by Maggie Ryan
“No, You haven’t got all day,” Beau agreed, coming up behind her. “In fact, you haven’t got five minutes. This is ridiculous. You’ve just fainted. You’re not going to get up and keep working! We’ve got to get you in to see the doctor.” He scooped her into his arms and in one swift and fluid motion, began to make his way through the sea of people.
“Beau, what are you talking about? Put me down this instant. I don’t need to see the doctor—I just saw him! See, he’s right there! I just got overwhelmed, honey, but I’m fine now. I demand that you put me down this instant!”
Beau kept going, ignoring her completely, pausing only when he got to the doors at the front of the restaurant. “Marcus?” he called out over her head. “I’ll meet you at the clinic?”
“I’m right behind you,” the doctor affirmed.
“Beau!” Ginger cried, squirming against him, trying in vain to free herself from his hold. “This place is a mad house! I can’t leave Amber here all alone!”
“Don’t worry,” he replied gruffly. “Jonathan is handling it.”
She looked over his shoulder to see her friend, armed with his ever present clipboard, step forward to take her place at the register.
Chapter 9
Beau paced the floor of the small makeshift exam room in Marcus’ home as the doctor took Ginger’s vitals. Ginger was still protesting loudly, arguing with both of them every step of the way.
“Blood pressure is a little high, but no surprise there. That’s to be expected.” Marcus murmured, putting the cuff back into its place on the wall and stepping forward with a fresh thermometer. “Open your mouth, and lift up your tongue.”
Ginger glared at him. “This is absurd. It’s obvious that I don’t have a fever. I’m not sick.” She clamped her lips shut, refusing to cooperate.
Marcus raised his eyebrows and looked silently across the room at him. His expression seemed to ask, “Do you want to handle this, or should I?”
Beau stepped forward. “Ginger, open your mouth this instant, or I will pick you up, flip you over this table, bare your bottom, and take your temperature myself, after I teach you an old-fashioned lesson in cooperation and obedience.”
Ginger’s eyes blazed with anger and more than a hint of defiance. She blushed to the roots of her hair, but her mouth stayed clamped tight, and Beau wondered if he would actually have to follow through.
“You wouldn’t,” she challenged.
“Are you sure about that?” he countered.
She hesitated, gauging him carefully as she considered whether or not he would actually do it.
He stepped forward menacingly.
Her mouth popped open and Marcus silently slid the thermometer under her tongue, leaving it there for only a minute before giving it a cursory glance and chucking it into the nearby trash can. “It’s normal.”
“Duh,” she said it lightly under her breath, but still loud enough for them both to hear.
“Okay then,” Beau spoke tightly, trying to keep his annoyance under wraps, “I didn’t realize you had a medical degree, but why don’t you explain to us why you suddenly passed out cold in front of half the town?
“Because,” she spoke slowly, and he was sure she was purposefully talking down to them. “I’m fine. It was just too much. I haven’t been to work in a long time, so I’m not used to the…the people or the noise, and it was just too much too soon. I got overwhelmed. End of story.”
Except, it was not the end of the story as far as Beau was concerned. “Excuse me? What do you mean you haven’t been going to work? I thought we agreed you would go in at least an hour every day. Have you been lying to me?”
“No!” Ginger began to backtrack, looking panicked. “That came out wrong! I’ve been going in every day, I promise, but I usually go before we are open in the morning, before opening!”
Beau’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”
“Inventory, paperwork, invoices, scheduling, those can all be done anytime. If I go in the morning, I don’t have to worry about getting in Laney’s way, and Hazel is still in a good mood. I can get everything done and leave before she needs a nap, and not worry about having to get a sitter.”
“I see. Is that the only reason?”
“Yes!” Ginger declared emphatically, and Beau could tell she was lying this time.
He frowned. Maybe this was not the place for this discussion. Maybe they would be better off having this discussion in private. Then, he could if necessary, get to the bottom of things by way of her bare bottom.
“Fine, we’ll discuss this further at home if Dr. Devon has no objections.”
“No objections,” Marcus agreed. “But, Beau, if Ginger doesn’t mind, I would like to speak with you privately for a moment.”
“Actually, I do mind,” she intoned sarcastically. “I’m right here, and I have all my sensibilities intact. There’s no need for you to talk behind my back.”
“Fine,” Dr. Devon said with a sigh. “What I think we are dealing with here is a pretty run of the mill case of post-partum anxiety. It is fairly common, but without Ginger’s full cooperation, I have no way of knowing how severe a case we are dealing with. I don’t think there is too much cause for concern at this point, and we should be able to get it under control quickly and easily now that we are aware of it. However, it has come to my attention from several residents that this may not be the first time Ginger has had an attack like this. To my knowledge, it has happened at least one other time.”
Beau gasped, dumbfounded at the new information. “Ginger, is this true?”
She refused to answer, keeping her gaze trained on a spot on the ceiling above her head.
The doctor gave him a knowing look before continuing. “For that reason, I’m going to suggest a series of sessions with Traci Jackson, Corbin’s Bend’s therapist, along with a regimen of daily exercise and a variety of herbal supplements. After a few weeks, I’ll confer with you both, and with Traci, and we will reassess. If those things don’t seem to be helping, I may have to prescribe something for depression and anxiety, but I don’t honestly think it will come to that.”
Beau couldn’t comprehend what the doctor was saying. It felt surreal, like a conversation he was watching take place, instead of one he was a part of. How could he not have known any of this? Depression? Anxiety? Panic Attacks? He had not had a clue, not even the slightest inkling. Had Ginger? According to the doctor, she had. Why had she not said anything?
His eyes darted to where she still sat on the exam table, and found her silently sobbing, with her eyes closed. Tears fell fast down her face, landing with a splat on the filmy paper that covered the sterile exam table.
His heart broke seeing her in pain like that, and not being able to scoop her up in his arms and kiss it all better. He moved towards her quickly, and she pulled away from him. Beyond the tears and raw pain and brokenness, he could see on the outside was the strong independent woman hiding behind carefully constructed walls she built up around herself. He was too late.
“Ginger, are you hearing me? Can you agree to that, please, or give me some indication that you’re even listening?” Marcus addressed only her, but she gazed past him, her eyes cool and vacant.
He shrugged his shoulders in Beau’s direction, looking helpless.
“I heard you, Doctor,” Beau assured him. “I’ll take care of it.”
Marcus nodded, and with sagging shoulders, turned and exited the room.
The ride home was silent, at least from Ginger’s side of the car. Beau tried his best to engage her, but she stubbornly stonewalled him at every turn.
“When did you start having panic attacks?” he questioned her, shortly after they got in the car to head home.
No answer.
“How many times has this happened?” he tried hopefully.
Nothing. She stared out the window, refusing to even glance in his direction.
“Ginger, this is serious. I’m your husband. It’s my job to take ca
re of you. How am I supposed to do that if you’re not being truthful with me and pushing me out?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted flatly.
He turned sharply into their driveway and stared at her aghast. “You are not fine! This is not fine!” His hand pounded the steering wheel in frustration. “Were you even listening to Dr. Devon? Depression, anxiety, panic attacks? Ginger, that is serious stuff!”
“Marcus doesn’t know what he is talking about.”
“Excuse me?” Beau couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re being very rude and disrespectful. I am warning you right now, you better change your tune, and fast!”
“Beau, I’m fine! I just…there were too many people, and it was my first time being away from Hazel, and I didn’t have time to eat before Amber called. If Dr. Devon would have done his job, and checked my blood sugar, he would have seen that that was the only real problem I was having.”
She was lying, and he knew it. He had cleaned up her lunch dishes, for god’s sake. She obviously didn’t realize that he had already been home before getting the call from Jonathan.
“Stop it. You lied to me in the clinic, and you’re lying now. This is not a joke. This is a big deal. You got lucky today that you were in a restaurant full of people including Dr. Devon, and not at home alone with Hazel. It could have been much worse.”
He swallowed thickly, realizing at once how very true this was, as a barrage of worst-case scenarios bombarded him each more dangerous than the last.
“You should be thanking Dr. Devon, not questioning his methods.”
She continued to ignore him, staring mutely out the window. Was he getting through to her at all? He really couldn’t tell. At a loss for what else to say, he gave up.
“Where’s Hazel, again? I’ll go get her. You go inside and rest.”
She couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. “She’s at the Rolsons!”
She had a spanking coming, she just knew it. She had lied to Beau twice, and he had caught her at it. It would be her first punishment spanking since they had updated their arrangement, and even though she was nervous, and full of dread, she was almost looking forward to it. She knew it would be harsh, Beau didn’t tolerate lying at all, and she knew she would cry.
With the tears she knew she would shed, would come a loss of inhibitions. She felt the most free to be herself after a hard spanking. The crippling fears and layers of self-loathing seemed to melt away with each blow of the paddle against her bare bottom. She shivered in anticipation, knowing that she would have to wait until night time, after Hazel went to bed.
The waiting was the hardest part, and the newest. Before Hazel had come along, when a spanking was warranted, it was always delivered swiftly and immediately.
She glanced at the clock. It was only two-thirty. She would have to wait until at least eight, if not later. She knew it would suck terribly and be the worst she had had in a very long time, but she knew that afterwards she would feel better, and be able to talk freely without the crippling fear of recrimination. It was silly, she thought, to need a spanking to be able to talk to your own husband, especially when he was as amazing as Beau, but it was simply the way she was wired, and always had been. Beau knew that. He wouldn’t let her down.
He made the short drive from the Rolsons to home fighting a migraine. The events of the afternoon had both literally and figuratively knocked the wind out of him.
He had known, of course, that Ginger hadn’t been the same since Hazel was born, but that was to be expected, and he had chalked it up to her OCD personality, combined with the adjustment of motherhood, and sleep deprivation. Post-partum depression hadn’t even crossed his mind. Of course, once Marcus had suggested it, everything had clicked. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen what was going on right under his nose.
And your brilliant solution was to become Mr. Super HOH, he berated himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should have known better, should have seen the writing on the wall and made her seek help. Instead, he had exacerbated the problem with high expectations, almost daily spankings, and ridiculous lists. But, he argued with himself, that was helping. Things had been getting better, hadn’t they?
Obviously not man, you were deluding yourself with your own wishful thinking. A spanking is a bandaid, not a cure-all.
He made up his mind then and there. There would be no more spankings or anything resembling domestic discipline until her depression was cured. He couldn’t say for sure if his strict regimen and frequent spankings had compounded the problem or not, but it didn’t matter. It was not a risk he was willing to take.
He would tell her tonight. Maybe without the threat of a punishment hanging over her head she would feel free to open up to him. He pulled into the garage, feeling as if a giant weight had lifted off his shoulders. He still had a problem to deal with, but at least now he didn’t have to worry that he would make it worse somehow. He gathered Hazel and her belongings from the backseat and entered the house.
Ginger was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into space. The TV, he noticed, was on, and turned to the home shopping channel of all things.
When she saw him, her face lit up and she put out her arms, reaching for the baby, who he happily handed over. It was hard to be upset with a baby in your arms, and he needed her to be relaxed and responsive for their conversation.
He took off his jacket and lowered himself to the couch beside her. “That was some day,” he started casually.
“Beau, I’m not really ready to talk about it right now. I just want to spend time with Hazel and relax. We can talk after dinner, I promise.”
He studied her, noting her tired eyes and drawn expression. She looked drained, but her smile while weak, seemed genuine. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “I’ll go see what I can come up with to fix for dinner.”
In the end, he fixed a simple but delicious meal of grilled steak, baked potatoes, and green salad while Ginger and Hazel napped on the couch.
They ate early, in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, wrapped up in what was to come. Beau pretty much spent the entire meal praying that he wouldn’t somehow mess up, despite his good intentions.
Finally, the meal was finished and the kitchen cleaned up, and Hazel was in her playpen in the living room, jabbering away, and totally engrossed in her own feet. He took Ginger by the hand and led her to the couch.
“It’s time to talk,” he told her firmly, making sure his tone bode no room for argument.
“I know,” she sighed heavily, her eyes welling up with tears. “I know I should, it’s just hard, you know. And today, with Marcus, and everyone, it was just so humiliating!” She was crying already, and his heart was breaking for her.
“Sweetie,” he said, pulling her close to him and tucking her head under his chin. “There’s no reason for you to be humiliated at all! Nobody is anything but worried about you. Do you know how many calls and texts I got this afternoon just from people wanting to check up on you, and make sure you were okay? I had to turn my phone to vibrate so that it wouldn’t wake you up!” He was only half joking.
She gave him a weak smile, looking up at him through her tears. “I know. Me too.”
“So you see,” he told her with a smile as he squeezed her playfully. “No reason to be embarrassed. But,” he continued, turning serious quickly, “we do need to talk about what Dr. Devon said today. You’ve been having panic attacks? This wasn’t the first time? Ginger, why didn’t you tell me?”
She opened her mouth to respond, and he quickly put his hand up to stop her. “Before we go any further in this conversation, I want you to know that you can speak freely. I can see now that reinstating domestic discipline before you were ready was a mistake on my part, so for that I’m sorry. And you need to know that whatever you say or do while we’re talking is okay. I want you to feel free to express yourself without the threat of a punishment hanging over your head, so until you’re feeling better, and we both agree, domest
ic discipline is off the table, okay?”
Ginger pulled away to face him, and gaped at him, aghast, looking not at all happy or relieved as he expected. “But, Beau, I lied to you-twice!”
“I know, but I realize now that there were extenuating circumstances.”
“I lied! That’s like your biggest, most important rule!”
“I realize that, honey, but I’m saying that it doesn’t matter. Your health and well-being is more important than a silly rule.”
“What? Beau, I lied about my well-being. That practically counts as dishonesty and dangerous behavior! You can’t let me get away with that,” she argued.
Beau just shook his head, amused. He couldn’t believe she was seriously trying to talk him into a spanking. Then again, she did love to argue.
“Obviously,” he clarified, “I don’t want you to continue lying to me just because you can, or anything, but I just want you to be unburdened enough to heal on your own time table. I want you to realize you can come to me with anything, without having to worry about the fate of your bottom.” He smiled encouragingly, but she did not look amused. “Anyway,” he continued, “the point is, we need to talk about what is going on with you and make a plan of action. I’m here for you. Let’s start with this afternoon. I know you ate lunch, and I know it wasn’t your blood sugar, so you can you tell me what happened at work today?”
Ginger just stared at him silently. Maybe she just needed more specific questioning. It must be hard for her to talk about.
“I’ve never had a panic attack. What does it feel like? Do you always faint, or was this the first time that happened?”
Ginger tilted her head, and regarded him with sad wide eyes. “You know what, Beau? I’m still really tired, and I just can’t get into all this right now. I’m going to bed.”
She left abruptly, taking Hazel with her and leaving Beau staring after her dumbfounded, wondering where he had gone wrong.