Secrets So Deep eBook

by Secrets So Deep [Bella] (mobi)

  Glynn had a bill before the House . . . funding for preschools. That seemed like a no-brainer. Why would they even have to debate it? Lots of her past bills had to do with children’s issues . . . immunizations, family leave. And there was even a bill to provide counseling to victims of domestic violence, an issue Charlotte championed herself at professional conferences.

  She paged through information about Glynn’s home district in rural Indiana. There were pictures of her meeting with farmers, cutting a ceremonial ribbon at a highway opening and posing with high school seniors at the Capitol. One of the links promised a biography, and Charlotte followed it, hoping to learn more about Glynn’s work during the Bosnian conflict. That information was there, and more. Glynn had a PhD from Indiana University in early childhood education. She had begun her career as an education specialist with the United Nations Children’s Fund, and it was that job that had sent her to Bosnia.

  Charlotte was pleased to find that Glynn was so accomplished, and that she had earned the authority with which she spoke. She found herself nodding in approval to realize at least parts of the government were in capable hands.

  Next, she explored the tab that read Voting Record, remembering Glynn’s claim that hers was not as hypocritical as some of her colleagues. Sure enough, she was one of only a few dozen in the House who had voted against the Defense of Marriage Act, but in her statement, she decried federal intervention into what she felt was a state matter. Nice cover, but it would have been even nicer to have seen her take a stand against bigotry.

  Most of her other votes were standard Republican fare . . . against abortion and environmental controls, in favor of tax cuts and war spending. The last link on the page was for press releases, and Charlotte was surprised to see the one stamped only a few hours earlier. Glynn was getting out in front of this issue with her son, releasing what seemed like the perfect amount of information to address genuine concerns without giving away their privacy. It was smart to meet this head-on. Glynn obviously had some good advisors.

  Charlotte hoped she would be ready to take some additional advice.

  Chapter 5

  Charlotte grinned with satisfaction as she walked toward Sebby’s room. Transferring him into the cardiac wing had not only gotten him off the radar for reporters or curiosity seekers, it also had spared him the usual parade of faculty and residents that moved from one room to the next for rounds.

  She found him sitting up in bed, his eyes glued to the talking heads on a morning sports show.

  “Good morning.”

  In an instant, his look of interest in the television program turned to one of extreme boredom. “Let me out of here.”

  She laughed. “I can’t. You’re my prisoner.” Her eyes went to the television, where the announcers had begun to recap the Georgetown basketball game. “Who’s that seven-footer for the Hoyas?”

  “Chad Bolling. He’s great.”

  “Good hands for a big guy.”

  “Bet he goes out next year.”

  “Goes out? You mean to the pros?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Probably.” Charlotte didn’t know enough about college basketball to carry this much further, but it was important to establish her rapport with Sebby. “How are you feeling?”

  “Bored.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they all say. Have you thought more about the things we talked about on Saturday?”

  “Not really.”

  “Some? A little?”

  “I wondered if anything I said made you think I was crazy or something.”

  She laughed again and took a chair beside him. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Sebby. But something’s eating at you and we need to find out what it is so we can deal with it.”

  His mouth turned downward. “I thought all those questions you asked me the other day were supposed to tell you what it was.”

  “In a way, they did. But they didn’t show me the whole picture. I think there’s more.”

  He stared down as he picked imaginary lint from the sheets. “I’m not hiding anything. I told you everything I could think of.”

  “I believe you. But I get the feeling that whatever is bothering you might be something you’ve forgotten about, something your brain doesn’t want to deal with. That happens with a lot of people. It’s not crazy. It’s just a defense mechanism.”

  “Maybe I’m better off not knowing what it is.”

  That was one of the biggest hurdles in pushing patients through their issues, the reluctance to go to a place that was painful. “Sometimes that’s true, Sebby. But not when you’re trying to hang yourself.”

  “That was stupid.”

  “No arguments there.” She smiled faintly, but he didn’t raise his eyes to see it.

  “I’m not going to do anything like that again.”

  “That’s our goal, but I don’t even want you to have to fight that urge again. I want to get at the cause of it so you and your mom won’t ever have to worry about it. Isn’t that what you want too?”

  He looked back up at the television and clicked the remote to turn it off. “Being here sucks.”

  “I know. I have some ideas about what to do next, and none of them involve staying here.”

  “Will I get to go home?”

  “Let me talk with your mom today. Trust us, Sebby. I think we can get this behind you, but it won’t be easy, and you’ll have to do most of the work.”

  Frustration was plain on his face, but his words were surprisingly mature. “I guess I caused all this crap. I have to be the one to fix it.”

  “We can help. And we’ll get your life back to you as soon as we can, okay?”

  “Whatever. I just don’t want to hurt Mom anymore.”

  That was as good a motivator as any, Charlotte thought. This family had seen more than its share of heartache.

  “. . . my concern is accountability, General Beckman. I can see how a laptop could go missing here and there, maybe a set of tires for a Hummer, but how exactly does the U.S. Army lose two hundred thousand guns?”

  Glynn suppressed a smile, as she often did when the Democratic chair of the Appropriations Committee put the squeeze on the military brass. Her own party’s line was to appear tough on defense, and that usually translated to open hostility with anyone who took an adversarial position against the Pentagon. But the voters back in Indiana cared about those missing guns too, so she wasn’t about to take issue with the question.

  But Representative Alvin Baxter was. “Begging the chair’s pardon, it isn’t on my legislative agenda to be conducting an inventory of—”

  “Excuse me, Congressman Baxter, you are out of order. This is my session, and that was my question, which I’m entitled to pose to anyone who comes before me asking for money to replace guns I’ve already paid for.”

  Glynn pushed her glasses up onto her forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting back a smirk. If she ever switched parties, it would be because of people like Baxter. Not that she ever seriously considered it. Her district hadn’t elected a Democrat in over thirty years.

  Alarmed at the sudden loud growl from her stomach, she covered it with her hand. That wasn’t enough to avert a chuckle from Congressman Broadwell sitting next to her, whom she kicked gently under the table.

  “Louder, Glynn,” he whispered. “I don’t think the chair heard your motion.” Or perhaps he had, since he gave up on the evasive general and pounded the gavel in adjournment. “I guess his hearing is better than we thought.”

  Glynn patted him on the shoulder and turned to greet Tina, who held out a small stack of messages. “Anything here I have to know?”

  They walked together past the press corps gathered around the chairman and into the hallway. “I’ve already handled most of them, but the top two need your personal attention.”

  The first was from her friend and education policy ally, Saul Harrington, inquiring about Sebby. She could take care of that with a quick phone call. The second was f
rom Dr. Blue regarding the appointment this afternoon. “Did she say what she wanted?”

  “She said it was nothing to worry about, just wondering if you could meet at her office instead of the hospital.”

  “What about Sebby?”

  “Just go call her, Glynn. And hurry, because you’re meeting Don Cichetti and Madge Heflin in the Bennett Dining Room to talk about farm subsidies.”

  “Can’t I even go to the bathroom?”

  “Not on your schedule,” Tina deadpanned.

  She handed the Harrington note back to her aide. “Give this to me again on my way out the door. I’ll call him from the car.”

  There wasn’t time to go back to her office in the Cannon Building, so she ducked into a vacant committee room before anyone else could claim it. On her official cell phone, which she carried at all times, she called for Charlotte Blue.

  Dr. Blue wanted to meet with her alone to discuss Sebby’s treatment plan. “That way,” she said, “we can present it to him with a united front.”

  Glynn asked, “Can you give me an idea what you have in mind?”

  The phone beeped to announce an incoming call. Since this was her member phone, the call was official business.

  “I’m sorry. I have to take this other call. I’ll be at your office at five thirty.”

  The incoming call was Alvin Baxter’s aide wanting to know where he could deliver a memo. Glynn should have seen this coming. Baxter hadn’t gotten his questions through in his allotted time this morning, so he expected her to follow up after lunch. “Excuse me. I’m late for a meeting. You’ll have to follow up with Roy Baker. I’m sure he’ll find me before . . . no, I don’t have time.” She closed her phone and cut off further objections.

  Tina looked at her with a smirk. “I know you hate to suck up, but Baxter’s going to yank you off Appropriations if you don’t play nice.”

  “Let Roy play nice for me instead. I have to pee.”

  Charlotte closed the door and tiptoed to her desk, trying her best to be quiet while Glynn finished the call on her cell phone. Had it been any other parent in her office for an appointment, she might have insisted on cutting her off.

  “I’m so sorry,” Glynn said, closing her phone. “I didn’t have time to meet with my staff before leaving, and they had a ton of questions.”

  Charlotte gestured for Glynn to take a seat on the couch and sat in an armchair directly across from her, stacking her folders neatly on the coffee table between them. “First things first. How are you feeling?”

  Glynn smiled softly, clearly pleased at being asked. “I’m pretty good, thank you. I started week two this morning at seven o’clock.”

  “That’s a grueling schedule. Five weeks?” “Supposedly, but I think it’s going to be six, since I’ll have to go back to Indiana and miss a couple of sessions.”

  Charlotte couldn’t help but study her, marveling at the obvious strength she possessed in order to deal with so much adversity. “I hope you have family and friends supporting you through this.”

  Glynn nodded and shrugged all at once, a gesture that made Charlotte realize Glynn hadn’t given much thought to her own condition.

  “Look, I know Sebby is your top concern, but this is a serious situation for you as well.”

  “Believe me, Dr. Blue, breast cancer is nothing compared to having your child try to hang himself. It really puts things in perspective.”

  Glynn seemed determined to ignore her own problems, a reasonable response, but not one that took the whole picture into account. “I understand that, but Sebby also needs you to take care of yourself. I think it would take a lot of pressure off him to see you rested and assured about your health. The best way to pull that off is to give your body and spirit the attention they need.”

  Charlotte paused to let her words sink in. Sometimes it took a lecturing tone to get people to listen. Glynn Wright didn’t strike her as someone who would seek personal advice or support, which made the message all that more important.

  “I take it you have a recommendation for Sebby?”

  “I do, but I also would like to get some information from you to help me fill in some blanks. They won’t be easy questions, Glynn. I hope you know I wouldn’t put you through this if I didn’t feel it was necessary.” She flipped through her notes to the section dealing with Sebby’s father. “I’d like to ask what you remember about the details of your husband’s death. It’s a very important episode in your son’s life, and I want to make sure I have the circumstances down.”

  Glynn took a deep breath and blew it out, her cheeks inflating as she leaned back against the couch. “It was a Saturday. I’d been in Bosnia doing some work for the UN, and had just gotten home a couple of days before.”

  “How long were you gone?”

  “Just over five months. It was only supposed to be three, but we had a lot of trouble getting things organized.”

  “What sort of arrangements had you made for Sebby while you were gone?”

  “I left in late May, and he went to stay with his grandmother in Indiana for the summer.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Bas’s mother. She flew him out to see my folks in San Diego for a couple of weeks. He does that every summer. But he stayed most of the time in Indiana. They have a farm, and a lot of things for a little boy to do.”

  “And you returned late?”

  “Yes, I was supposed to be back by the end of the summer, but we didn’t get things wrapped up, so I had to stay through the end of October. Sebby came back to DC so he could start kindergarten. We thought that would be easier for him than moving him in the middle of the school year.”

  “So Sebby grew very close to his father right before he died.”

  Glynn cocked her head slightly. “I never thought of it that way, but I guess he did. We always had a babysitter who came in when we were at work, but he would have been with just Bas in the evenings and on the weekends.”

  Charlotte scribbled the information in her notes, which she would use to prepare a background report for Mark McKee. “Can you tell me more about the day your husband died?”

  “Like I said, I’d only been home a couple of days. I was still jet-lagged, so I went to take a nap in Sebby’s room.”

  “Why there?”

  “It was quieter on that end of the house, and the curtains were dark blue, so they kept out the light. Besides, Bas had played football with some of his friends that morning, and he wanted to soak in the tub in our master suite. We had one of those big tubs with a whirlpool.” She shook her head slightly at the memory, her face softening. “As bad as his knees were, he had no business playing football, but he was such an incurable jock.”

  “Sebby told me he was electrocuted in the tub.”

  “Yeah, he . . .” She took a deep breath. “He had this little TV up on the shelf. It wasn’t that close to the tub, but they think he must have gotten up to turn the channel or something. Somehow, it fell in and . . .”

  Glynn was losing her composure. Charlotte interjected, “Where was Sebby?”

  “He was with me when I fell asleep. I was holding him next to me on his bed.”

  “And what’s the next thing you remember?”

  “He was shaking me. When I sat up, he ran out of the room. I followed him and found Bas in the tub. It was too late to do anything.”

  Charlotte had a chilling thought. “Glynn, I know this is a difficult question, but it needs to be asked. Is there any chance at all that Sebby accidentally knocked the TV into the tub?”

  Glynn shook her head adamantly. “No, it was too high. The police wondered about that too, but they decided he couldn’t have reached it without a chair.”

  “How did Sebby handle talking to the police?”

  “He was . . . I guess he was okay. They talked to him in another room by himself. I was in such a state of shock, I don’t really remember much about it.”

  Charlotte made a note to the therapist to follow up on that trai
n of thought, just in case the police investigation had contributed to Sebby’s trauma. “Okay, I suppose you’ve figured out by now that I think your son’s problems are most likely centered on the experience of his father’s death.” She picked up the folder on top and opened it. “I believe Sebby has post-traumatic stress disorder. It isn’t uncommon for something like this to manifest in someone who has gone through such extraordinary events. It’s likely that he encounters a great deal of anxiety in relation to your breast cancer issues, and his suicide attempts could be an avoidance mechanism. Simply put, he’s terrified of experiencing the trauma again.”

  “So it’s basically what I thought at the beginning. He’d rather die first than see something happen to me.”

  “Precisely. But I think something else is going on as well, because I don’t believe his choices are conscious. He’s showing signs of something we call dissociative amnesia, and I believe that also is centered around your husband’s death.”

  She looked puzzled. “Amnesia like he forgets?”

  “A suppression, perhaps. It was so traumatic for him that he doesn’t want to remember anything about it.”

  “He was only five. Isn’t it normal that he would forget things?”

  “Yes, but not typically something so shocking. Events as remarkable as that are burned into our memories, but not Sebby’s. I think those memories are there, but he can’t face them.”

  “He found his father dead in the bathtub. Why should he have to face that again?”

  This was usually the conversation Charlotte had with patients she counseled who didn’t want to relive a rape or severe beating. “Because our fears will defeat us if we give them too much power. Sebby needs to realize that, although his father died, he was kept safe. And you were kept safe. And that terrible event has no bearing on what will happen to either of you in the future.” “Can you just reinforce that with some kind of therapy?” “I wish it were that easy, Glynn. But there’s a great deal at stake here. Sebby’s fighting demons so powerful they make him want to take his own life.” She added quietly, “That’s one of the most extreme responses anyone could have, and telling him things are going to be okay isn’t going to be enough to resolve this.” “What about the last time when he drank the cough medicine and got sick? What does that have to do with this?”