Casey could tell from the tone of his voice that the tension between Conor and his family bothered him. She wished there was something she could do, but she was not the best person to try and mend a broken family. She had not even spoken to her own father since Jace died, and even before that, she really only reached out to him on holidays. He hadn’t even seen her son more than once before the accident. His lack of enthusiasm about being a grandfather had stung like a nettle.
“Does your brother live near your father? Are they close?” Though Conor was apparently not enjoying reliving the past, Casey felt a strong urge to learn about where he came from. Maybe his family had something to do with him being the nice, respectful gentleman that he was.
“Patrick lives in Dublin with his wife and two children. He’s a fisherman, and he and my da are one in the same. I guess ya could say that I was the black sheep of the family. I didn’t want to live a borin’ life on a farm or alone at sea. I wanted to travel. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be wealthy and meet someone I could spend the rest of me life with. I didn’t think that was goin’ to happen in Ireland, so I came here.” He had looked deep into her eyes as he said, “meet someone I could spend the rest of my life with,” and Casey’s heart had stopped. Was he considering that she could be this person? God, I hope so.
“What about ya, love? I know that you lived with your da. Is he still alive, then? Do ya have any siblings?”
Casey panicked, knowing that it was her turn to disclose. She was always so afraid that she would slip up and mention Jace, but she still could not understand why she was so afraid.
“I am an only child, and I don’t talk to my dad much either. We have never been very close. He has a problem showing his emotions, which is the complete opposite of me. My mother died during childbirth, so I never got the chance to meet her, but I swear sometimes that I remember seeing her face. Do you think that is crazy?”
“Not at all,” Conor replied sweetly.
Casey smiled at his unfaltering kindness. “Other than that, there is not much to tell.”
To deter from any more questions about her life and her past, Casey said, “Hey, let’s actually watch that movie now. What are you in the mood for?”
“Whatever ya think, love,” Conor said as they settled in for a relaxing rest of the evening.
Chapter 24
Early Friday morning, Casey received a call from Dr. Roma to inform her that she was back in town. Though she tried to set up an appointment for Casey on Monday, she must have heard the anticipation in her voice.
“I don’t think that I can wait until Monday. It is an emergency,” Casey had told her. In Dr. Roma’s profession, when she heard the word “emergency,” that could often be misconstrued as a cry for help from a suicidal patient. Saying no was not an option.
At four o’clock, Casey arrived at the office, wound up and anxious to dredge up the answers she needed. When Dr. Roma called her into the office, she hadn’t even closed the door before Casey started talking.
“Okay, so I had this nightmare about Jace the other night, but it was more like a memory. It was on the day of the accident, and he was crying and drinking and then got in the car with the baby and drove. It was weird that all of the details of the accident and the day match, but from what I remember, Jace wasn’t drinking and driving.” She paced the room as she went on, barely taking a breath. “Then I tried to remember more about the day of the accident, and I can’t. There are gaping black holes in my memory. I can’t decide if I am just making this shit up as a way to deal with the fact that I am moving on, or if it did really happen, and if so, then why was Jace crying?”
“Whoa, Casey, slow down. Why don’t you have a seat and we will try to work this out together, one thing at a time.” Dr. Roma’s voice was calm and collected. “Now tell me specific details about the dream…Everything that you can remember.”
Casey sat as requested, but her leg still shook nervously. She divulged the details of the dream as best she could remember. Dr. Roma took notes on her legal pad as Casey spoke. She always wondered what it was that psychiatrists wrote on those pads. Were they actually just doodling as their patients rambled on? Casey imagined endless yellow pads filled with pictures of the mentally insane.
“Okay, what all can you remember about the day of the accident? Do not leave out any details, no matter how insignificant,” the doctor said. Casey strained to grasp the entirety of the memory. She did not like to think about it, but this time she had no other option. She closed her eyes, and let herself drift back.
“It was hot outside—sometime in early July. I remember because we had just celebrated 4th of July, and there were still flags in people’s yards. I got into my car. Jace and the baby were in the SUV, already driving down the street. I saw the car flip. I saw the flames roaring in the rear view mirror. I screamed and did a U-turn—car horns honking loudly as I did. I stood by the flames, helpless.” That was all she could manage through the tears now pouring relentlessly from her eyes. Her stomach turned, and she thought for a moment she might throw up.
“I know this is hard for you, Casey, so if any moment it is too difficult, let me know and we will stop.” Her words were so gentle and caring—Casey had never been so happy that she switched from stonehearted Dr. Satter.
“I’m fine,” she said, brushing away some stray tears. “I have to know what happened that day.”
Dr. Roma handed her a Kleenex and asked, “What do you remember about the events leading up to the wreck? Were you at home, a bar, a grocery store?” Casey pushed her mind to remember anything, but it was as if there was a black veil draped over the memory. She couldn’t make out anything but shapes…there were no sounds, no content.
“I have no idea,” she said hopelessly.
Dr. Roma made another note on her pad. “Casey, would you be adverse to trying hypnotherapy? It seems to me that you have put a mental block on the events leading up to the accident, and hypnotherapy has proven to be very useful in recovering information that the mind resists.”
Casey had always felt like hypnotherapy was just an act for sideshow magicians and TV shows aching for ratings. She didn’t really believe in it, but at this point, she would try just about anything. “How does it work?”
“Well, it is rather simple. It is kind of like putting you to sleep while you are awake. I will put you in a state of hypnosis, and when you have reached a deeper level of your subconscious, hopefully you can grasp the memories that you have suppressed.”
Casey thought that it all sounded pretty harmless, and agreed. “Can we do it now?” she said, anxious to get on with it.
“I am going to schedule you an appointment for Monday. Take the weekend, get some rest, and try not to stress yourself. I have found that patients who are less agitated respond better to the hypnosis. If your mind is more at ease, you will have an easier experience getting to the deeper levels of your subconscious. But Casey, I have to warn you that it does not always work. Sometimes things are buried so deep that they just have to surface on their own. There is also the possibility that we will have to put you in more than one state of hypnosis.”
“Honestly, Doc, I will try anything. I want to get better. I want to move on. Conor and I are getting serious, and I don’t want this weight on my shoulders anymore.” She felt relieved to say it out loud. She desperately wanted to finally accept the past and move on.
“That is good, Casey. You are beginning to move forward already. You are making progress. Now, let’s switch gears for a bit. Tell me more about your lover.”
Casey smiled, thinking, Where do I begin?
When she left the office, Casey decided to walk home to clear her mind. Get my mind off of things. Relax. Try not to stress. The words replayed in her mind. Casey was trying to think of things that she could do to achieve a stress-free weekend. She could hang out with Sammie, but she would probably already have plans with Giovanni. Sammie had been ecstatic when Casey relayed Conor’s thoughts
on her relationship—she had been glowing for days.
When she was almost home, she passed a small booth selling tickets to a selection of different tours in and around Boston. She stopped and browsed the brochures of each one, trying to find something that might peak her interest. She picked up one about Whale Watching, but quickly put it back down. She had never been fond of large sea life, and spending a day alone at sea with immense creatures of the deep frightened her to no end. She then read one about Graveyard Ghost Tours around the city. She was a fan of all things paranormal, but that did not sound like a stress-free relaxing tour. Finally, she picked up a brochure about Salem.
On the front of the pamphlet, there was a stunning picture of the sunset, the deep hues drawing her in. She opened the two small folds to read about the village and its sinister past. The history of the witch trials had always intrigued her, but she had yet to visit Salem. The ferry ride was less than an hour, and she would not have to tread too far into the deep sea.
“What time is the last ferry to Salem?” she asked the cashier.
“Last one leaves at 8 p.m.,” the friendly, round woman said from inside the cramped booth. She looked at her watch, noting that it was 5:30 now, which gave her some time.
Casey took out her phone and dialed Conor. To her dismay, he did not answer. Hoping he would call her back and be free for the weekend, she purchased two tickets. Even if he was not able to join her, maybe she could convince Sammie to come, though she thought the idea doubtful. She then hurried home to pack a quick bag, and call to see if there was a room available for the weekend.
At about 7:15, Casey had packed a light bag and secured a room at what appeared to be a quaint little inn. She still had not heard from Conor, and Sammie had passed on a ferry ride due to morning sickness she had been experiencing as of late. Casey, feeling only a little less excited about her trip, sat the other ticket on the kitchen table. She left the offer open for Sammie to come if she felt better, and also left Conor a voicemail informing him that he had a ticket at her place if he wanted it.
She walked leisurely to the boat, aware that she was early as usual. When she was finally able to board, she was relieved to find the air inside cozy. She found herself a seat near a window, and gazed out at the sinking sun, now barely visible over the horizon. As the engine revved and the ferry pushed its way out into the harbor, Casey exhaled. As the ferry began to pick up speed, gaining distance between it and the city, Casey was at ease. She rested her forehead against the chilly window and closed her eyes. She barely noticed the light murmur of the people around her. Subsequently, she did not notice the sound of one of the cabin doors opening behind her. Only the hair on the back of her neck reacted to the chilly October air. Suddenly, she felt the presence of someone standing beside her and opened her eyes.
“Sorry I’m late, love,” Conor said as she nearly jumped into his arms.
“What took you so long?” Casey asked, thankful to be nuzzling his warm neck.
“I was in a meetin’. When I got your voicemail, I ran straight home to get ready. Damned ferry almost left without me.” Though she would have been fine going on this trip alone, she was excited now that Conor was with her, grasping her tight in his arms. “Would ya like a drink, love?”
She nodded, and he turned to get them a cocktail. She stared once more out the window as the lights from the city disappeared in the distance.
When they neared Salem, Conor removed a thick fleece blanket from his bag, and motioned for Casey to follow him. They stepped from the warmth of the cabin to the chilly deck of the ferry. They stood at the front of the boat, Conor wrapping his strong fleece-covered arms around Casey from behind. Though a cool mist from the water dusted her face, she was snug in his arms. Ahead, she could barely make out the silhouette of land. It loomed in the distance, spotted with faint lights. An eerie feeling washed over Casey, and she wondered if it came from ghosts from the past lurking over the town. She connected with the place, her own ghosts lurking as well.
When they stepped off the ferry ten minutes later, Casey noticed a change in the air. The eerie feeling she had felt as they approached the island was stronger now. A chill crept up her spine, and she could not help but to be thankful not to be alone. Conor held the bags in one hand, grabbing Casey’s hand in the other.
“Are ya all right, love? Ya look like ya have seen a ghost.” Casey did not answer, a frozen statue. The place had seen so much death, just as Casey had. She was once again taken back to the day of the wreck:
Jace was crying. She heard herself yelling at him, but she did not know why. He took a long draw from his beer. She knocked it from his hand. The yellow liquid spilled all over the floor. He yelled at her, then darkness. She was then walking out the door, her eyes filled with tears, a searing pain in her cheek.
“Casey?” Conor said as she came back to reality. “Should we go?”
“I’m sorry. Yes, let’s find the Inn. I was just…” She stopped, wondering what she could use for an excuse. “I was just thinking how quiet it is here.” It was not a lie. There was no buzz of the city. There was no honking of horns, or loud music from cars. There was only the quiet sound of the sea slapping against the rocks. This place was tinged with sadness, a feeling that Casey was all too familiar with.
After a short ride in the back of a pedicab, they arrived at The Salem Inn. Upon checking in, Casey realized that they had been booked in the Honeymoon Suite in the Captain West House. This suited her now that Conor was there. She was excited to explore Salem in the light of day, but tonight, she desired only to explore every inch of her lover. When they received their key, they were directed to their room.
The suite was rather small, but quaint. The décor was old-fashioned, donning delicate antiques throughout. Casey was pleased that the room came with a fireplace, and she automatically thought of their naked bodies dancing with one another in front of it. Conor walked in and set their bags down on a chair that was a flattering shade of peach. He sat down on the bed and patted the floral bedspread beside him. Casey sat down and rested her head on his shoulder.
“This room is so charming,” she said.
“It is nice, isn’t it? I have passed by the Inn, but never stayed here,” Conor replied. She was glad to hear that the experience was new to the both of them. He kissed her forehead, and rose to make his way to the fireplace.
“I think I’m going to take a bath,” Casey said, rising to head to the bathroom.
She twisted her long locks into a tight bun and undressed as the tub filled. She got in, letting the heat soothe her body. It had been one long week. She was curious about the hypnosis, eager for her memories to become clear. She thought about the memory she had experienced on the ferry dock. It had felt so real. She was almost certain that it was not just something that her mind had made up. What had they been yelling about? Her memory could not dredge up their exchange of words, but it was obvious that there had been a serious argument between she and Jace. Why had her face hurt? The searing pain had remained even after traveling back to reality. As the water soothed her tense muscles, Casey let the thoughts settle as well. De-stress. Relaxation. This weekend was not about solving a mystery, but rather, forgetting that a mystery ever existed.
Returning her mind to the delicious man in the other room, Casey rose from the tub and dried herself off. She thought about putting on some fresh clothes, but decided that they would soon be off anyway. She dropped her towel on the ground, let her hair loose to fall directly in front of her breasts, and walked into their suite.
Apparently having the same idea in mind, Conor was lying naked on a thick rug in front of the fireplace. The room was dim, but in the light of the fire, she could make out the edges of his rock-hard erection, which he was softly palming. As his eyes traveled her body, it seemed that he grew larger at the sight.
“Come here,” he commanded, reaching his hand out for her. She lay on her back beside him, and he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, t
ucking it behind her ear.
“Ya are so beautiful. How did I come to be so lucky?” Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her lush lips and ran his fingers down her body. She gasped as his fingertips brushed along her flesh. He rubbed her gently, coaxing her to dampen for him. When he had her lubricated, he said, “I want to taste ya.” The words escaped on a breath, as though he was famished for her.
He made his way from her lips to her nipples, stopping to pleasure each bud. He then followed a trail with his tongue until he was situated between her legs.
“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded. She obeyed without hesitation. With two fingers on each side, Conor spread her lips wide, leaving her throbbing clitoris exposed. She felt so vulnerable, so open. “Beautiful,” he said again, his lips so close that she felt the warmth of his breath on her slick flesh.
A bolt of electricity shot through her body, followed by a rush of heat from her arousal. Unable to speak, she rolled her hips toward his face, desperately yearning for him to lap her exposed parts. He submitted to her unspoken command, slowly running the very tip of his tongue from bottom to top. Casey cried out, already on the verge of orgasm from the sensation. When he did it again, pausing in between for a bit of light teasing, Casey rolled her hips once more, feeding him a mouthful of her over-heated sex.
He moaned loudly, following her lead and lapping her ferociously. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her back arched as he feasted on her. She moaned. He moaned.
She thought that she was winning the battle against a quick orgasm until he did something that was utterly new to her. As his tongue kept the pace ravaging her, she felt one of Conor’s fingers slide into her ass. The sensation hurt a bit at first, and she felt herself tensing around him. Then, as she got used to it, she was unable to contain her orgasm. As he gently stroked her there, and licked her sensitive flesh, she reached her peak wildly. As she screamed and he stroked, she was sure that she stopped breathing and lost consciousness for at least a moment. When she was finished, he licked delicately at her quivering sex, Casey too physically stunned to bid him to stop.
The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 16