t going to be able to make sense of everything that’s happened. Why don’t we try to take it one thing at a time, starting with the smaller traumas, and go from there? If you can deal with the little things, you can deal with the big things.”
The words had made sense. Going back inside her apartment had been a big challenge. It had brought back memories she would rather have forgotten. She had been in the middle of a session with Sharon when the topic came up, and to her surprise, Sharon had suggested they drive over to the apartment at that moment.
“What about your other appointments?”
“I’m clear the rest of the afternoon. If you really aren’t comfortable going, we won’t, but I think you need to. I’m assuming you aren’t going to stay with your parents indefinitely, since you’ve been living independently for several years now.”
Beth had fallen silent, and her heart raced at the thought. It had to be done, sooner or later. “No time like the present, I guess,” she joked grimly.
Sharon had driven them so she would have access to a vehicle if Beth froze and couldn’t function, and as they approached the building, she could feel her stomach muscles clench. It had been just over a month since she had been shot, and going back inside her apartment was something she had been putting off for a couple of weeks now. She used her key to let them in the front door of the building, and once inside, she walked into the foyer and paused, taking in the look and smell of the building she had lived in happily for over three years, feeling as though she had never seen it before. Shaking the odd mood off, she led Sharon to the elevators and hit the button. They waited silently for the car to arrive. As they got on, she pushed the button for her floor with a shaking hand.
“Are you okay?”
Beth nodded, unable to speak around the tightness in her throat. As they reached her floor, she swallowed and took a deep breath before she stepped out into the hall. Sharon followed her to her front door, where Beth paused and ran her hand over the glossy black paint.
“Somehow I expected it would look different.” She unlocked the door and flipped the light switch on, disarming the alarm. Opening the door wide, she gestured with her chin. “Come on in.”
Sharon stepped inside, and Beth closed the door behind her, locking it. The doctor stood back and waited while she walked down the hall, stopping at the office door to peer inside before moving on to the open living room. Silently, she moved from room to room, sometimes touching an object or running her hand over a surface, glancing around, but not saying a word.
“What’s wrong?” Sharon asked.
Beth shook her head, walked over to the kitchen island and picked up a folded dish towel. “I don’t know. I feel like ... I guess it’s like I’m looking in from the outside. I know this is my apartment, but I don’t feel me here anymore. Does that make sense?”
“It does. It’s a form of disassociation, and it isn’t uncommon at all for someone who has gone through what you have. The way our minds defend us sometimes is to remove ‘us’ from situations we aren’t ready to handle emotionally.”
Beth nodded and walked to the door of the dining room, gazing in, but seeing nothing. “Will it go away? Will I get myself back someday? I’m looking around this apartment where I’ve spent so much time. It’s my home, for crying out loud, and I don’t feel connected to any of it.” She walked into the living room and picked up a delicate gilded vase. “This was my grandmother’s. Her grandmother gave it to her. When Grandma died, my grandfather gave it to me. I know that intellectually, but I don’t care.” She carefully sat the vase back on its shelf. “It’s like it belongs to someone else. Am I always going to feel that way?”
Sharon was silent for a moment before answering. “I don’t know, Beth. I think a large part of that is going to be up to you. Some aspects of your life from before the attack may just be too traumatic, too scarring for you to embrace again. Other aspects will return in time. I’m sorry I can’t give you a more definitive answer,” she said.
Beth’s expression conveyed more sadness than she realized. “I understand why you can’t. I’m definitely not comfortable enough to come back here and stay, not yet. Guess I’m stuck rooming at the farm for a little while longer.” She headed toward the door, ready to go. As they stepped out into the hall and Beth turned to lock the apartment up, another thought occurred to her, and she asked Sharon about it as they walked back to the elevator.
“I’m supposed to go back to work next Monday. What are the chances I’ll feel, or not feel, the same way about work?”
“Unfortunately, there really isn’t any way to know that ahead of time. How do you feel about going back to work right now?”
As they got into the car, Beth answered. “I have mixed feelings, I suppose. I’m excited because I just want my life to get back to normal, and I want to have something to focus on instead of just wandering around between PT appointments and sessions with you. No offense. At the same time, though, I dread going back and seeing everyone, having to face them. I worry that they’ll treat me differently.”
“Well, there’s a good chance they will treat you differently, at least at first,” Sharon told her as she guided the car back to her office. “They’re going to be just as worried as you are, not knowing what to say, what to do. They won’t want to hurt you. Try to keep that in mind, and things might go a little easier come Monday.” She parked in the driveway beside the house, and they sat there for a minute, neither woman moving to open her car door.
“How do I get myself back, Sharon?”
The therapist shook her head. “You will never be the same person that you were before, Beth. Don’t even try to reach that goal. Good, bad, or ugly, you will never look at the world the same way again. Keep yourself focused on dealing with the issues that haunt you, and the rest will come with time. You’ll look in the mirror one day and recognize the person looking back at you. Beth Hudson is still in there,” she said as she pointed to Beth’s head. “You just have to give her a chance to heal enough to come back out. Make sense?”
“Makes sense. Do I need to come in, or does Teresa already have me booked in for Thursday?” Beth headed toward the Beast, and Sharon walked with her to the end of the driveway.
“You can come in, or I’ll have her give you a call to confirm, however you’d like to handle it.”
“Just have her call me then, if you don’t mind. I need to go, just drive around for a while.” Saying goodbye, she pulled out onto the street and tried to decide which direction she wanted to go. Driving had always been a refuge for Beth, but no matter how much she drove lately, she couldn’t seem to quell the restlessness that plagued her. When she reached the on-ramp to the interstate, she decided to head north and see where she ended up. It was a long shot, but maybe today she would be able to outrun her demons.
Chapter
Forty
Sampson was waiting for Beth at her desk the following Monday morning. “Are you ready for this, young lady?”
Her smile trembled, but was genuine. “I think so. We’d better head upstairs or we’ll be late.”
As they ascended the stairs, her nerves fluttered in her stomach like a thousand angry butterflies. Her grandfather reached out and opened the door to the board room, and she walked in ahead of him. She stopped in her tracks when she was met by a loud round of applause, cheers, and whistles.
The majority of the staff of the newspaper was present, and they all had huge smiles on their faces. As tears blurred her eyes, Vanessa hurried up to her and enveloped her in a tight hug, followed by several more co-workers. After a few minutes, Marshall loudly cleared his throat as he walked through the crowd to where Beth stood. He pulled her in for a bear hug and gave her a quick buss on top of her head, then let her go and turned to address the staff.
“Okay, let’s break it up, people. We’ve got work to do, show’s over.”
Before long, the Monday morning staff meeting was underway. Beth looked around at the familiar faces, and felt most of her nerves fade away. She was glad to be home.
~ * * * ~
After the meeting, Marshall called Beth into his office. She shut the door and took a seat as she smiled fondly at the man sitting behind the desk. He smiled back at her for a moment, then turned to business.
“I’m starting you out light, Hudson. Are you going to be okay with that?”
“I’m fine with that. I’m not quite ready to get out there and cover the kinds of stories I usually handle.” When he looked at her with concern, she tried to explain. “I’m ready to come back to work. I would just prefer to ease back into it, not jump in with both feet. My life has been plenty exciting the last few weeks, and I’m still feeling my way.”
He grunted, satisfied with her explanation. “Just let me know when you are. Until then, you had better take it easy. I don’t want to be responsible for putting you back in the hospital.” He picked up his glasses, dismissing her. Beth gave him a mock salute and stood.