Sam stiffened, and Roxy, sensing her unease, moved closer to her side while a low growl rumbled deep in her chest.
Lawrence, noticing the dog’s reaction, took a step back. “I heard about that,” he said, waving a finger at the dog. His eyes shifted to Sam. “Really, Samantha. Tomorrow you’ll take it back to wherever you found it.”
“No, I won’t.”
His eyes flared at Sam’s defiance. “What?”
She stood her ground. “I said no. I love that dog and I’m not giving her up. I’m keeping her whether you like it or not.”
“Fine. We’ll discuss the dog later,” he said, striding past Anne and his daughter and into the cabin.
The two followed him, but once they were inside, Anne was struck by Lawrence Moore’s presence. It was as if he filled the small cabin, sucking the air right out of the space. She dreaded what was to come.
Pulling out a chair, he sat down and, leaning back, glared at Sam. “Do you want to explain what happened last night?”
“Why? I’m sure Jackson has already told you. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Jackson is concerned. He told me that you’re not living up to your end of our agreement. You’re not following through with your medications and no one’s guaranteeing that you are.” Leaning forward, he raked Anne up and down with his eyes. “I’m worried we made the wrong choice in your therapist.”
Anne’s stomach dropped. Great—she was getting fired for sure. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Sam’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“I think I was drugged last night, Dad,” she spit out.
He snorted derisively. “That’s not the story I heard from Jackson.”
“Jackson didn’t know all the facts—”
“Which are?” he interrupted.
Sam crossed her arms over her chest. “I had a run-in with a teenager—Teddy Brighton—and I believe he slipped—”
“Wait.” He held up a hand, stopping her. “Ted Brighton’s son?”
Sam nodded.
“Nonsense,” he answered dismissively. “I know the Brightons and they’re a fine family.”
“Have you met Teddy?” Sam asked, arching an eyebrow.
“No, but I know Ted, and his son wouldn’t do that.”
“His son is a juvenile delinquent.”
“You have proof?”
Sam squirmed. “No, but I’ve been told—”
“Gossip,” he said with a jeer. “You’re judging a young man based on rumors.”
When Sam sagged against the counter at her father’s dismissive words, Anne felt the need to step in.
“Mr. Moore,” she interjected, “it’s not rumors. Sam’s right—”
A look from Lawrence Moore stopped her in her tracks. Helplessly she turned toward Sam. Lawrence Moore had made up his mind before he’d reached the cabin and he intended to bully Sam until she agreed to whatever his demands were. Dropping her chin, Anne stared at the floor. Sam had come a long way during the past week, but she didn’t think the girl had the strength to stand up to her father. Hell—Anne wondered if she’d have the guts if she were in Sam’s position.
Satisfied that he’d quashed the both of them, he sat back in his chair. “Since you’re not making the progress we’d hoped,” he began, slipping in a dig at Anne, “Jackson has suggested that we try a residential facility that specializes in helping people with your type of problems.”
Sam gasped, bolting away from the counter. “You want to have me locked up?”
“Really, Mr. Moore, I don’t think that’s neces—”
“You weren’t hired to think,” he broke in, focusing on Anne. “You were hired to take care of my daughter, and by not monitoring her medications, you have failed.”
The blood rushed to Anne’s face. Who did this guy think he was? Question her professionalism? Her hands clenched at her sides, she took a step forward and a deep breath, ready to let him know in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of him and his heavy-handed ways. But before she could take a second step, Sam’s arm blocked her.
“You seem to have forgotten I’m an adult, Dad,” Sam said in a calm voice.
Anne’s attention flew to her charge’s face in surprise. Sam looked composed and her thin body seemed to be relaxed as she stared at her father.
“You can’t force me,” she continued. “Ever since I came out of the coma, I’ve allowed you to control my life, but the control stops now, Dad.” Her eyes shifted to Anne. “I’m staying here. Anne and I will decide the best course to take from here on out.”
Lawrence Moore jerked back in his chair. At first, shock was written on his face, but his expression shifted suddenly. He gave Sam a conciliatory smile. “Princess, I’m only thinking of what’s best for you,” he said smoothly. “We can’t have you suffering another blackout and hurting yourself.”
“I’m not going to have another blackout.” She bent and patted Roxy’s head, who’d stayed glued to her side. “I’m staying here, I’m keeping my dog, and I’m working with Anne.” Straightening, she cocked her head and met her father’s stare. “Any questions?”
His smile vanished. “Humph,” he choked out in a tight voice. “And how are you going to pay for this?”
A wry grin appeared on her face for an instant before she sobered. “You forget—you’ve paid me very well over the years. I can afford to stay here as long as I want.”
“And you forget you gave Jackson power of attorney over your affairs after you came out of the coma.”
“Yeah, I can change that,” she blurted.
Mr. Moore swiftly rose to his feet. “If you expect to resume the life you had before your accident, you’d better listen to me,” he threatened.
“Or what? You’ll fire me?” She shook her head as she turned toward the door. Crossing to it, she opened it and motioned for her father to leave. “I have a degree. I can find another job.”
“Making a pittance compared to the salary I’ve given you,” he shouted, striding over to her.
Squaring her shoulders, she stared up at him. “I can sell my artwork.”
Placing a hand on her arm, he leaned toward her. “Samantha, don’t be difficult,” he said softly. “I’m your father and I love you.”
“I think I’d be happier if you loved me a little less,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor.
His hand rubbed her arm. “I can’t let you throw everything you’ve worked for away. I want nothing more than to have you back at my side at the agency, where you belong, but right now you’re not thinking straight and you have to listen to me.”
Sam’s head lifted. “I am thinking straight. Go back to the Cities, Dad.”
His hand dropped. “Samantha,” he said sternly, “I know what’s best for you.”
Swinging the screen door open, Sam glared at him. “That’s what everybody has been saying. No more.” She tapped a finger on her chest. “From now on I’m the one calling the shots.”
He drew back as if she’d struck him. Taking his sunglasses from his pocket, he shoved them on his face. “Samantha, you are clearly not in a state to have a rational, adult conversation. This discussion isn’t over,” he said as he stomped out the door.
Anne was speechless. She shook her head in amazement. She never thought Sam would take on Lawrence Moore like that. “Wow,” she began before noticing that Sam’s legs had started to tremble. Rushing over, she grabbed the girl’s arm and guided her to the nearest chair. Sinking down, Sam looked up at her, her eyes wide.
“Oh my God,” she said breathlessly as she covered her face with her hands, “I just kicked my father out of my house.”
“Yeah,” Anne replied, still stunned. “And how does it feel?”
Sam’s hands fell away and her lips curled in a smile. “Good.” Her smile dropped. “But I think I just lost my job.”
“Do you care?”
“At the moment, no.” Rising, Sam walked down the hallway and opened the closet door. Taking out her painti
ngs, she propped them against the wall and studied them for a moment without speaking. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder at Anne. “Is there an art store in Pardo?”
The examination was over and together they sat waiting for the doctor’s verdict. Sam had cooperated, patiently answering his questions. She’d been uncomfortable talking about her attack, but Dr. Douglas had gently prodded her into giving a description of that horrific day. It was the first time Anne had heard the story in such detail and from Sam’s perspective. No wonder the poor girl had problems, she thought, feeling a stab of guilt over the times she’d minimized Sam’s fears. To have your life stripped away like that. To have any sense of safety ripped away. Anne felt she now had a better understanding of why Sam had been so paranoid, so reluctant to leave the cabin, and vowed to be more patient with her in the future.
“Do you think I was drugged?” Sam asked, her voice rising with hope.
“Hmm,” Dr. Douglas said, scanning his notes. “How long have you been off the sertraline?”
“The one to help with depression and anxiety?”
“Yes.”
Sam gave Anne a sheepish look. “I can’t remember the exact date, but it’s been at least a week.”
“And you’d been on it for several weeks, prior to staying at the lake?”
“Yes.”
Tapping his pen on the clipboard, he looked over at Sam, sitting on the examination table. “Your fiancé is correct—one really should taper off this kind of medication. What about the diazepam? How—”
Sam broke in. “The sleeping medication?”
Dr. Douglas nodded.
Her lip curled. “I didn’t like the way that made me feel, so I only took it a few times.”
“And you were also taking the sertraline?”
“Yes.”
“Other than the blackout, how have you felt?”
“Good,” Sam replied quickly. “I’ve felt stronger and had more energy.”
“No dark thoughts?”
“You mean of suicide?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Hallucinations?”
Sam paused. Was she remembering the late-night visitor on the dock? Anne wondered. She was so sketchy about when she’d gone off both of her medications that Anne couldn’t tell if the visit coincided with her failure to take them. She thought about the cigarette butts Fritz had found by the dock, but they could’ve been left there by anyone. With a mental shrug, Anne let it go. She had faith in Dr. Douglas. He’d come up with the right diagnosis.
He stood and placed the chart on the counter. “If you’re feeling better, I don’t recommend resuming the medications. If you start feeling anxious again, or have trouble sleeping, we’ll take another look.” Crossing to the door, he turned. “Anne, why don’t you step out in the hall with me while Samantha gets dressed? Samantha, if you have any more questions, give me a call.”
Stepping out into the hall, Anne shut the door behind her and looked at Dr. Douglas expectantly. “You think she was drugged, don’t you?”
“It’s possible,” he answered, rubbing his chin, “but it’s too late now to test for flunitrazepam. The medication Dr. Van Horn prescribed?” He hesitated. “Since I haven’t seen Sam’s entire case history, I don’t like to question another doctor’s choice of treatment.” He shook his head. “But I usually don’t prescribe a combination of those two particular medications.”
“Are they out of her system now?”
“Again, hard to say. Every patient is different. Keep an eye on her and call me if she has any problems.”
Anne watched Dr. Douglas enter the next examination room. Leaning against the wall, she took a deep breath. Who would’ve thought this job would come with so much drama? She’d never found herself being so drawn into a patient’s life. In the past, she’d done her job then gone home. Not this time. With every passing day, she was becoming more embroiled in Sam’s struggles, and not only the one Sam was fighting to regain her physical strength. Thanks to the last two days, she was now aligned with Sam in her battle to overcome her family’s control. Pushing off from the wall, she moved to the door, but paused before opening it to say a little prayer that this was a fight she and Sam would win.
They were almost to the car when a voice called out Anne’s name. Turning, she saw Edward Dunlap hurrying toward them. She stopped and waited for him.
“Edward,” she said, surprised, “are you here to see Dr. Osgood?”
As he rubbed his arm, his gaze slid toward Sam then quickly away. “Just did.”
“And?” Anne asked with a hopeful note in her voice.
“He wasn’t encouraging,” he answered with a shake of his head, and Anne felt her hope plummet.
“I’m sorry,” she replied, placing a hand on his arm. “Did he have any recommendations?”
“Not really. He suggested that I try a pain management program.” He shuffled his feet. “But I’d have to drive down to the Cities.”
“Okay, then drive down to the Cities.”
“I can’t. Too much to do here.”
Exasperated, Anne dropped her hand. “Edward, I’ve told you before—you need to take care of yourself. Your mother can get along without you for a few hours.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “I’m sure you’re right. Most of the time I think I’m more of a hindrance than a help, but it’s no use, Anne.”
“That’s not true!” she exclaimed.
He ignored her statement and turned toward Sam. His shuffling stopped as he studied her face. “You remind me of someone.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Why did you sing that song at the party?”
Sam shifted uncomfortably and her eyes sought Anne’s.
How could Sam answer Edward’s question when she didn’t remember her performance? Anne tried to think of a way to cover for her, but came up empty.
“Ah, I don’t know,” Sam said awkwardly.
Edward looked past Sam while his hand stroked the arm hanging uselessly at his side. His face took on a faraway expression. “It was her favorite song.”
Anne’s eyes narrowed. Whose favorite song?
“Edward,” she said softly, trying to draw him back to the present. “Who are you talking about?”
His expression didn’t change. “Blanche.” He bit out the name.
“Blanche Jones?”
“She loved ‘Make Me Your Baby.’ ” His attention returned to Sam, and he took a step toward her. “She sang it at parties, too.”
His words had a strange effect on Sam. Her face paled and she backed away.
Anne’s eyes darted from Sam to Edward as she tried to figure out what was going on. It was as if they were both thinking about something of which she knew nothing, but how could that be? They’d never laid eyes on each other until Fritz’s party.
Edward continued to stare at Sam. “You’re back to cause trouble, aren’t you?” Suddenly his shoulders slumped and he pivoted on his heel. With his head down, he shambled across the parking lot.
Anne made a move to go after him, to ask why he seemed so beaten. Dr. Osgood hadn’t given him the answer she’d hoped for, but she knew the key to helping him was out there. She simply had to find it. She stopped, glancing over her shoulder at Sam then back at Edward, who was now on the far side of the lot. Her attention returned to Sam. She looked shaken, and it was pointless to chase after Edward. He had his pride and he wouldn’t appreciate her pushing him toward another type of treatment. She’d go to Dunlap’s tomorrow, and if she could get him away from Esther, she’d convince him not to give up. And even though the subject of Blanche was taboo, she’d like to understand why he had suddenly mentioned her.
Anne turned back to Sam. “What was that about?”
“I—I—don’t know,” Sam answered, hurrying to the car. She yanked the door open and slid inside. Anne followed and, once in the driver’s seat, shifted toward Sam.
Eyes closed, Sam sat with her head resting against the back of th
e seat.
“Did you recognize the song I sang?” she asked without opening her eyes.
“Not really—it was an old one, I think.”
Sam lifted her head and sat forward, looking out the windshield. “One thing I do remember from that night is the dream I had.” She hesitated and gave a small shudder. “I was at a party—at Fritz’s—but things were different.”
“In what way?”
Sam shook her head. “Everyone was dressed differently—like they were all back in the eighties or something. And Fritz was there, but he looked a lot younger.” Rubbing her forehead, she shut her eyes again as if she were trying to remember. “A woman was flirting with some man I didn’t recognize and then she began to sing.”
Anne wondered if she had told Sam that this was exactly how she had acted at Fritz’s. No, she’d wait and hear the rest of her story.
Sam’s eyes popped open and she leaned back. “The dream shifted and I was in the woods, by the lake. A woman was crying on a dock, but in the dark I couldn’t see who it was.” She let out a long breath. “That’s it.” She fell silent.
Tapping on the steering wheel, Anne tried to think of an explanation. Unable to think of one, she turned on the ignition and backed out of the parking space.
“Don’t you think it’s odd?” Sam asked.
Anne shrugged, pulling out onto the street. “Most dreams are odd. And after everything that you’ve been through . . .” She let her voice trail away.
“But it’s as if I dreamed of something that happened in the past. And haven’t you noticed how Blanche Jones keeps popping up? Fritz mentioned her—Edward mentioned her.”
“Look, the cabin’s been empty for a couple of seasons,” Anne said with a glance Sam’s way. “Now you’re living there and it’s stirred up some memories.”
“But even Jackson mentioned her.”
Anne cocked her head. “Dr. Van Horn knew Blanche?”
“I don’t think he really knew her. From what he said, the summer he stayed here she simply fueled a few of his teenage fantasies.”
“Is that why he rented her old cabin?”
“I don’t think so,” Sam replied.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Anne gave Sam a confident look. “Forget about the dream. If what you suspect is true and you were drugged—chalk it up to that. Concentrate on getting stronger.”
Love Lies Bleeding Page 18