Mind Games

by M. J. Labeff

  Her mother’s mental condition had been deteriorating, but Sparrow couldn’t understand why on some days her mother was lucid and others she’d retreat to far-off places in her mind. Familiar with her mother’s routine, Sparrow patiently waited, exploring the room while her mother applied additional creams to her face and pulled at the skin on her cheekbones and eyelids, stretching it taut in an attempt to recapture her youth. Cora Von Langley might have been away from the grand charity balls she’d been privileged to host, but her sense of vanity and pride in her appearance hadn’t changed. She tipped her lashes with mascara. Finally, she tilted the mirror away from her face and turned to greet Sparrow.

  “Hello, sweetheart, I’m so glad you could come. There’s something important I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Sparrow waited for her mother to continue, but soon realized she was waiting for a reply. “Mother, it’s good to see you.” She feigned kisses at her mother’s cheeks. “I’m listening.”

  “I miss the rose garden. I thought you and I could plant roses this year.” Her mother’s face looked serious. She tapped her manicured nail against the vanity top. When Sparrow didn’t respond, the purposeful gaze in her mother’s eyes turned to disappointment, and she looked away.

  “Yes, Mother. That’d be nice. Are you feeling up to it? Daddy says you haven’t been well. He was very concerned when he called me tonight.”

  Her mother raised her index finger to her lips. Her eyes scanned the bedroom. In a hushed voice, her mother said, “I’d like to get out more. Your father keeps me cooped up in this room, but I’m okay. Look.” She slid back the robe’s silk fabric and revealed needle marks on her arm.

  Sparrow smiled. “Mother, Daddy is only giving you medicine so you’ll feel better.”

  Her mother shook her head, looking agitated. “No. Something has been different. I don’t need it. Sweetheart, you have to believe me.”

  “Mother, calm down. Daddy wouldn’t give you anything to hurt you.”

  Over the years her mother had been prescribed numerous medications by her father. Her father claimed the meds calmed her mother’s hypersensitive nature. Her mother had complained to him about the pills and even had questioned him about her vitamins. He’d oblige her and change her vitamins.

  Sparrow couldn’t disagree with her father about her mother’s overwhelming need to make things perfect. She’d argue with the housekeeping staff, insisting they keep the house immaculate. As a child Sparrow was not allowed a messy room or unkempt self. At all times she had to look picture perfect. Like her mother.

  None of the kids in Crystal Cove were allowed to be kids. The expectations their parents put on them to excel was astronomical. They were all forced to overachieve, and her father counseled each and every one them. Dr. Von Langley was the expert; the parents of Crystal Cove considered it an honor for him to bend the minds of their children.

  Her mother got up from the vanity chair and walked toward Sparrow. Her thin, statuesque frame moved with the graceful elegance of a ballerina. The bell sleeves of the silk robe fluttered around her wrists. She looked like a heavenly angel.

  “Sweetheart, promise me we can plant soon. I need to get out more. Perhaps we can have a tea in the new garden. Remember the lovely afternoon tea parties I used to host?”

  “Yes, Mother, but maybe we should check with Daddy?”

  Her mother’s hands trembled. She shook her head. “You just come one morning and tell him you’re going to plant with me.”

  “But—”

  The intercom interrupted their conversation, and her father’s booming voice sounded into the room. “I’m sending Derrick and Angel up with your tea. I’ll be along shortly.”

  Within minutes the housekeeper arrived with them. Her mother withdrew. At one time, Cora had been the social queen of Crystal Cove, but her bouts with depression had become serious, rendering her functionless for long periods. Maybe Daddy was being too overprotective. Sparrow would seriously consider stopping by to plant the garden and plan an afternoon tea party with her mother.

  Sparrow greeted Derrick and Angel at the door and took the cup of tea from the tray the housekeeper held. Politely she waved the housekeeper away and ushered Derrick and Angel into the room, making the proper introductions to her mother.

  Derrick offered his hand to Cora, but she didn’t accept it. Sparrow turned to her mother, surprised by the fear in her eyes. She set down the cup of tea on her mother’s desk and went to her. Cora latched on to her arm. Her tightening grip startled Sparrow.

  “Mother, what it is?”

  Derrick dropped his outstretched hand to his side. “Mrs. Von Langley, are you all right?”

  Sparrow recognized the doctor’s concern in his voice. Angel distracted her attention from her mother. The girl walked around her mother’s room in awe.

  “What’s she doing here?” Cora asked. “You were not ever supposed to come back. Sparrow helped you leave.” Angel, enthralled by the opulence of Cora’s suite, hadn’t paid attention to a word she’d said. “Oh, dear, Sparrow, how’d she find you?”

  The hairs on the back of Sparrow’s neck stood up. Her mother had the same reaction to Angel that she’d had when Camo-boy thrust her forward and Sparrow met her pale blue eyes. Was it possible the vision of the dead girl in the ocean, the same girl she saw in her home and in her yoga studio, was a piece of her past? Was the girl trying to tell her something? But what?

  “Mother, I think you’re confusing Angel with someone else?”

  Her mother shook her head, and Sparrow grew more agitated. Did her mother know about the girl she’d helped run away? How she had crept out of the house without either of her parents knowing, or so she thought. The new fragment of information seeped into her brain. Could her mom help her remember the girl’s name?

  “No,” Cora said fiercely. “I remember.”

  “Mrs. Von Langley, what do you remember?” Derrick asked. A curious look saturated his eyes. Like Derrick, Sparrow suspected her repressed memory and her mother’s comment could be related.

  “Mother, what is it?”

  Cora shook her head. Sparrow followed her mother’s eyes to her bedroom door. Her father filled the doorframe. The severe look on his face evaporated when he realized all eyes were on him.

  “Darling, what has you so upset?” Dr. Von Langley said to his wife. He walked over to her and opened his arms, pulling her into an embrace. “Hmm. Tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. The girl, she looks so familiar. I’m confused. I’d like to rest now.”

  Sparrow didn’t like the way her mother cowered from her father, as if retracting her statement. Sparrow’s stomach curdled. Dread lurked and tapped her on the shoulder, confirming the connection she suspected existed between her and the dead girl.

  “Angel is one of Derrick’s patients. She needs our help, darling. I’ve invited her to stay until her ankle heals.”

  “What?” Sparrow said. “But Derrick, I thought she was going back to the beach. You don’t even know if her ankle is broken.”

  “It’s a bad sprain. A few days off her feet will help. I don’t see a problem with her staying here. Why are you upset?”

  Angel walked around her mother’s room, picking up decorations and lightly touching the linens covering Cora’s bed. Sparrow noticed how carefully she handled things, and her heart went out to the girl who had nothing. Why was she reacting like this?

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a long night. Daddy, thank you.” She went to her mother, surprised when Cora pulled her close and tightly hugged her.

  Her mother whispered in her ear, “Promise me we’ll plant the rose garden.”

  “Come, darling, let me help you into bed. Sparrow, take your guests downstairs. I’ll see you out in a few minutes.”

  Her father pulled her mother from her arms. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when Cora had hugged her more fiercely. Her mother’s aura of anguish seeped from her energy channels. Sparrow sensed the turmoil o
verwhelming her. She had to find a way to talk to her mother without her father present. She had to know what her mother remembered about the night she’d run away to the beach with the girl who turned up dead.

  Chapter 13

  Derrick yawned at her back. He had a long drive home, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to invite him to spend the night. She fumbled in her purse for her house keys. Maybe he’d go home on his own volition?

  “Would you like to come in?” she asked over her shoulder, twisting the key in the door.

  He suppressed another yawn. His eyes watered.

  “Do you have anything caffeinated?” He blinked away his exhaustion.

  “You need sleep. Not caffeine.”

  “Are you asking me to spend the night?” He arched a curious brow at her.

  His hand closed over hers. Heat shot through to her core. Her mind leapt to the deep kiss they’d shared on the beach. The way his lips had brushed against hers, his warm bubblegum breath, and his husky voice telling her he was going to kiss her much, much more, later.

  His body loomed at her back. He turned the doorknob and nudged her inside. He set her house keys down on the credenza with a clatter. The familiar click of the deadbolt snapped into place. He slid the chain-link lock in place.

  Apparently he wasn’t going home.

  Her place was still a mess from her earlier episode. She was tired, but she hadn’t found what she was looking for, and the anticipation of being with Derrick injected a rush of adrenaline through her bloodstream. She went over to an open box and rummaged through the contents, releasing a bit of nervous energy. Was tonight the night?

  Excitement pulsed heat through her body. She took off the sweat jacket and slung it over the back of a dining room chair. The cool air quelled her nerves.

  His footsteps came up behind her. He hooked his hands over her shoulders. His fingers gently massaged her fatigued muscles. “Thank you for helping me find Angel,” he said against the back of her head.

  “You’re welcome.”

  His hands slid down her arms, and he pulled her against him. His right arm crossed the front of her body, and his fingers lazily caressed her hip. He stroked her hair with his free hand. She melted into the warmth of his embrace. Her head fell back against his chest. His right hand slid from her hip to the side of her face, brushing her cheek, tracing her jaw line under her chin and down her neck to her collarbone.

  “You need to relax.”

  She turned in his arms and looked into his sultry brown eyes. “Maybe you can help.”

  His hands circled her waist. His fingers drummed against the small of her back, rolling up and down her spine. She loved the slow torture rippling through her body. His touch set her skin on fire.

  “Do you want something to drink?” She couldn’t believe she’d said something that stupid. The man had hunger in his eyes, and not the kind looking for food or drink.

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  No kidding.

  She drew her lips together, averting her eyes from his. He pulled his arms and hands from around her waist and paced the floor. Did he sense her apprehension? His brow furrowed, and he rubbed the spot above his nose. Did he have the onset of a sudden headache?

  “Derrick, are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

  Times like this she wished she possessed a little of the sex-kitten charm associated with her Barbie dolls. She could take a lesson or two from the coquettish blonde bimbos men found sensually intriguing. Who was she kidding? She was no good at oozing that kind of sexuality. Dana had told her so, and she’d failed miserably at her attempts to turn him on.

  He dropped his hands to his sides and replied, “How about some answers?”

  Had she misread his purpose for coming in? Unlike the molten gaze his eyes had cast in the moonlight, he looked seriously at her with concern. She missed the hungry look he’d given her moments ago. She was confused by his question and puzzled by his actions. One minute he was holding her close, and the next he was pushing her away.

  “Answers?” She wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyes, perplexed by his hot-to-cold mood swing.

  “Is your father a medical doctor?”

  “Yes. He’s a psychiatrist, and just like you he can prescribe medicine. But you know that. I don’t understand why you’re asking.” She shook her head at him.

  “He has an examination room and a padded cell in his house. And what’s with the room with the rice on the floor and the books? It looks like a classroom. Does he or did he home-school kids?”

  She didn’t like his interrogating tone. “My father is an adolescent behavioral therapist. He helps kids succeed.” She pulled back her shoulders, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She lowered her head then rolled her eyes up to him. You’re really not going to go there with me, are you? How dare you question my father’s practice?

  “How? By having them kneel on rice on a cold concrete floor?” His arms flew up in the air in disgust.

  His accusation shocked her. “What in the world are you talking about? Daddy would never do such a thing.”

  “He would and he does. I suggested that Angel needed RICE therapy. Rest, ice, compression, and elevation for her ankle. Your father agreed, and that’s when things got weird. He took us into that, that schoolroom and suggested she put on a hospital gown and kneel on the rice. He said something about the pain in Angel’s ankle going away if she focused on kneeling on the rice. Is his therapy that extreme?”

  “My father is a highly respected therapist. No one has ever questioned his therapy, until now. I think you should go.” She nodded toward the door, hoping he’d leave. She sure as hell wasn’t going to escort him out.

  “Sparrow, I’m sorry. It’s just that his method seems cruel and unreasonable. Do you know what goes on down there?”

  She couldn’t believe how concerned he sounded over her father’s therapy method, and from the determined look on his face, he wasn’t going to leave without an answer.

  “He helps kids. I’m not his assistant. Sessions are confidential. How dare you make these ridiculous assumptions?”

  “Forget it. It’s been a long night.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Did he think he could squeeze an answer from his brain?

  “Yes, it has, and for you to come in here and make accusations about my father after I’ve helped you is preposterous. Might I remind you that Angel is resting in the lap of luxury tonight?”

  He dropped his arms to his sides and rolled his head around his shoulders. “My oath as a doctor is to do no harm. I can’t wrap my mind around the idea of your father’s method of rice therapy.”

  “Well, maybe that’s because you’re a medical doctor, not a therapist.”

  She went to the door, slid back the chain link, and clicked open the deadbolt. She pulled the door open, but his quick hand slammed it shut. His hostile action stunned her, and she jumped back from the door. She looked at him, knowing anger reflected in her eyes. She blew out her breath. Dana had pushed her around to get his way. She wouldn’t let another man do that to her. Ever again.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sorry.” He took his hand off the door.

  “Me too. I think you should go.” She stepped in front of him, forcing him to move, and opened the door.

  “Wait. What about your mom’s strange reaction to Angel. I think we should talk about that.”

  She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “I don’t. Please just go.”

  He walked out the door, paused, and turned back to look at her. The pleading look in his eyes didn’t stop her from closing the door in his face. He shouldn’t have questioned her about her father’s integrity. No matter how much she wanted Dr. Derrick Sloan, she wouldn’t let him disparage her father.

  * * *

  Knowing she was on the other side of the closed door almost pushed him to do something irrational. He hadn’t expected her reaction, considering her mother’s state of shock after she’d laid
eyes on Angel, and how quickly her mood had changed when Dr. Von Langley entered the room. He’d assumed Sparrow would be as concerned about her mom’s odd behavior as he was. Derrick raised his hand to knock on the door, but stopped. He should leave. He’d upset her. He’d accused her father of unorthodox practices. She had the right to be angry.

  He turned away from her house and slowly walked to his car. How stupid can you be? Sparrow sent him signals the minute he’d touched her, and he blew it. Sure, it’d been a long night, yes, he was tired, but he could have found the energy to make love to her. His groin tightened. He recalled how she’d looked at him, her hands resting on his chest, smoothing his shirt. Damn. He could have waited to ask her about her father. Now he was driving home exhausted and wanting her.

  At this rate, he should change professions and become a monk.

  His work and concern for his patients kept him from getting closer to Sparrow, and now his worry about her father’s work had ruined a stolen, intimate moment with her. He needed to find balance in life. Yet he couldn’t stop when it came to his work. Not even for a gorgeous woman. Maybe he needed therapy.

  He pulled into his driveway, and the motion lights illuminated his surroundings. He walked to his front door and punched in the code to disarm the security system. The door closed behind him, and he reentered the number on the keypad to engage the system again.

  He took a quick look around. The place felt empty and unlived in. Probably because he spent more time running the Mobile Health Clinic RV than he did in his own house. He thought about Sparrow’s house and all of her feminine touches. The décor was a reflection of her easy, breezy California personality. His place was cold like the Colorado winters he’d endured growing up.