I grunted acknowledgement and offered her my lighter, flicking it and cupping my hand around the flame. She set her smoke alight then gave me a nod as she sidled over to the railing a few steps away.
“So,” I began after lighting my own. “How is she?”
“Disturbed,” she replied succinctly.
“No offense, but I think I already had that nailed down,” I replied. “The question is, how disturbed?”
“Enough to warrant concern, but not enough for you to get yourself overly worked up.”
“You’re being ambiguous, Helen.”
“Yes, I know I am. Unfortunately, Rowan, I know of no other way to put it. Your wife is a very strong individual, however, for a period of time early this morning she truly believed that she had murdered you. The simple thought that she could be capable of such an act has affected her very deeply.”
“She isn’t,” I objected. “Her body was being used by a spirit. Hell, she wasn’t even in it.”
“She is aware of that, Rowan,” Helen explained. “However, our psyches are inextricably connected with our bodies. We are what we see and perceive ourselves to be. It is one of the things that sets us apart from other animals—the ability to look in a mirror and recognize ourselves. To be self-aware. In Felicity’s mind, whether she was in control or not, it was her body that was inflicting the harm, and therefore it is she who is ultimately responsible.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“For you, perhaps, but you must understand that even though you have been through your own tribulations, you have not directly experienced that which she faced. You might well think differently if you were to switch places with her.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know about that.”
“Believe me, this is not something we need debate at this time. It is nothing more than speculation at best. The tables cannot be turned. The events simply are what they are. And, because of them, at this moment in time your wife is quite a bit more fragile than you are accustomed to seeing her.”
“Okay, no debate. But, is she going to be okay?”
“Yes, eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“The amount of healing she requires doesn’t occur overnight, Rowan,” she offered, then shifted slightly and cocked her head to the side in a thoughtful pose. After a moment she continued, “Now, I am certainly no expert on this possession phenomenon…”
“It really happened, Helen,” I interrupted.
“I am not doubting that. Please, let me finish. As I said, I am no expert on the subject, however, I suspect from what you have told me about it that such an event, especially when it comes in such an unexpected manner, is truly at the root of the issue. When combined with the physical demands and the apparent literal separation of the Id from the individual, I can only surmise that the primary psychological fallout begins there. Her actions while possessed are rising to the surface as horrors for her, however, the trigger is the feeling of disassociation.”
“Acting as a horse for a Lwa takes some getting used to, as I understand it,” I said with a nod.
“I think that would be putting it mildly, Rowan.”
“Yeah, well I suppose I’m trying not to think about it too hard right now.”
“I can understand that, however, on top of the mild hysteria over knowing she severely harmed you, Felicity is exhibiting the classic symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Many of the emotions she described over the past hour when recounting this most recent event readily associate to the same feelings she experienced after the first possession.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. “That only stands to reason, right?”
“Yes, Rowan, however what I am trying to say is that in her case the effects are obviously cumulative, and I am not at all surprised. One either faces a severe stressor that triggers the PTSD, or the anxiety and negative experiences build up until the individual can no longer tolerate them. Felicity falls into that second category. Simply look at everything the woman has been through in the past few weeks. The fact is, I am truly amazed that she held up as well as she has.”
I waited a moment then gave her a nod. “Yeah, well like you said. She’s got one hell of a strong will.”
“Fortunately, yes,” she agreed. “For the both of you.”
“Another issue that seems to be weighing on her heavily is something with regard to a sister. Are you able to shed any light on that?”
“Just that she doesn’t have one that I know of.”
“Yes, she said that she did not, but then she would always come back to an issue about a sister. She was never very clear on the point.”
My brain kicked in and cut through the fog of the most recent events, bringing our conversation with Ben back around to the forefront.
“You know, I guess it might have something to do with the DNA tests,” I said. “Your brother mentioned that when they got the samples that actually cleared her of the crime, the tests came out so close that the lab believes the actual killer to be a sibling.”
“Interesting.”
I nodded. “That’s one word for it.”
“Well, something about that has definitely struck a chord for her.”
“Wish I could help you on that, but when Ben mentioned it she was adamant about not having a sister.”
“I will take your word for it, however, I think a talk with her parents may be in order.”
“I can give you their number, but as you know, I’m not high on their list, so you’ll be on your own.”
“I am sure I can appeal to them without bringing you into it.”
A short lull fell between us as we both took a moment to digest the conversation.
“Okay, so what do I do now?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. “Do I bring her in to see you every day? Twice a day? Set up housekeeping for you in our guest room? Take her on a vacation in the Bahamas? What? Just tell me and it’s done.”
“That is part of what I came out here to speak with you about, Rowan,” she replied, extracting a fresh cigarette and lighting it from the dying ember of her previous smoke.
“Okay, shoot.”
She exhaled a thoughtful sigh as she stared out at the sparse wisps of clouds on the horizon. Her breath steamed on the crisp air, and the silence that fell between us was almost painful. I lit a fresh cigarette myself—using the task to fill the glaring void she was leaving. I could tell that for once, Helen wasn’t simply taking time choosing her words; she seemed to be at a total loss for them.
Finally, I could wait no longer. “Helen?” I queried. “What is it?”
She gave in to my question and turned toward me. I took an immediate dislike to the expression she was wearing.
“I am afraid there is simply no other way to say this to you, Rowan,” she finally said. “Felicity has elected to have herself voluntarily committed to a psychiatric hospital for evaluation.”
“She what?” I stammered. “And you didn’t try to talk her out of it?”
“No, Rowan,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Actually, I am the one who suggested it.”
CHAPTER 29:
“I’m still not sure how I feel about this, honey,” I said as I switched off the truck’s engine then sat back in my seat.
I left the keys dangling from the ignition. It was a conscious move, driven by a subconscious hope that my wife would change her mind, and I would be able to simply restart the vehicle and head for home.
Of course, I already knew I wasn’t going to get my wish, but that wasn’t going to stop me from trying. I tilted my head up and absently inspected the headliner because I knew looking at Felicity was just going to make my heart ache even more than it already did.
“I know,” she replied, voice flat and soft. “But, it’s for the best.”
“I hope you’re right,” I answered, giving up and turning my face toward her. She didn’t meet my gaze, instead leaving her eyes directed out the passenger side window. I exhale
d heavily and added, “You know, you were just locked up in one institution, and now here you are going into another. I don’t see how that’s for the best.”
“This is different,” she replied. “I’m doing it voluntarily.”
“Yeah, and that’s what makes it even more disconcerting. You’re walking out of one cell and right into another, all of your own accord.”
“This is a hospital, Rowan, not a prison.”
“Yeah, I know it is. But it’s the kind with padded walls, locked doors, and grim-faced nurses named after hand tools.”
My attempt at bringing levity to the situation fell flat, even for me.
After a moment she offered, “My insurance will cover part of…”
“Gods, Felicity!” I cut her off, shaking my head as my voice rose slightly. “That isn’t my point! It’s not the money, you know that. I’ll spend whatever it takes.”
She remained silent.
I closed my eyes and reached up to rub my forehead as I let out an embarrassed sigh. I hadn’t exactly lashed out at her, but I knew my tone had been far less than patient.
“I’m sorry,” I almost whispered.
“It’s okay,” she replied. “I know you’re stressed out too.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Maybe I need to check in with you.”
I looked at the clock on the dash, and it read a little past one in the afternoon.
“You know,” I said. “Technically, you’re supposed to be at your parent’s house in less than an hour for Thanksgiving dinner. Your brother is in town for it and everything.”
“Aye, we are supposed to be there. Not just me.”
“Well, I figured after everything that’s happened between your father and me…” I left the rest of the sentence unspoken.
She shook her head gently. “No. I spoke to my mother about that. You were expected too.”
“Okay,” I replied with a shrug. “Then what are we doing here now? Why don’t we go get cleaned up and have dinner? Maybe you’ll feel better after…”
“No, Rowan.”
“You’re going to miss Thanksgiving dinner? With the O’Brien clan all together under one roof for a change?”
“It’s not all of them, you know that.”
“Well, immediate family…and Austin is there. That’s kind of a big deal unless I misunderstood.”
“I know that, and yes it is. But, I’ve no choice in the matter.”
“So, you’re telling me you can’t at least put this off until tomorrow?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Well, I don’t get it.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“Honestly, I still don’t understand why you just can’t see Helen on a daily basis for a while.”
“Because that won’t do.”
“So, how is seeing her here instead of at her office going to be any different?”
“The hospital will be safe.”
“Her office isn’t?”
“It’s not her office I’m worried about.”
“You don’t feel safe with me?”
“Aye, I do,” she whispered. “But you don’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit, honey, that wasn’t a nothing sort of comment. What are you trying to say?”
She sighed. I knew she was tired and still feeling the effects of the tranquilizer Helen had given her a couple of hours before. I hated to press her, but she was talking in circles just like she had when she was being held at the Justice Center. I could tell the wheels were in motion beneath her fiery mane, I just didn’t know what it was that had them spinning so fiercely.
“Think about what I did to you last night,” she finally said.
“We’ve already established that you didn’t…”
“Aye, I know,” she interrupted. “Miranda did it, not me. You say that, but you also know Miranda was inside me. Controlling me. And, this wasn’t the first time.”
“Yeah, and your point?”
“You’re afraid she could do it again. So am I.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m afraid…”
“You are. I can feel it.”
“Okay, so maybe a little, but that’s my problem.”
“No, it’s our problem.”
“You know, I’m working really hard on making it not happen again.”
“I know you are, but until we’re certain it won’t, you would be safer without me around.”
“Dammit, Felicity, that’s a load of crap and you know it.”
“No, Rowan, it isn’t, and you know it.”
“Felicity…”
“No. Stop it. You know I’m right about this.”
“So, what if you are? What am I supposed to do, honey? Come out here daily and play Parcheesi with you in the rec room?”
“You could,” she said with a nod. Then, for the first time during the entire drive here, she looked over at me. “But, I’d much rather you do something more constructive with your time.”
“And what’s that?”
“Find her,” she choked, her voice starting to crack as her eyes moistened with fresh tears. “Find Miranda and make her leave me alone.”
* * * * *
“No, Maggie, just slow down for a minute and listen to me,” I said into my cell phone, trying to stay calm while making my voice as stern as I could without losing control. “No one has been hurt. It’s a psychiatric hospital.”
Of course, I was lying about no one being hurt, but since it was only me, I doubt it would have mattered. Besides, that wasn’t something she needed to know about anyway.
I had spent several minutes laying out the story in my head, selectively removing unnecessary details, before making the call to tell my wife’s family we wouldn’t be making it to the gala holiday dinner. I hadn’t even been able to get half of it out yet, and we’d been on the phone for almost ten minutes.
I listened for a moment as she gibbered excitedly on the other end, asking a mouthful of questions while not bothering to stop long enough for me to answer even one. I had been slowly pacing along a six foot or so stretch of the waiting area during the call, just to work off the nervous energy, but now I was feeling tired all over again. I stopped mid-step and planted myself on a plastic chair, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees then I closed my eyes as I continued to listen.
When she finally stopped to take a breath I said, “Your daughter is not insane, Maggie, no one is saying that. Helen told me it looks like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”
She immediately asked, “Who is Helen?”
“Her doctor,” I replied. “Doctor Helen Storm. It just happens that she’s also a good friend of ours, so I tend not to be overly formal.”
I could hear Shamus in the background, cursing and making demands. He wasn’t helping my mood at all, but at least it was Maggie doing the actual talking. She was a far cry from being a fan of mine herself, however, she always went out of her way to remain civil and try to tolerate the “damned and hell bound son-in-law”, which was more than I could say for her husband. In my book, whether she hated me or not, she still showed me a graceful courtesy and I appreciated it.
“What is her room number, Rowan?” she asked.
“One twenty-one,” I replied. “But she’s not in there yet.”
“Why not?”
“Paperwork and the like,” I said, shrugging out of reflex. “They’re supposed to get her settled in pretty soon though. They gave me a list of what she’s allowed to have, so once she’s in the room for a bit I’m going to run home and pack some things for her because we came straight here from Helen’s office.”
“Why? Why is this happening so suddenly?”
“It’s a long story, Maggie. All I can…”
My sentence was interrupted by a click, and the phone suddenly adopted a hollow tone that told me an extension had just been taken off hook. Confirming my suspicion, a fresh and much less plea
sant voice joined the conversation.
“Aye, what have you done to her now?!” Shamus barked.
“I’m not going to argue with you today, Shamus,” I replied.
“Shamus William O’Brien!” Maggie barked, then her voice grew slightly distant as she pulled away from the mouthpiece on the phone. I could still make out enough of the one-sided conversation to discern the fact that she was calling for Austin to go occupy his father.
A moment or two later, some muted voices and a few curses filled the earpiece but were finally silenced by a second click as the extension was hung up.
“I apologize for that, Rowan,” Maggie said. “Please understand that he is concerned for Felicity.”
“Yeah, Maggie,” I replied, surprising myself at being able to remain unruffled. “I know he is. So am I.”
She paused for a moment then said, “I’ll get Shamus calmed down, and we’ll be there a little later. Is there anything we can bring her, or anything else we can do?”
I dropped my forehead into my hand and sighed. I really wasn’t relishing the thought of dealing with the family face to face given this new turn of events. However, I couldn’t very well tell them not to visit their daughter. Something like that would definitely give my father-in-law a fresh load of ammunition.
“I can’t think of anything,” I said. “But I’m sure she’d love to see you.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“No, Maggie, I’m fine. As I can be under the circumstances, anyway.”
“Have you eaten?” she pressed.
“Not yet, but I’ll grab something later.”
“Nonsense,” she replied. “I’ll bring you a plate.”
“You don’t have to do that, Maggie.”
“I know I don’t have to, Rowan. I want to.”
I wasn’t going to argue. My mother-in-law was a fantastic cook, and now that it had been mentioned, I took notice that my stomach was actually grumbling.
“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
“Do you think they will let me bring a plate for Felicity as well, then?”
All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 28