At Home In Corbin's Bend

by Maggie Ryan

  He had let her down. She couldn’t believe he had let her down. The thought played over and over in her head all night, like a broken record on repeat, keeping her tossing and turning all night long.

  When she awoke the next morning, it was still there, her first coherent thought of the day, before her eyes were even fully open. He had let her down.

  He was also, seemingly, oblivious to the fact. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse. It was Sunday, and to her dismay, Beau had nothing to do, having run their weekly errands the day before. She made it her goal for the day to avoid him whenever possible. He tried to talk to her a few times, questioning her repeatedly about how she was feeling, and what had happened the day before, but each time she brushed him off finding a chore to do in another room, as far away from him as possible. After all, she thought bitterly, domestic discipline was off the table. If she couldn’t get in trouble for the things she did say, then she also couldn’t get in trouble for the things she didn’t say.

  Her plan worked for most of the day. While Hazel took a late afternoon nap, she moved into their room and started organizing the closet. She was knee deep in a pile of shoes when Beau snuck up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. To be fair, he hadn’t really snuck up on her, she just hadn’t been paying attention and hadn’t heard him.

  “Ahhhhh!” she screamed, and whirled around in the closet, fists cocked and ready to fight. She jumped in his direction.

  “Whoa!” Beau went flying backwards onto the floor, laughing hysterically, his hands up in front of him in a motion of surrender.

  “Beau!” she shrieked in surprise, fighting back a case of the giggles. “I’m sorry, but you scared the crap out of me.” She reached down and took his hand, helping him to stand.

  “I scared you? You came at me like a wounded mama bear spoiling for a fight! I’m lucky I only fell. For a minute there, I thought I was going to get the daylights knocked out of me. I sure learned not to sneak up on you like that again!”

  “You know these closets are practically soundproof! You should have knocked on the door or something.”

  “Maybe I should have,” Beau agreed seriously. “But what are you even doing in here anyway? C’mon out of there, you don’t need to be working on this right now. You need to rest and relax. There will be time enough for cleaning and organizing when you’re feeling better.” He grabbed her wrist and gently tugged her into the bedroom.

  She dug in her heels and resisted. “First of all, I’m fine okay? I’m depressed, not an invalid. Second, doing projects and being productive makes me feel good. You know this. At least,” she corrected, snidely, “you should. We’ve been married nearly seven years now, and I’ve always been the same. I’m not the one who’s changed,” she added accusingly.

  “What exactly is that supposed to mean? I have not changed, and you most certainly have. Look at the last few months. I realize it’s not your fault, but God, Ginger, sometimes I barely recognize you.”

  She had, as Beau was fond of saying, gotten her ginger up, and it didn’t pass her attention that it was the first time in a long time that she felt passionately angry or excitable about something.

  “Get out of my way,” she glowered, pushing past him to make her way back into the closet, slamming the door behind her.

  She could hear Beau pacing around the bedroom, probably, she thought ironically, wishing he could flip her over his knee and spank her silly right about now.

  “Isn’t that just too bad!” she yelled into the empty room, pretending to concentrate on sorting her heels from her flats. It was hopeless, she was crying again and couldn’t even see through her tears. She was disgusted with how easily she cried these days. It used to take her a lot to get to that point, sometimes even Beau’s hardest spanking wouldn’t do it, but now she seemed to cry at the drop of a hat over anything and everything. Stupid hormones.

  She wiped her soggy face with her shirt sleeve and listened for the sound of Beau’s retreating footsteps. When she was sure he was gone, she climbed out of the closet, and too emotionally drained to do anything else, fell into their bed and took a nap.

  Chapter 10

  How was your day today? What did you and Hazel do?” Beau questioned over dinner on Friday night.

  “We didn’t do anything.” Four words, no information, yet it was the most she had said to him all week.

  He still knew as much about the panic attacks and anxiety as he had at this time last week, which was absolutely nothing. He was completely in the dark. Every time he tried talking to her about it, she shut down.

  He had gone into Boulder on Monday and picked up the supplements Dr. Devon had suggested but he had no idea if she was taking them or not. If she was, they didn’t seem to be working.

  “Did you and Hazel make it out for a walk today at least?”

  “No. Too cold.”

  Beau sighed heavily. Resisting the urge to yell, he chewed on his lip instead. It had been 65 degrees today, at least.

  “Ginger, you heard what Marcus said. You need to get out and get some fresh air and exercise every day, and take your vitamins, or we’re going to have to look into some anti-depressants for you.” His voice softened. “Sweetie, I know that’s not what you want, but if you’re not going to follow his suggestions, you really don’t leave me any choice. I guess I’ll have to call Marcus tomorrow and see what he recommends.”

  “No!” Her voice was hard, and panicked. “I’ll walk tomorrow!”

  “Tonight, after dinner. It won’t get dark for another couple of hours, so you have plenty of time.” His tone left no room for argument, but he was prepared for her to give one anyway.

  To his abject surprise, she didn’t disagree. She didn’t say anything at all. She wore a tight pinched expression that looked as if she was trying not to cry, though he couldn’t understand why.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked lightly, trying to be helpful.

  “No, I’ll be fine.” She didn’t look fine.

  She pushed her plate away then, and stood up slowly, walking to the coat rack by the front door. She wordlessly selected a light jacket, and left quickly without saying a word of goodbye.

  Ginger slid against the closed front door, and gulped against the sobs threatening to overwhelm her. She hated that tears seemed to be her go to coping mechanism these days.

  It had been on the tip of her tongue all week to just scream at him, “For god’s sake, would you please just spank me already!” She had nearly done as much Saturday night, and he had turned her down, so she wasn’t about to ask again, only to be turned down.

  It was ridiculous, she thought, pacing the length of the driveway, but she didn’t even recognize herself anymore. When had the strong confident in control businesswoman who had a tendency to speak her mind much too often, become this blithering, indecisive, passive aggressive shell of her former self who was afraid to ask for what she wanted most for fear of rejection? When had that happened?

  She sucked in the cool evening air, staring down the street as she pondered her path. She didn’t want to walk, but she also didn’t want Beau to come out and find her sulking in the driveway either.

  She left with no clear path in mind, thinking she would make her way over to Spanking Loop, and make the long loop around the community. She was in no hurry to get home anyway, so she might as well go big.

  Exercise was supposed to help refresh her, and clear her mind, but it did just the opposite. Instead she was alone with her thoughts and nothing to distract her from them.

  It was a beautiful evening in late April, but Ginger didn’t notice. She stomped along Spanking Loop, completely unaffected by her surroundings.

  “Why am I so sure a spanking would help? That doesn’t even make sense,” she grumbled out loud to herself. And Beau would surely think I am crazy, if he doesn’t already. He looks at me like I’m broken, and he doesn’t know how to fix me. If I told him spanking would help, at this point, he would prob
ably have me committed, she thought, breathing heavily as she trudged up the steep hill.

  For them, spanking had always been about discipline. While a great many Corbin’s Bend couples used it for stress relief, they never really had. While they both knew from experience that a spanking helped re-set her stress level, it only happened after it was too late and she reached a breaking point that caused her to do or say something that would get her in trouble.

  She was past that point, well past it, and it didn’t even matter, because right now, Beau seemed to see her as being beyond a place of spanking. He didn’t think she was fixable without medication. She could literally say or do whatever she wanted and her husband would just tell her to go for a walk or take a pill.

  The whole thing was infuriating. She didn’t want to be depressed, or to have people see her as weak or fragile. She especially didn’t want Beau to see her any differently, but she knew she was different. She had changed, and no amount of supplements or exercise would really help that. The one thing that had been helping had been taken away from her.

  “Get a grip, Ginger. Come off it, you’re being stupid. You don’t need Beau or Dr. Devon or some psycho therapist to help you. You have never needed anyone before, and you’ve always done just fine, so why start now?” Her mental pep talk did little to improve her attitude. She was not okay.

  Not okay. Not okay. Not okay. The two words became a blinding mantra as she walked, not at all aware of where she was or where she was going. One foot in front of the other. Not okay. Not okay. Not okay. The thought rose in her throat like bile leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Panic swelled in her chest until she could barely breathe. Her arms tingled, and her legs turned to Jello beneath her.

  Crap! Not now! Not now! She looked around, frantically trying to get a grip on her surroundings so she could get help, as she had left in such a hurry her phone was still at home, but her vision blurred, making the already nearly identical homes indistinguishable. She saw nothing but a sea of white clapboard everywhere she turned. The air whizzed around her, buzzing in her ears. She couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate. She turned in circles, frantic, unable to place a single car, or anything recognizable, as if she were in a strange new town instead of at home in Corbin’s Bend.

  Feeling lost and helpless, her eyes clouded with tears, she sank to the cement and laid her head in her hands trying to stop the spinning around her. She didn’t know how long she sat there, trying to block out the buzzing and whirling, riding the waves of nausea, gasping for air with her eyes shut tight against the world.

  She didn’t see the car coming, and the loud blare of the horn barely registered in the recesses of her brain. All she recognized was a feeling of dread and danger, but that was nothing new. It wasn’t until she finally looked up and found herself face to face with a giant piece of shiny metal, that she realized that she was sitting in the middle of the street, and had literally been inches away from becoming roadkill.

  She knew she should get up and get home, or at least out of the road, but she didn’t have the strength. She stared blankly at the seemingly massive bumper and wondered idly if the driver had seen her. Her head hurt. Pain like shards of glass pricked at her eyelids. She just wanted to sleep. Her eyelids dropped shut, suddenly very heavy.

  “Ginger, Ginger, are you all right? What are you doing in the middle of the road? Open your eyes!”

  She forced her eyes open, for only the smallest fraction of time, and found herself staring into the concerned face of Dr. Marcus Devon. “Not again,” she groaned.

  She was mildly aware of being scooped into his arms, and the sensation of floating on air as he carried her to his car. She fought with herself searching for the will to open her eyes, and assure him that she was okay, and that he didn’t need to take her to the clinic or call Beau, but even her subconscious knew that that was useless.

  “I found her sitting in the middle of the road, half conscious. Beau, I almost hit her with my car.”

  “What?” Beau gaped at Marcus, not fully comprehending what his friend was saying. “She went out for a walk, she wasn’t even gone that long! Why would she be sitting in the middle of the road?”

  Marcus sighed. “I’m guessing she had another panic attack. She’s been mostly sleeping on and off since I found her, which just speaks to the stress her body was under. I was able to take her blood pressure which was a little high again. It seems like a pretty severe attack, Beau. I had high hopes that we wouldn’t need to resort to medication, but if the supplements aren’t helping, we need to try a more aggressive course of action.”

  Beau’s face fell. “I’m not sure she’s been taking the supplements, Marcus, I meant to check while she was on her walk, but I didn’t get to it before you called. If I had to wager a guess, I would say no.”

  Dr. Devon just gaped at him, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Beau didn’t blame him. It seemed like the harder he tried these days, the harder he failed.

  Marcus shook his head, his brow furrowed in concern. “Beau, I meant it when I said I didn’t think we were dealing with severe depression here so much as anxiety, but it’s still nothing to mess around with. I get that Ginger is a grown woman, and normally a very capable one, and that I’m asking you to take responsibility for her in a way that you have never needed to before, but if she was capable of making good decisions regarding her health right now, we wouldn’t be here. As her HoH, you really have to take a hard line right now. If she isn’t taking responsibility on her own, you have to step up and get it done.”

  Marcus’ mouth set in a straight line as he crossed his arms across his chest looking more frustrated than Beau had ever seen him look.

  He rubbed his forehead contemplatively. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Marcus, but I just don’t understand how I can take a hard line with her right now. I’m trying as hard as I can to be encouraging, but she barely says two words to me. Without domestic discipline, I have a hard time making her do anything. I will do better at making her take her pills and get exercise, and next time she goes out for a walk, I will go with her, regardless of what she says.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Marcus waved his hand in front of him, as if to say, slow down, back up. “What did you just say?”

  “I will do better at making her take her pills?”

  “No, before that, about spanking. Did you say you’re not practicing right now? I thought we talked about this, about using alternative punishments in place of spanking while she recovered. And,” Marcus continued, “even if we hadn’t, Hazel is five months old. Ginger has had more than enough time to recover.”

  “Well, yeah, she’s physically recovered, but Marcus, just look at her. She’s clearly not operating at full capacity right now. I don’t want to make things worse by pushing her too hard, or making her feel like she has to watch what she says for fear of punishment. I want her to feel like she can express herself freely as she is obviously going through a lot right now.”

  Marcus stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, looking wise beyond his years. “Well, first of all, Beau, there’s a difference between freely expressing yourself and being able to say what you need to say while still being respectful. I see no reason Ginger shouldn’t still be able to behave with a certain level of decorum when speaking her mind. That doesn’t seem like too much to ask of anyone. Second, I hardly see where making her follow doctor’s instructions could be construed as pushing her too hard. You really can’t afford to be lax in these matters, and frankly, I don’t think you’re doing her any favors. Furthermore, as Ginger’s doctor, it is my medical opinion that there is no reason for you to not be practicing at least some form of domestic discipline.”

  Beau deflated. He couldn’t win for losing these days it seemed.

  “I hear you, Marcus, I really do, and I am going to make sure she follows instructions from now on, but as for domestic discipline, I’m just not sure it’s the right thing for us right now.”

&nb
sp; “Uh-huh. And how did you say that was working out for you?”

  Beau gaped at him, slightly taken aback by his friend’s sarcasm which was completely out of character for the kind doctor.

  Marcus quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Beau. Whatever my opinion, that was out of line, and you need to do whatever feels right for the two of you.”

  Beau nodded gravely. “Thank you.”

  Marcus opened the door to the room that held his make-shift clinic. “You can take her home as soon as she wakes up, but make sure she gets in to see Traci as soon as possible.” He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. “And, Beau, it probably wouldn’t hurt for you to find someone to talk to also, and that is my professional opinion.”

  “You’re going to see Traci Jackson first thing Monday morning. I made you an appointment.” Beau was firm.

  Ginger hedged, wanting to argue, as she really didn’t want to go talk to the town therapist, or anyone for that matter.

  “Don’t bother arguing. It’s not up for discussion.” Her husband, it seemed, had mind reading capabilities. So why was he so clueless on the one thing that would really help her, and the one thing she really wanted, which was simply to get back to their new normal. And if that meant a spanking or two, all the better. Of course, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Beau was holding on to his new policy, domestic discipline being off the table, because he seemed to think it would damage her somehow. Couldn’t he see that not having that in her life was what was doing the most damage?

  She sighed, and quietly nodded her agreement. She would go, because he had told her to, and it was the smallest peek into the way things used to be, and the way she wanted them to be, so she would not fight it.

  Beau hadn’t let her out of his sight since he had brought her home Friday night. She should feel suffocated by the way he was hovering over her, but it was just sweet. He had cooked all of her favorite foods, and set up a makeshift bedroom in the living room for them by pulling out the sleeper sofa and setting up Hazel’s play-pen for her to sleep in so they could lay in bed and watch all of their favorite shows all weekend.