Zenith Rising (Zenith Trilogy, #2)

by Leanne Davis

  He let out a breath. How did she do it? Remain uninvolved on behalf of a girl who didn’t deserve it? Who deliberately lied and caused all this gut-wrenching stress?

  “I don’t think she’s lying in the way you mean. She’s having something called pseudocyesis.”

  “Pseudo what? If she’s not pregnant, she’s not. That means she’s lying.”

  “No, she’s not. This is a real condition. It has a lot of names, false pregnancy, hysterical pregnancy, imaginary pregnancy, and the list goes on. Cases have been documented for centuries. It’s rare, extremely rare. I’ve never come across it in my practice before today.”

  “What exactly is it?” Spencer felt dazed. Angry. Confused. Pissed off.

  “The most common factor to all cases is the affected patient remains convinced she is pregnant. Their symptoms mimic true pregnancy, and are hard to distinguish from the real thing. Morning sickness, tender breasts, weight gain, and period cessation, as Tamira has evinced. And even some abdominal distension; the abdomen expands in the same manner as it would in a normal pregnancy. Medically, I thought Tamira really was pregnant. The only thing missing was the fetus on the ultra sound.”

  Spencer didn’t know what to say. He was stunned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Tamira is having these physical symptoms and she really believes she’s pregnant. She wasn’t screwing with you.”

  “So you’re saying she has somehow replicated actually being pregnant? How could that be? Why?”

  “No one knows exactly why. There are so few cases, the causes have been studied very little. There is no single, underlying cause. Women who are emotionally unstable, or become extremely emotional about discussing pregnancy are often at risk for this. I guess for Tamira, it could be just wish fulfillment, in which her minor body changes have created the false belief of true pregnancy.”

  “You think she wanted to be pregnant so bad, her body believes she now is?”

  “Yes. But she’s a victim of this. And not causing it.”

  “Why would she be so emotional over a pregnancy?”

  “Her history.”

  Spencer paused. “Why you kept warning me away from her.”

  “Yes.”

  “And now you can tell me.”

  “I first met her when she was eighteen. That was three years ago. She had a rash that wouldn’t go away and vaginal warts. Anyway, I saw her a lot. But usually, for nothing. She came back all the time, nearly weekly for a while. I suspected someone was hurting her and she was looking for help. For some reason, she liked me, but she wouldn’t come right out and tell me why she kept coming in. I let her because I hoped to gain her trust so she would tell me the truth. Turns out, I was right. She finally told me. Her father had been molesting her as long as she could remember.”

  Spencer’s insides tightened and bile climbed up his throat. He thought about how he treated her. How carelessly he had sex with her. He closed his eyes, preferring not to know anymore about Tamira.

  “Still, she wouldn’t leave home. She was afraid to leave her father and he had complete control over her. He had her convinced she liked the abuse, and purposely brought it on herself. Guilt and self-loathing kept her with him until she was nineteen. That’s when she came to me pregnant.”

  Spencer drew in a sharp breath. “Her father’s baby?”

  Erica nodded. “Yes. She eventually decided to have an abortion, which I performed for her. I do them only rarely. But I had to do it. She was destroyed. But you see why she had to do it. Anyway, she came to me months later, wanting to move out. She completed a course in medical billing, all with the end goal of working here, for me, which I knew was wrong. She never even told me about her goals. She just decided she had to work for me, and got the training she needed so she could do something here. What could I say? Refuse her? She seems to look to me for guidance. And support. I don’t know exactly why. Except that I pressed hard to find out what was going on with her father, and no one else ever did.”

  Spencer knew exactly why. Because Erica was the inquisitive woman she was.

  “Then I came along.”

  “Yes. I saw the weird attraction she had toward you. Telling me to back off. I knew she believed you were in love with each other.”

  “I should have listened to you. She just… she was so convincing; she was a good time girl. She claimed what we were doing was exactly what she wanted.”

  “She’s not well. I knew that. What could I do? I’ve been encouraging her to get help and counseling. I suspect she might be bi-polar. At the very least, she’s emotionally unstable.”

  “And that’s why she seemed to need you and only you today? And why you agreed to see her?”

  “Yes. Despite you.”

  Erica got up and came around her desk before she started pacing. “I knew better. That this was wrong. Us. She was on a very narrow line and anything would push her over. And learning about us, that knowledge pushed her. I’m sure of it. I should have known better.”

  “You can’t be held responsible for her mental stability. You can’t live your life around what your employee, or your patient intends to do. I’d be more at fault than you, if that were the case. I didn’t know either.”

  “Well, I did.”

  “Erica, we…”

  “We’ve been a mistake from the start. I knew that too. You’re like a goddamn train wreck for me.”

  “That’s not fair…”

  “Not right now. I can’t do this right now.”

  “Okay. What is the cure for the… what is it called again?”

  “Pseudocyesis. And there is no cure. It’s not real clear what anyone should do. Since Tamira suffers from emotional problems that could’ve directly brought this on, like her guilt over the abortion, and abuse and her dad; whatever it was led her to believe she is now having your baby. So I’ve got to tell her the truth.”

  “You just tell her?”

  “I will show her using the ultrasound and that there is nothing there. No heartbeat. No fetus. Nothing. I’m also calling a counselor we have on-call, and hopefully, Tamira can be treated for the underlying emotional and psychological causes of this false pregnancy.”

  Spencer ran a hand through his hair, now feeling completely shaken. Completely freaked out. But also completely in awe of Erica’s ability to face things, as well as her ceaseless compassion. Her innate goodness. She was so much more than he was. So much more than he could ever be. It was illustrated perfectly by this incident and how they both reacted to the situation.

  He hated to ask, but he didn’t know what to do. “What do I do?”

  Erica sighed and her shoulders dropped. “Go home, Spencer. Just go home.”

  Spencer stood up, wanting to reach a hand out to her and touch her. Hug her. Kiss her. Care for her. She looked so tired. So upset. So stressed. By him. And Tamira. He didn’t touch her though. He didn’t do anything.

  “I’m sorry, Erica,” he said softly.

  She waved her hand at him. “Just please get out and leave me alone. I can’t take much more, not right now. Maybe not ever.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Erica handled Spencer wrong, and now she blamed him for the medical and emotional well being of a girl who was screwed up long before Spencer even entered the picture. She lost her cool with him because she couldn’t lose it with Tamira or the situation. She got so rattled by walking into that exam room and finding them there, together, in her domain that she almost couldn’t remember what exactly she was supposed to be doing.

  She hated thinking about Spencer sleeping with Tamira. It bothered her from the night she first witnessed it. And what bothered her even more was she wasn’t worried about Tamira as she claimed to be. She was jealous. Jealous that Spencer wanted Tamira. And did that with Tamira. As Erica worked, talked, and put up with Tamira, she never stopped wondering how many times they slept together. When? Where? What they really meant to each other.

  And all the while, the poor girl was be
coming undone. Dissociating. Losing her mind. Erica was merely jealous, like they were still in high school and she was mad Spencer passed notes to the new cheerleader and not to her. Meanwhile, Tamira was having an emotional breakdown right in front of her.

  What was it about Spencer that could turn intelligent, and not so intelligent women, into basket cases of shredded nerves, anxiety, and female complexes? Was it just female competition? How could Spencer turn Erica into someone who would sleep with one of her patients’ lovers?

  And it’s not like she could say she and Spencer were in love. She had no clue what Spencer thought. Or felt. Or cared about. She didn’t know about his past; hell, she hardly even knew about his present.

  But she was falling fast and hard in love with him. Despite how difficult he was to be with. To know. To love. She did, and she was. And it terrified her. She feared the power he’d have over her. What he’d do to her. What she’d let him do to her heart.

  The day spent with Tamira seemed endless. Tears. Denial. Anger. More tears. Erica patiently tried to show Tamara the truth. Proving it by using the most high tech of tests for evidence. She simply wasn’t pregnant. Erica finally left Tamira in the hands of Dr. Kerrington, a specialist in grief counseling. That’s how upset Tamira became. As if she lost the baby and was grieving over that.

  All day, the next, and the one after that, Erica thought about Spencer. She remembered how lost he looked standing in her office. He wanted her to forgive him. To find a little compassion for him. And she completely ignored him. Even turned away from him. He, who didn’t call her Erica. Not like that. Not in that serious, caring voice. She could physically feel he wanted to touch her and she rejected him. He, who never reached out to people, ever, but he tried to with her. And she was too mad at him to care. To accept his overtures. She was mad at him for doing nothing more than being an adult and having consensual sex.

  The truth was: she wasn’t acting like an adult about sex that happened long before she entered the picture with Spencer.

  He couldn’t have known how fragile Tamira was. He couldn’t be blamed for her hysterical pregnancy. He couldn’t be blamed for her jealousy over what happened before she ever even noticed Spencer as a man. A man she could love.

  As he well knew, she didn’t consider him someone she could date. He was too young and too different from her lifestyle. Too tall. Too poor. Too whatever. She used every reason she could think of, letting off all the signals that he wasn’t suitable for her to date. Or to be noticed as a worthy man in his own right.

  Except: he was worthy. He stood by Tamira, all the while seething inside, but stayed there and was willing to stand by her. He was a brilliant pianist, and a hard worker, no matter what task he was given. She overlooked him. She did not even consider dating him.

  There was so much more to Spencer that explained why he was how he was. And she wanted to know what and why, and what to do about it. What to do with the feelings clogging up her brain, making her heart beat rougher, and her stomach churn.

  Spencer scared her. He was nothing like any man she pictured for herself. Nothing at all. He was like no man she ever considered. And that scared her. Not knowing what to expect. Or what to feel. Just thinking of him put butterflies in her stomach. Never feeling quite like this before, she became almost giddy over him, which was not exactly something she’d ever experienced before.

  Now she just had to figure out how to get him to talk to her again.

  ****

  Rob answered her knock.

  “Erica?” His eyebrows rose up.

  “Hi. Is Spencer here?”

  “Yeah. Sure. He’s upstairs. Come in,” Rob said, stepping aside, and waving his hand for her to enter. Her heart accelerated with nerves now that she was here, ready to do this.

  She felt the urge to clear her throat and explain herself to Rob; or the very least, ask Rob what the hell she should do. But instead, she stood there, mute.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Mostly. Why do you ask?”

  Rob shrugged. “Spencer’s been here the last few days. Won’t say why. Won’t say a word.”

  “Does he do that often?” Erica asked. She was hungry for knowledge of the man she loved, and didn’t really know. She didn’t always get or understand Spencer, and Rob was probably the only person alive with any true comprehension of his personality.

  “Yeah, Erica he can do this often.”

  “Why? What sets him off?”

  “Lately? You. But other times? Hard to say. Just things. Memories. Ask him, Erica. No one ever asks him, so it wouldn’t occur to him to say why.”

  Erica licked her lips with nervous gratitude. “I will. Thanks, Rob.”

  Rob smiled, and nodded. “I’m glad you’re here. He’s inside the third door on the left.”

  Erica wondered desperately why Rob was glad she was there? And what could it possibly be that so plagued Spencer? Why didn’t anyone know about him? Why didn’t more people care about him? Why was there no one, but Rob?

  Erica turned and went up the stairs, entering the dark hallway. Music thumped from behind a closed door. It was loud with a deep bass, and nothing she liked or would listen to. Of course. Why should they share the same taste in music?

  Erica opened the door after receiving no reply to her knock. Inside, Spencer was seated on a weight machine, pressing two bars together as the weights behind him clicked up and down. Sweat poured off him, and beaded on his forehead. His tank top was stuck to his skin, and his black shorts were damp with sweat.

  The music was loud, jarring and young. Not exactly her choice.

  She had to step into his line of vision for him to notice her, so loud was the room. And so intensely was he working with the weights. He stopped dead when he noticed her and just stared. Nothing on him twitched or flinched. Not even a muscle in his face.

  Finally, he slowly let the weights down. Standing up, he crossed the room, and turned the speaker down that his iPod was hooked into. He did not seem glad to see her.

  He straightened to his full height, and Erica took a deep breath as trepidation filled her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally, unable to think of anything else to say. She had a long speech all prepared in her head. A reason that explained everything she had said and done. But he didn’t look like he cared to hear any of it. So… the bottom line was that she was sorry.

  He grabbed a towel he threw in the corner of the room and wiped off his face and arms. She watched his muscles bunching under his skin that was so dark and slick. Her gut tightened. Sometimes, he was so unapproachable and could be so cold.

  She neared him and he stiffened when she put a hand out to his arm, sliding it up to his shoulder.

  He practically jerked at her soft touch. “I’m sweaty.”

  “I don’t care.” She brought her body closer, placing her other hand on his other arm. His muscles tensed under her grip before his body became rigid. He turned, and shook her off, then sat back down on the weight machine.

  “Forget it. Forget all of it.”

  His back was toward her, and his voice sounded so cold, it made her flinch. She went up behind him, and put her hands on his shoulders, pressing her mouth on the base of his neck. She began kissing him, softly, repeatedly, all along his hairline, over his ear, and on his cheek. He simply stopped moving.

  “I’m not forgetting anything. Or us. I’m sorry. So sorry,” she said as she kissed him, gently, with feather-like kisses. He sighed and melted back into her, his shoulders sagging and his head turning just enough that his mouth caught hers. She moved closer and brushed her hands through his hair. Her tongue sought out his lips, and pressed, until finally, he opened his mouth, as his tongue joined hers. She could feel his hesitance to let her touch him. Yet anytime she did, he became still, nearly perfectly still. Almost like he was afraid to move or acknowledge she was touching him lest she stop.

  Spencer felt something new for her, something deep and real. Something he did
n’t know what to do with. He snapped at her, and rejected her, trying to get away from her, because strange as it seemed, he wanted just the opposite from her. Yet, when she cornered him, he couldn’t resist her. That’s all she had to go on. But she was sure this thing between them was something big, and something very real. She had no doubt about it. Now she just had to figure out how to deal with it. She couldn’t understand what it did to Spencer, who erected such defenses, it seemed almost like a body suit of armor around him.

  She took his hands in hers and held him and kissed him. Finally, parting her lips from his, she trailed her kisses into his hair. He flipped his hands over to grasp her wrists and turned towards her. With Spencer sitting down, she was just slightly taller. “Back where we left off, Doc? Thanks, but I’ve had more than my fair share of women for now. I don’t need sex that badly.”

  She flinched and let out a breath. He was so good at this: he could tell a person off like no one else she knew. He could be so mean.

  “Left off? No, in my version, it was dating. Not just sleeping together. I’m not going to go crazy on you. I’m not going to become hysterically pregnant. I shouldn’t have taken everything out on you.”

  “Why? I deserved it,” he said. The invisible wall stood between them; he thought he didn’t deserve her. And had failed once again.

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “You couldn’t have known what was wrong with Tamira. I did. Although I didn’t see any of this coming. I was jealous. All of this was because I was jealous of her having your baby. That’s it. That’s why I got so upset. Not because of how you handled it or even that it happened. I was mad, no, furious, to think she would become a part of your life, and have your baby. It wasn’t your fault. Or mine. It was a medical condition of a confused, unbalanced girl. It wasn’t us.”

  Spencer stared at her. “Get real! If it wasn’t this, it would have been that; and we’d be done no matter what.”

  She met his gaze and held it for a long, poignant pause, then she whispered, “That’s the thing, we’re not done. We’re just beginning.”