by Deanna Chase
Abby let out a gasp and clasped her hand over her mouth. Hot tears fell down her cheeks and with each beat of her heart, pain radiated through her.
Doctor Kass squeezed Abby’s hand, passed her a box of tissues, and gave her a moment to compose herself before she let go.
“Thanks,” Abby said, dabbing at her eyes.
“It’s tough to say things out loud, especially if we’re voicing our fears.”
Abby sat back in the chair, her body heavy with fatigue. “It’s not my fears. It’s the truth. Don’t you see that?”
“Can’t it be both?” Kass asked without judgment.
Abby opened her mouth to answer but closed it when she didn’t know what to say. Was the therapist agreeing with her? That Charlotte’s death had been her fault? That pit in her stomach grew, and she pressed her palm to her abdomen, trying to block out the sensation.
“Let’s move on from that for just a minute.”
“Sure,” Abby said, recognizing anything else they talked about couldn’t be worse.
“Have you used your magic at all since Charlotte’s death? Or is it just the healing potions you have trouble with?”
“I make lotions and soaps. They require a touch of magic, but nothing too intense. Not like the potions I made. They’re easy and second nature at this point.”
“So your magic isn’t broken necessarily.” It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just broken,” Abby said quietly.
“Is that what you think?”
Abby wanted to scream. Of course that’s what she thought. She’d just said it hadn’t she? But she bit back her rage and said, “I think it’s possible.”
“Which part?”
“What do you mean which part? My magic. It’s broken. I stopped using it, so it gave up on me.”
Doctor Kass blinked and crossed one leg over the other as she leaned back. “But you didn’t stop using it. Besides, magic doesn’t work that way. It’s not there one day and gone the next. It lives inside you. Whatever was there before is still there. You might just need to learn a new way to access it.”
“This isn’t helping,” Abby said, frustration taking over. “Can’t you just give me something for anxiety or something? Maybe then I could relax and figure out what I’m doing wrong.”
“Do you feel overly anxious? Panicked at interacting with the world?”
Abby gritted her teeth. “Not usually.”
Doctor Kass gave her a patient smile. “Then I doubt anxiety drugs will do you any good. If anything, they will only numb your magic more. How about we try something different? Something like affirmations.”
“Affirmations? You mean you want me to talk to myself?” Abby’s shoulders slumped. While Doctor Kass was a thousand times more palatable than her previous therapist, this wasn’t what she was expecting. She could’ve gotten this advice out of any number of self-help books.
“Yes. I’d like you to write out five different things; two experiences you’re grateful for, two you forgive yourself for, and one you look forward to. Be specific. Say them out loud each day when you wake up and before you go to sleep. Try it for a week, and we’ll see where you are when you come back in.”
“That’s it?” Abby asked.
“I think that’s plenty for one visit.” She glanced at the clock, indicating an hour had already gone by.
Abby blinked. How was that possible? She felt like they’d just gotten started.
“We’ve already made a great start. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Doctor Kass smiled and stood up, holding her hand out to Abby. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too,” Abby said, a little shell shocked that she’d shared as much as she had and that she hadn’t been itching to get up and leave the entire time. Maybe there was something to this therapy thing after all.
Chapter 23
Clay paced his hotel room, his third cup of coffee in one hand, his phone in the other. Lorna had just called to inform him that while the court order for Val’s temporary custody was legal, there were questions surrounding the judge who’d signed off on the order. She’d just learned through a colleague that Valerie had been seen out with him on various occasions. There was speculation of an affair.
“Affair?” he bellowed into the phone. “This is how the legal system works? Can’t we do anything about it?”
“There’s not much we can do unless we can find someone to testify that they know each other and are having a relationship. Most lawyers don’t want to get on the bad side of a judge for fear it will hobble them in future cases.”
“Son of a…” He squeezed the phone so hard his fingers started to go numb.
“I know it’s beyond frustrating, Clay, but if we can find any evidence of the connection, it will help with the ongoing custody battle. So keep an eye out for anything, all right?”
“Fine. How long until we can get back into court?”
“I’m filing an appeal today. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Hopefully we can get in to see a judge by tomorrow.”
“Work your magic,” he said.
She let out a humorless chuckle. “You can bet your butt I will. Hang tough. We’ll get this fixed.”
After he ended the call, Clay sat at the end of the bed and glanced at his messages yet again. Nothing other than the one from Abby absolving him from standing her up the night before. When Lorna had arrived at his house, she’d taken a look at the court order and advised him to release Olive into Val’s custody. She’d convinced him it was the best move going forward in the custody battle. But Olive had been so upset, he hadn’t been able to just hand her off. He’d decided to come along to L.A. to make sure he was nearby should she need him. Valerie, who’d been overwhelmed by Olive’s temper tantrum, had reluctantly agreed after Clay had been the only one who could calm her down.
Of course Val hadn’t agreed to let Clay stay at her apartment, not that he’d wanted to other than to be near his daughter. So now he was in a hotel five blocks away, waiting for Valerie to text him regarding their plans for the day. He’d overheard her talking to her agent about an audition and had insisted he be allowed to tag along. Val had given a vague answer, but when Clay pressed her, she’d finally agreed. But so far he’d heard nothing from her since he’d gotten into his cab at the airport last night.
Unable to wait it out, he called Valerie.
“Where is she?” his ex yelled into the phone.
“Where’s who? Olive?” he asked.
“Yes, Olive. Who else would I be talking about? I was just getting ready to call you. Did you pick her up? Are you outside? You need to get her back in here right away. Our audition is in less than five minutes.”
“Wait a minute, Val. Are you saying Olive isn’t with you?” His heart started to race, and sweat broke out on the back of his neck. This couldn’t be happening. His little girl was not somewhere in Hollywood all by herself.
“No. She isn’t. She’s with you,” Valerie said impatiently. “Stop playing dumb, Clay. It isn’t going to go over well in court.”
“Valerie, listen to me. I have not seen Olive since last night at the airport. I’ve been waiting all morning for you to call me. Are you saying you’re at some audition and Olive went missing?” Clay grabbed his wallet and room key off the dresser and strode out the door.
“Yes, we’re at an audition—wait, Olive isn’t with you?” A hint of panic radiated in her voice.
“No, she isn’t. Where are you? I’m getting a cab right now.”
“But she said… oh my god, Clay. Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” he said through clenched teeth. “She was in your care.” He got into the elevator and nodded to the older woman who was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Where are you exactly?”
She gave him an address in Studio City. Two minutes later, he was in a cab and headed her way.
Clay spent the entire cab ride trying to reach Olive on the phone he’d given her just si
x months ago so he could reach her when she was with her mother, but each time he called, it went straight to voicemail.
“Damn,” he muttered. The phone was dead. Either Valerie had turned the phone off or the battery was dead.
The moment the cab came to a stop, Clay tossed a wad of bills at the driver, jumped out, and started running toward the building. Before he could get to the front door, Valerie strode out, her hair curled and piled on top of her head. She had heavy make up on and wore a formfitting dress that was so low cut he was sure she had to be using double-sided tape just to keep from having a wardrobe malfunction.
“Clay!” she cried and flung herself into his arms.
He patted her back awkwardly, and after a moment he grabbed her waist and forced her to step back. “When’s the last time you saw her?”
“About an hour and twenty minutes ago. We’d just—”
“An hour and twenty minutes? What the hell were you doing when you were supposed to be watching our daughter?” He felt the heat crawling up his neck and he had to stop himself from throttling her.
“I had a meeting with my agent. Don’t you go blaming this on me, Clay Garrison. If you’d just gotten on board with the acting thing in the first place, Olive never would’ve run off.”
Shock rendered him speechless. He shook his head, truly dumbfounded. He did not have the time or the will to have this fight with her. The only thing that mattered was finding his daughter. “Where is the last place you saw her?”
“In the waiting room. I told her to sit quietly while Manny and I had our meeting. She was in the corner near the television when Manny and I went into his office.”
“You left an eight-year-old alone in a strange office building in the middle of L.A.?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Clay. It’s Studio City, not the ghetto.”
“She’s eight years old!” he yelled and brushed past her into the building. Valerie rushed to catch up with him, but she was wearing five inch stilettos and unable to keep up with his long strides.
“Olive?” he called as he tore down the plush hallway. He followed the signs for the open audition call and finally came to a room packed with women and their daughters. He started asking around about Olive but soon realized he didn’t even know what she was wearing. He spun around and went in search of Valerie. She’d taken her heels off and was hobbling back to the waiting area. “Ask everyone in that room if they’ve seen Olive. You remember what she was wearing, right?”
“Of course I do,” she said, clearly offended. “She’s wearing a pink dress with little white rosettes at the bottom. And matching pink Mary Jane shoes.”
Clay refrained from rolling his eyes but couldn’t stifle the groan. “She was okay with that?”
“It was for the audition, Clay. How many times do I have to explain to you why I dress her the way I do?”
“I don’t know, Val. I guess every time you try to explain to me why you’re forcing her to do something she doesn’t like to do.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and he could see that she was gearing up to lecture him once again on the opportunities she’d have as a working actor. But he didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not ever again. He held up a hand. “I’m going to check the grounds and see if she’s outside. You go back in that room and talk to everyone until you find someone who saw her leave. Got it?”
“Fine. I’ll text you if find out anything.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously.
“You do that.” He started to walk away, but Val called out, stopping him. “What?” he asked.
“Find my baby, Clay. Please,” she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.
“There’s no question about that,” he said tersely and silently cursed her. This was her fault, and once he found Olive, he was going to make sure the entire legal community knew about it. As he made his way back outside, he called the Studio City police station. When the woman on the other end answered, he said, “I need to report a missing child.”
He gave her all the information he had and was told an officer was being dispatched. Clay ended the call and tried Olive one more time. Still no answer. His insides churned as he circled the office building then the city block. He texted Val to see if she had news. She didn’t. A couple of people remembered seeing Olive but didn’t know when she’d left.
Panic started to overtake Clay as he rushed from business to business. She wasn’t at the convenience store, the laundry mat, the nail salon, or the women’s boutique. He rounded the corner and spotted a small city park.
He knew instinctively if she was anywhere, that’s where he’d find her. His girl was an earth witch, just like her father. If she needed to get away from the auditions or her mother, the one place that would help her feel better was the park. He dodged two oncoming cars as he ran across the street and entered the wrought-iron gates. To the left was a small bonsai garden and to the right there were roses. He chose to head toward the bonsais. She’d been fascinated by the small trees ever since her grandmother had gotten her one for Christmas the year before.
The further Clay got into the park, the more certain he was that she was there. It was as if he could feel her presence.
“Olive!” he called out. No reply. He moved deeper into the park and tried again. Still nothing. He stuck to the path, and when he came to a foot bridge that crossed a small stream, he paused. “Olive?” he called again, only this time he barely raised his voice.
A whimper sounded from somewhere beneath the bridge.
“Olive!” He jumped down onto the muddy bank and sure enough, there was his daughter, dressed in a pale pink dress, huddled underneath the bridge, tears and mud staining her cheeks. He reached down and snatched her up, hugging her tightly to him. She had mud all over her dress and on her arms and legs, but he didn’t care. He’d found her, safe and sound. Nothing else mattered.
“Daddy,” she sobbed into his shoulder.
He pressed a hand to the back of her head and stroked her wild curls. “I’m here, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Don’t make me go back. Please, Daddy. I don’t want to do the commercial.”
“You don’t have to, Olive. I promise. No more acting,” he soothed, praying there was something he could do to stop Valerie and her insane insistence that her daughter be an actress.
“I want to go home.”
“I know, love. I know.” Still carrying her, he climbed back up onto the path and made his way to a metal bench. Once he was seated with her on his lap, he took out his phone and sent Val a short text to let her know Olive was safe and in his care. She sent a message right back demanding to know where they were. He ignored her. A second later, she typed out something about still being able to audition. Every muscle in Clay’s body ached to throw the phone into the stream, but instead, he shoved it into his pocket and turned his attention to Olive. “What happened?” he asked gently. “Why did you run off?”
Her bottom lip quivered as she shook her head. “I didn’t want to audition.”
He brushed one of her curls out of her eyes and nodded. “I know. But did anything specific happen?”
She shrugged. “I told Mommy I wanted to go home, and she yelled at me, told me I had to do this for her.”
“I’m sorry, Olive. I know this isn’t your choice.” He wanted to rage and throw Val under the bus, but he did everything he could to keep his temper in check. He didn’t want to be the cause of their failed relationship. Val was still Olive’s mother and always would be. “But you can’t just run off like that. It’s not safe. I was really worried.”
“I tried to call, but my phone wouldn’t work.” She pulled it out of a hidden pocket in her pink dress and handed it to him.
Sure enough, the battery was dead. His phone started buzzing and one glance at Val’s name made him grimace. “Come on. Your mama is worried too.”
Olive buried her head in Clay’s shoulder again, but her body had stopped
shaking. He hoped that meant the tears had stopped, too.
Clay carried her back to the office building and wasn’t surprised to see the blue flashing lights out front when they rounded the corner. He had to give them credit for wasting no time following up. He’d just about reached the first cop car when Valerie spotted them and let out a cry of relief.
“Olive! Ohmigod, baby, are you okay?” She tried to pull Olive out of Clay’s arms, but Olive only clung tighter to Clay and shook her head violently.
“I’m not going with you. I hate you. And I hate that man!”
“Man?” Clay’s eyebrows rose in question as all his defenses for his daughter went on high alert.
“That man.” Olive pointed to a tall, very tanned man with salt and pepper hair. He was wearing an expensive suit and talking to one of the officers.
“What don’t you like about him?” Clay asked.
“He’s Mommy’s new boyfriend, and he doesn’t like kids.”
“Boyfriend?” A woman with a high-pitched voice cried from behind them. “You must be mistaken. That’s my husband, the Honorable Peter Mathis.”
Clay recognized that name from the court order Val had brought him the night before and called Lorna immediately.
Chapter 24
Abby lay in bed staring up at her ceiling. It had been exactly nine days since she’d last seen Clay. She was surprised by how much she missed him. They hadn’t even gone out on a real date, but that hadn’t stopped her from falling for him all over again. Ever since she’d driven back into town, he’d been the friend she’d needed. He’d made her heart flutter, her pulse quicken, and when she wasn’t swooning over him, he’d calmed her, made her feel comfortable in her own skin again. Comfortable in Keating Hollow.