He pulled back, holding her in place when she sought to fix her mouth on his again.
Opening her eyes, she stared up at his face. His mouth was tight, eyes narrowed. “I can’t kiss you here the way I want to,” he ground out. “Please don’t tempt me.”
Feeling a little wicked, she gave an experimental tug to see if he’d let go of her head. He didn’t, and she winced at the small bite of pain that made the ache inside her intensify. He released her, checking his watch. “If I had more time…”
If they had more time, she might end up in his lap, grinding against him. Seok held out his hand and she took it. His fingers pressed against the back of her hand, and his thumb traced a pattern along hers, rubbing gently against the skin and then circling her knuckle, making her shiver.
“Cold?” He stared down at her with a smug look.
Jerking her hand away from his, she crossed her arms. “Fine.” She jammed her thumb against the walk button.
“Nora.”
She ignored him. Sexy, hand-holding, dirty-minded, black-eyed…
“Nora.”
The walk sign blinked, and she bit her lip to keep from smiling before taking a step into the street.
“Nora.” This time his voice held a warning. When she still didn’t answer, he swept up into his arms.
A bunch of cars honked at them, voices calling out, “Nice! Get her man! Kiss her!”
She looked up to catch him smiling at her. “Happy now?”
She nuzzled into his neck, giving him a quick little suck and kiss against his skin. He inhaled, and someone else yelled, “Do it!”
Rolling his eyes, he let her down once they reached the sidewalk.
“If you are upset, tell me. Don’t ignore me.”
“I was punishing you.”
“For not shoving my hand into your pants in the park?” He raised an eyebrow.
“No!” She covered her face with her hands.
“I can’t hear you.” He attempted to pry her hands away from her face.
“For the finger thing you were doing when you held my hand. Teasing.”
“Oh! You didn’t like that? I thought when you shivered…”
“I did!” she answered quickly, glancing around to see if anyone overheard them, but they were alone on the street. “It just, it got me worked up, and you looked so full of yourself.”
He crossed his arms and stepped back.
“There!” She pointed. “There’s the look!”
“What look?” He pressed his hands against his chest in mock innocence.
“You’re the worst.” She rolled her eyes. The counseling center was two houses away.
After jogging to catch up, he walked backward to watch her face. “I think if I was the worst, then you would not be so worked up over my handholding skills.”
“Well, it wasn’t nice.”
“I think it was very nice.”
“Oh my God.” She threw her hands in the air. “You are such a guy right now!”
“Nora?” It was Dr. Murray. He held the door to the counseling center open. “I’ve been watching for you. The door locks automatically when it shuts. Are you ready?”
“Sure.” All of her good feelings disappeared. It was like she and Seok never kissed and never teased. She’d been relaxed and happy, and now, all at once, she was nervous and tense.
“Do you want to wait?” Dr. Murray stared at Seok over her shoulder. “Or do you want to come back? It will be at least two hours.”
Her stomach dropped. When she met Seok’s eyes, he seemed to be asking her what he should do. What she wanted was for him to stay, but she also didn’t want him giving up hours of his day when he could take a nap or work in his shop. “Meet me back here?”
“I can bring you home,” Dr. Murray offered.
“I’ll be back.” He looked at his watch. “Two hours. I’ll be here.”
She nodded, giving him a small wave before she followed Dr. Murray inside.
“Your sweatshirt?” he asked, holding out a hand.
From where she stood unzipping her sweater, she could see Seok hesitating on the sidewalk. Shaking his head, he stared at the house for another moment before turning on his heel and striding away.
Nora peeled the sweatshirt off her shoulders and handed it to Dr. Murray.
“Ready?”
No.
* * *
The counseling center was designed to look like someone’s house. The only thing giving away its real purpose was a receptionist’s desk sitting unobtrusively near a window. There was a small kitchenette toward the back of the house, and near her, a set of stairs.
“Offices are on the second floor.” He indicated. “Can I get you something first? Water?”
“Please.” She nodded, her throat dry.
The hallway leading to the kitchen was lined with framed photographs and portraits of the original building. There were black and white photos of the house when it was still a private residence, more recent photographs of the building in various states of repair, and a small painting of the house as it stood now.
“It’s on the ghost tours, too,” Dr. Murray called over his shoulder.
She shuddered. Even though it was an obvious attempt to put her at ease, her skin erupted in goosebumps. Lingering in the hall, she admired a small sepia-toned photograph showing a family on the outside stoop.
“That’s Anna Smith.” He handed her a small bottle of water. “She turned the house into a tea room after her husband died.”
Uncapping the water gave her a moment to gather her thoughts. “Oh,” she remarked, taking a small sip.
A light touch on her shoulder encouraged her to turn toward him. “I know you’re nervous, Nora. I get it. I really do.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”
She wanted to drag her feet, but she didn’t. She squared her shoulders and followed him to the second floor. Pausing in front of the first door, he waited for her to enter, then nudged a round, white object into the hallway and closed the door.
“It’s a sound conditioner,” he explained, seeing her confused expression. “It cancels the noise. No one can hear us while it’s on. It’s pretty standard for offices, but especially for counselors or psychiatrists.”
She took another sip of water, remembering there were supposed to be more people present today. “I thought I would meet your team,” she finally ventured.
“You will.” He twisted in the comfortable chair where he sat, picking up a notebook from the floor. “But I need a little more information from you first. We’re meeting for coffee. I thought it’d be less overwhelming that way.”
“Seok is meeting me back here.” It sounded like she needed permission from her boyfriend before meeting people, but she had no way of getting in contact with any of the guys. She didn’t know the landline number, and she had none of their cells.
“I’ll have you back when he gets here.” Not giving her a chance to argue, he launched into his questions. “Okay. Let’s start with the basics. Full name?”
“Honora Amber Leslie,” she answered after a beat.
“Date of birth.”
“October 30th, 1995.”
“Oh!” he remarked, smiling. “You have a birthday soon. I’ll have to remember to sing.”
Appreciating his attempt at kindness, she smiled. He squinted at the next question and then sighed. Taking off his glasses and putting them on his head, he then dug into the pocket of his button-down shirt, pulling out a different set to perch on his nose. “Sorry. Two sets of glasses. I know. I’m old, but I refuse to get bifocals.”
She shook her head. Dr. Murray didn’t look old at all. When she’d first met him, she was surprised to see a guy in his late thirties. She expected a college professor to look a bit more dignified.
Judge much? She winced inwardly at her choice of words.
Dr. Murray could be an action hero. He ha
d dark hair, a little long for a military-style cut, but definitely a cousin to the high-and-tight. He was muscular, though from what she could tell, not as defined as Apollo. He was, after all, wearing a shirt.
Her face flushed. Crappity. Now she was thinking about Apollo’s bare chest.
“There we go.” Glasses in place, he peered at her. “Ready?”
She cracked her knuckles. “Yup.” He is not the police, this is not an interrogation. But her brain disagreed, and her heart pounded. Get out of here. Got to get out of here. It took everything she had to stay in the chair, and not leap over the doctor. She thought she could actually do it, too. She was so flooded with adrenaline, if he stood in her way, muscles or no muscles, she’d get past him.
“Mother’s name?”
“Amber Leslie.”
“Date of Birth?”
“December 3, 1976.”
“Father’s name?”
She answered, and he went on. Eventually, she started to relax. These were simple questions: her race, her ethnicity, her parents’ race and ethnicity. Lulled by the dry nature of his questions, she sat back in the chair, tension draining from her body.
“Date you were placed in foster care?”
Every muscle seized. It was another basic question, sure, but in order to answer, she had to piece together events. She remembered it was the winter, and she was eleven. The social worker met her at the front of the school as she headed for the bus.
Your mom made some unsafe choices, and you’ll live with another family while your mom learns how to make better choices.
“How did you know about that?” she asked. A tiny bead of anger welled inside her. He had her at a disadvantage. This was private, something she hadn’t told him.
The same thing had happened to her when the police interrogated her. Detective Vance had known more about her than she realized. When he questioned her about the school shooting, he flung her past in her face to disarm her and back her into a corner. Now Dr. Murray seemed to be doing the same thing.
“Reid,” he answered, meeting her scowl. “I know you lived with the same family.”
“Oh.” Her foster brother, Reid, had been one of Dr. Murray’s subjects. How much had he confided in the doctor before he died?
From the continuing silence, it was clear he expected her to answer. “Um… December. No. January, 2006.”
“Do you know why?”
She nodded. Please be a yes or no question, please be a yes or no question.
Dr. Murray waited and then, “Tell me why you were initially placed in state custody.”
“My mother sold drugs.”
“How long where you in the foster home?” he asked, writing at the same time.
“That home? Or how long before I went back to my mother?”
He took off his glasses and folded them in his lap. “Do you remember how long you were in that home?”
“Sort of. It’s easier to remember because it’s the first.”
He stuck the notebook between the cushion and arm of the chair, and leaned forward. She hazarded a glance at his face, expecting to see pity etched in his features. Instead, he looked encouraging, and it disarmed her enough for her to answer. “Umm…A month there, and then I went to a cousin’s for a few days, and then to a new foster home when my social worker learned my mom showed up at my cousin’s. Why do you need to know all this?”
“Your past is an important part of who you are and how you shape your personal philosophy.” He walked over to the desk, picking up a folder and handing it to her. “This is your assignment.”
Inside she found a list of questions. “There’s not enough room to write here,” she said without thinking.
“You can type it. Email it to me if you don’t have a printer. We’ll meet again on Monday, have it then.” He perched on the chair, meeting her gaze. “Only a few more questions, Nora.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath, and gripped the arms of the chair with both hands.
“Date of high school graduation?”
Why did these questions leave her off-balance? Earlier, she’d relaxed, and then he threw the curve ball question about her past. Now, she was on edge, her body in fight or flight mode. “Um… June, 2013.”
“Grade point average?”
“3.95.”
“Wow.” He whistled. “I’m impressed. That’s incredible given what you had going on in your life.”
She was proud of how well she’d done in high school. Even if she hadn’t gone on to college, she knew she was smart. “Thank you.”
“Dan?” a deep voice called.
“Sounds like my team is here. Ready?” He shoved his notebook into a backpack resting next to the chair.
Despite feeling awkward and nervous about meeting the people who would soon learn everything about her, she nodded. Smiling encouragingly, he opened the door and led her back down the stairs.
Three people, two men and a woman, waited for them in the reception area. They lounged on the couches, postures relaxed, completely at ease with each other. When they saw Nora, they stood up.
“Nora Leslie, this is Jessica Chase, Nils Gunderson, and Grant Peretti. Everyone, this is Nora, our newest study participant.”
“Nice to meet you, Nora.” Jessica Chase approached her first. She was not much taller than Nora, but willowy with pale skin, a deep cleft in her chin, and dark red hair. She shook her hand firmly, stepping away to make room for the next person. “Please call me Jess.”
“Miss Leslie.” Nils Gunderson was tall and broad shouldered. His long, shaggy-looking hair such a pale blonde it was nearly white.“You can call me Nils.”
He’d barely finished speaking before he was interrupted. “Hello!” Grant Peretti took her hand in a loose-limbed grasp. He was shorter than Nils and Dr. Murray, but wider, and despite his weak handshake, his shoulders stretched the cable knit sweater he wore. “Everyone calls me Grant.”
“Nora still calls me Dr. Murray in her head,” he said, looking at her while he spoke. “I can tell. But they’re doctors, too, you know. If you use their first names, you’ve got to use mine.”
“Medical, not philosophical.” Jessica raised her hand.
She peered at the other two.
“Guilty,” Nils responded.
“Guilty,” Grant added.
Their purposeful bantering with each other set her at ease. They seem nice. Not at all like people who want to dissect my brain.
“So where are we going?” Dr. Murray handed Nora her sweatshirt.
“Maglinaro’s,” Grant answered right away.
“That’s all the way by the waterfront.” She worried Seok would be waiting around for her.
“I’ll have you back, Nora. Promise.”
Her stomach cramped with worry, but she nodded anyway. This is your job, and sometimes there are parts of your job you don’t like. Did you like cleaning the toilets at Brownington? No. But you did it. This is coffee. Suck it up.
“Okay.” She pasted a smile on her face. “I’ve never been to Maglinaro’s.”
“Oh, you are in for a treat,” Grant said, putting his arm around her shoulders and leading her outside. “I will get you their cappuccino, and a biscotti. It is the only place I go when I’m in town.”
As they led her to a shiny, black SUV and opened the back door, she started to understand why Dr. Murray called these people his team. They worked as a seamless unit, disarming her with their friendliness and a we’re not scary attitude. The four of them kept up a steady, comfortable stream of conversation as they drove down the hill toward the water, and only stopped to order their drinks.
The group seemed content to rib and tease each other, letting her remain silent. They ordered more coffee, and she couldn’t help checking the clock. Thoughtlessly, she took a sip of her cappuccino and winced at the bitterness. She hoped the biscotti would get the taste out of her mouth.
“Do you have any
questions for us?” Jessica asked suddenly.
She held up one finger, chewing quickly, and thinking about her question. “I guess… What’s your role? Why do you have so many people working with you?” She glanced at Dr. Murray.
The last question was meant for him, but Jessica spoke first. “We all have our own area of expertise. I am focused on your physical well-being, so I might take your blood pressure, or monitor your heart rate during questioning.”
The way she phrased her answer reminded Nora of Detective Vance, and her stomach churned sourly. The coffee and biscotti threatened to make a reappearance.
“Grant and Nils are both psychologists. Nils is an expert in social behavior, group dynamics, personalities, stuff like that. And Grant is sort of a jack-of-all trades, but his real gift is getting in people’s heads.”
“The study will take years, Nora,” Dr. Murray interjected before she could consider Jessica’s words too deeply. “And I need their help. All our names will go on this paper when we publish it, but it’s too big and unwieldy for me to manage on my own.”
“And it’s all confidential, right?” Her finger worried at her thumbnail, and she bit it, pulling on the skin. Grant’s eyes flashed to her hands and she folded them on the table. He smiled, but it was all too knowing and a little smug.
Biting her nails was a tell, and he caught it.
“Yes. You’re listed as a study participant. I can’t remember, ‘G,’ maybe. No names.”
“Good.”
“Did you get a chance to look at the paperwork?”
The folder Dr. Murray’d handed her was probably on her chair back at the office. She completely forgot about it.
“I grabbed it for you, Nora,” he said, reaching for his backpack. “You left it on the chair.”
“Sorry.” Her first assignment and she left it. Nice.
The first question was a big one. “Are you happy?” There was a box next to the question, and then the word, “Why?”
Each following question was worse than the previous. She skimmed the pages. “What is the meaning of life?” She snorted. “Easy, then.”
Finding Nora Page 3