by Sydney Allan
"What relationship isn't?"
Frankie wasn't listening. She wasn't saying what Faith wanted to hear--no, needed to hear. "What about his wife? His daughter?"
Frankie let Faith's hands slip free and leaned back again. "Ex-wife. And his daughter likes you. That's obvious."
Faith was restless. She ran her hand through her hair and tangled her fingers in the silky strands. She tugged slightly, the stinging at her scalp feeling good. "This is wrong."
"What's so wrong about it?"
Why didn't Frankie understand? They'd gone over and over it. Hell, she was the one to convince her to help Marian reconcile with Garret. "Everything. His wife wants to reconcile, and I’m their therapist--"
"They've completed the program. They're leaving tomorrow--"
"Marian's been coming to me for art therapy sessions for months. I owe her more than this," Faith continued, interrupting Frankie. "Besides what happened to me helping Marian reconcile with him, remember that?"
With one hand reaching to her purse, which sat on the floor next to her, Frankie shook her head. "Yeah. But that's not going to happen. Anyone who watches those two together can see that." She plucked a battered cigarette case from the depth of her bag and knocked a cigarette free of the cardboard pack. "What are you afraid of? You're digging for excuses." She lit her smoke with a sleek, silver lighter, inhaled, and then with her chin tipped up and face turned to the side, blew another cloud into the air. "You're scared."
"Of what?" The words shot from Faith's mouth. What could she be scared of? Certainly not Garret, or happiness, or love. She wanted all of those things--him--more than anything.
More than her job?
Oh, God. Was Frankie right? Was she hiding from her feelings because they were so powerful, so illogical, they just plain scared the hell out of her? She'd never felt the need to control every aspect of her life. Yet, this chaos was frightening. Not knowing how she felt or what to do… "You're right. I'm scared. There, I admitted it. Are you happy?"
"No. Not if you aren't."
Faith dropped her face into her hands and tried to shield herself from the fears she didn't want to confront, from her confusion--her need to please everyone. She needed to feel appreciated and loved, yet feared the nagging doubts in herself. No matter what decision she made, someone would pay the price, whether it was Garret, or Marian, or Raphaela--even herself. "What am I going to do?"
"Talk to him." Frankie answered solemnly. "Be honest. Tell him how you feel."
"I don't know if I can do that. What if I've just imagined it all? What if--"
"He's a wonderful father, a great guy. You'd better find out. Could you live with yourself if you don't?"
"What if he doesn't feel the same way?"
"What if he does, Faith?"
"I know."
"Besides, he's too damn sexy not to at least try. I bet he's an animal in bed," Frankie added, obviously trying to lighten the mood. Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
"Stop!" Faith said, waving her hands in defeat.
"What would it feel like to have that sexy mouth trailing hot kisses down your throat, over your stomach…? Damn, just the thought of it makes me hot!"
"Are you through?" Faith asked, swallowing a chuckle. To laugh would only encourage her.
"To feel those hands--a doctor's hands--explore my body from head to toe and everything in between…I'd spread chocolate syrup all over those abs and lick them clean." Frankie leaned back in her chair and sighed melodramatically.
Against her will, Faith began to visualize the smooth skin of his stomach, dappled down the center with dark, curly hair. Her body heated instantly, her core yearning for his touch. She'd done it, gone over the brink. Shoved by her best friend, no less.
When she'd gathered herself together, as best she could. She nodded and stood. Of course, Frankie was right. She would always wonder "what if" if she didn't at least talk to him. If she couldn't be honest, couldn't discuss her feelings with him, what sort of relationship would they have, anyway? "Thanks."
"Tell me what happens," Frankie called after her then took a deep drag from her cigarette.
" I will." Faith left the lounge, her mind shooting in dozens of directions, doubts burying hope, fear leeching her resolve. Should she wait? Think about it some more?
A glance down at her watch gave her the answer. She had another client in a half-hour. She would have to wait. Something like this couldn't be rushed.
She dashed toward her studio and paused at the door. The light was still on. Were Garret and Marian still in there? She listened at the closed door, stilling her breath, waiting for a sound from within. Nothing. Finally convinced the room was empty, she opened the door.
"You," Marian said as soon as Faith opened the door. She stepped in front of Faith.
Marian had been waiting for her? Damn! Faith's heart skipped several beats, and nausea gripped her stomach, but she forced her voice to remain steady. "Marian, did you need to speak with me?"
"Do you know what you've done? How could you? I thought you were my friend." Marian's expression sent shards of ice into Faith's heart. All over again, guilt and regret tore at her.
"Marian, I swear, I never meant to hurt you. I've tried to be professional, keep myself at a distance--"
"No, you haven't. It was clear from the start you wanted him for yourself. You want what I have, my husband, my daughter, my life."
Since the first day of camp, Faith had seen Marian's slightly warped sense of possession over Garret. Why hadn't she been more sensitive to that? As a therapist, she owed Marian no less. Garret was free to do what he wished, but out of courtesy and professionalism, Faith didn't share his freedom.
"I don't know where you get that idea. You and Garret are my clients. That's it."
Marian cackled, her face grim. "You think I'm stupid? Don't insult me. I'm not blind. Garret's become a different man, and I know why. It's you. He's in love with you."
Marian's confession stunned Faith. Could it be true? Of course not. "What makes you think that? Garret's not some love-sick kid; he's not the kind of man who's going to fall in love so easily."
"You're right, he's not. And I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself."
"He hasn't said anything, has he?" Her confidence was slipping.
"No, but he doesn't have to. It's so obvious--in his newfound commitment to being communicative, discussing his feelings. How the hell could I miss that? He used to avoid discussing anything more serious than the weather with anyone. Now he's talking about his feelings, for God's sake."
"Maybe Raphaela inspired his change," Faith offered. "Maybe through her he's learning to be more open, more compassionate. It wouldn't be the first time I've seen a child do that for a parent."
"I don't believe that, not for a minute. Why now? Why all of a sudden, after years?"
"Our program teaches people to think differently about their feelings, to acknowledge them without labeling them good or bad, and to share them with others."
"I hate to break it to you, but your program isn't that influential. Not with Garret. No, something else did this."
Faith didn't know if she should be elated, shocked, or appalled. Garret in love with her? It was a tiny bit scary, and very hard to believe--even after what Marian had said. Marian couldn't be objective. She was probably simply jumping to conclusions.
Sure, he'd kissed her, and they'd shared a wonderful afternoon together a couple of days ago. But love?
Faith spoke carefully, each word weighted, measured with caution. "Marian, Garret is not a fanciful teenager. He has more sense than to fall in love with someone in two short weeks."
"You and I both know that, but the truth of the matter is he has. And you've done nothing but encourage him since we arrived."
"That's simply not true. I acted in a professional, but courteous, manner--"
"Courteous, is that what you call kissing him in public--in the middle of the damn street?"
<
br /> Faith's heart leapt into her throat and choked her. How could she respond to that charge without making things worse? For one, it was true.
Marian was near tears, her hands trembling. "I came here to bring Garret closer. You don't know what you've done. He's not right for you." She smiled, and Faith wondered at the unexpected expression. Was Marian manic, deranged? "You don't know him at all. He won't be happy with you. You know that, don't you?"
"What do you mean?" Had someone shut off the air conditioning? It was getting hot.
"I can't blame you for not knowing more about him. You haven't known him long enough. He needs a certain type of woman, a certain type of relationship. If he has less, he's miserable."
"But your marriage failed. I'm not trying to be cruel, but obviously he doesn't need what you think he does." She couldn't believe she'd just said that. Was she starting to believe that Garret was in love with her? Was she starting to hope it was true?
Marian's face flushed. Yet, she spoke slowly. "Are you so selfish you don't care if he's happy or miserable?"
"Of course I care."
"Then listen to me. I'm not lying. I realize my opinion is less than trustworthy, but I can give you the name and phone number of his best friend. He'd tell you the same thing. Garret is an amazing man: responsible, trustworthy, loyal, hardworking, committed. He puts his family first. Always. That is why he will not be happy with you."
Faith nodded. She had seen those traits in him, but how would they determine his misery? Should she believe Marian about any of this? If nothing else, Marian would lie if it meant she might get Garret back, but what about his friend?
Marian continued, "Ella needs him now. And she needs her mother. He knows that, and he won't deny it. If he enters into a new relationship with you, he'll be compelled to give it everything he can, but that'll conflict with his commitment to Ella."
It sounded like a weak argument to Faith. "Surely he's capable of balancing responsibilities. All adults do that."
"True, but you must see that Garret is a tad on the obsessive side, a perfectionist. He can't stretch himself too thin. He suffers from extreme guilt when he tries."
As much as Faith hated to admit it, Marian's argument was beginning to hold a touch of believability. Yet, she didn't know if it was enough to convince her of anything. Still, the issues raised embrangled an already overcomplicated situation.
Should she talk to Garret? Tell him she preferred to be friends? Could she live with that--at least for now? Maybe she should avoid the subject altogether and see if he brings it up.
"You’re a bitch," Marian muttered when Faith didn't speak. "You don't give a damn about what I said, do you?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"Then, will you leave him alone?"
Faith hesitated. She could say yes, just to avoid dragging the conversation out any longer. It had grown tedious, downright exhausting, actually.
But it would be a lie. "No."
"You’re a selfish bitch! Go find a man without a wife and child."
"You are divorced."
"We are reconciling."
"You wish you were reconciling. Be realistic. He has already told you he doesn't want to try again. Maybe I'm not the one being selfish."
"I told you he's going to be miserable, and still you won't give up? And what about Ella? Doesn't she deserve one hundred percent from him?"
She knew what Marian was trying to do, play upon her feelings for Raphaela. "Yes."
"He won't be able to give both of you what you need."
"Yes he can." This was all way ahead of the game. They hadn't decided to have a relationship, for God's sake. Still, she couldn't ignore the possibility. And if it was possible, then she wanted to make sure Marian knew it.
Besides, she didn't need a whole lot from a relationship. Didn't she like a touch of distance? Wasn't a man who was around her all the time suffocating?
She lifted her eyes to Marian's face, whose eyes were bright red, her face washed in tears. Faith cursed herself. She was a bitch. That was no way to talk to anyone, even someone as difficult as Marian.
And with guilt came doubt. If what Marian said was true, was she being selfish? And what about Raphaela? How would she handle it? There were so many questions. Yet, she couldn't retreat. "He's old enough to make his own decisions."
"Yes, of course he's old enough. But he's not thinking logically right now. He's thinking with his hormones, not his head. If you would back off, he'd come to his senses."
Faith swallowed. There was no way to win in this situation, and she was getting tired of trying, even if that meant she would pay an enormous price, more than she'd ever thought she would. "Outside of turning my back to Garret, it doesn't look like anything I do is going to help. Maybe you need to talk to someone else about this problem."
A boulder formed in Faith's throat after she spoke the words. She'd just suggested Marian take her problem to someone else, which could ultimately lead to her dismissal. Realization struck her hard between the eyes. "Would you like to talk to Frankie?" she offered, hoping Marian would concede. At least Frankie wouldn't make more trouble--maybe could even find a way to smooth things over.
"You know, I think that's a great idea. I’ll do as you suggest."
Faith's lungs filled completely for the first time since their conversation began.
"However, I think my first conversation will be with your director…" Marian shoved past her, knocking Faith off balance as she stormed from the room. Faith gripped the doorframe to steady herself, wishing she could steady her emotions as easily.
This was, without a doubt, the worst day of her life. Even if she had learned Garret was in love with her. Sitting, to avoid falling over, she waited for her next session to begin. The clients, Alex and his family, would be there within minutes. She tried to soothe her frayed nerves and stop the trembling of her hands.
Would this be the last art therapy session she held at Mountain Rise?
Immediately following her session with the family, which went well, despite her distraction, the expected summons to Angela Murphy's office came. She simply nodded, when the intern, Jesse, told her in his deep voice that she was needed at the director's office. She resolved to accept her boss' decision with quiet calm.
Yes, she loved her work at Mountain Rise, loved the fact that she touched so many families--families who really needed it. She'd only worked for one session, but she knew without any doubt she would have been happy working there for many more years.
She was prepared for the worst.
Walking solemnly down the corridor to Mrs. Murphy's office, she struggled to contain the pounding in her chest and the jumpy nerves running down her limbs. She'd never been good at conflict, never handled criticism well. Yet, in the past two weeks, she'd been forced to take more of both than she'd managed to dodge the rest of her life.
And she'd done okay.
Maybe not perfect, but certainly better than she believed she could.
Chapter Twelve
Faith knocked on her boss's door and fought the urge to bolt, to run to her office, pack her bags, and leave for good.
The voice inside responded, "Come in." No secretary to screen her visitors, the camp's director maintained an open-door policy for both staff and patients. Faith felt a tiny niggle of relief that no secretary would be there to witness her being fired and spread rumors.
She opened the door, and immediately looked to Mrs. Murphy's face for some sign of what was to come. The woman's expression was grave. That couldn't be good.
"Faith, please have a seat," the director said, a middle-aged woman who normally possessed an extraordinarily cheerful demeanor, now turned unmistakably morose. She motioned toward the chair in front of her desk.
Faith hesitated then took a seat in the leather armchair, wishing it would swallow her up and carry her away. She waited.
"There has been a complaint," her boss said softly as her eyes scanned Faith's face. "A serious complaint
. Are you aware of it?"
Faith nodded in answer to her boss' question. "Yes, I’m aware of Mrs. Damiani's complaint."
"Would you like to explain to me what happened?"
"What did Mrs. Damiani tell you?" she asked, a million possible responses whirling through her head. Should she even bother explaining?
"Mrs. Damiani says you have intentionally undermined her efforts to both reconcile with her ex-husband, and strengthen her relationship with her daughter. She further claims you have been physically intimate with Mr. Damiani."
The words hammered at Faith's guilt. In a way, she could understand how Marian felt. It sure looked as though she'd done everything Marian asserted--except the last. And if she were honest with herself, she would admit she'd thought plenty about that as well, she just hadn't been given the opportunity to actually do it. "It's not exactly as Mrs. Damiani said," she started, but then couldn't finish.
"So she is lying?"
"Not exactly lying. More jumping to conclusions."
Her boss leaned forward and with her gaze scouring Faith's face, said, "These are very serious charges. We cannot have this sort of thing here. Mountain Rise is subject to more than its share of criticism by the medical community, without the added ammunition of unprofessional behavior."
"I understand."
"We must not make it easier for the critics to find fault. Think of how many children we might fail to reach if we lose our credibility."
"You're right. I understand completely. But I did not sleep with him, and I did not try to undermine her efforts to reconcile with him. I tried to help her."
"She claims she has some photographs."
"Of what?" Faith asked, knowing that sort of thing could be taken out of context and made to appear much worse than it actually was. She wondered if Marian had shown them to Mrs. Murphy. She wondered how she'd gotten them from Steven.
"You and Dr. Damiani in Cooperstown, holding hands, kissing in broad daylight. I saw them."
"Oh." What more was there to say? She couldn't deny she had done those things. Marian must have suspected something all along, maybe even hired Steven to tail them. She'd never been the other woman, never had someone follow her, photograph her. It was creepy, unsettling.