The Secret He Keeps Page 13

  “You’ve got to be kidding, Rach.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You seriously don’t remember Scott passed out in the backseat of my car? Before that, you calling me, crying to take you to the bar to pick him up?” He seemed frustrated, panting and carrying on.

  She popped a can of Coke and fished through the drawer for pills. “Dane, I have no idea what you’re talking about, or freaking out over. I want to know how I got home.”

  He leaned against the counter, letting out a laborious sigh. “I can’t believe you don’t remember any of it. What? Is your short-term memory glitching out too?” His feet crossed. “I found you on the boat. When I came over here looking for you, I found you were gone. I waited an hour. I figured if you went to the store that would have given you time to come back.”

  She interrupted him. “Why did you come over here?”

  “I called but you didn’t answer or call back. I wanted to go and grab a bite to eat with you.”

  “We just did that. Last night. I’m not sure it was a good idea, anyway.” She rubbed her head in a circular fashion, as though that would release the pressure she felt inside it.

  “Rachel…” He went to say something and stopped. “I took a drive to the marina and found your car there. You used to go there when you were pissed at Scott. Which was a lot in the end. I walked to the boat and found you passed out inside.

  “You didn’t even wake up when I carried you to the car, Rachel!” His eyes bulged and he used his hands to share the surprise he felt when he discovered her passed out. “What the hell happened? Did you take something, again?”

  She tried to ignore the implication. Like she was some type of loon. Someone who needed supervision. She would’ve woken up sooner or later. Realized she’d passed out. What was the big deal? She looked down at her dog. Did she leave dog food out that day for him? Rachel went to the closet and grabbed the bag, leaving Dane at the counter, unresolved with his issues.

  “I don’t understand all the rage you’re dealing me. It’s like you found me boiling rabbits or something. For God’s sake, I had a bad day. Kill me for having a drink and going to sleep on my boat.” She poured some kibble in the silver bowl. “I hate to burst your balloon, Dane, but I get those, you know?”

  “Had a bad day? Are all of these for bad days, too? How often are your days bad, Rachel?” He gripped the neck of one of the amber-colored bottles that sat on the counter.

  She slammed the pantry door shut and stomped to where he stood, judging her life, something he had no idea of. “You think you have a freaking idea of how my life is, Dane? You think because I can go to your house and function for one evening that everything must be honky-dory with my life? You think it’s rainbows and daffodils around this lonely, miserable house? Well, it isn’t. I fight through my days with loud television and ten to twelve walks around the neighborhood. Hell, they don’t need neighborhood watch around here. I can tell you everything there is to know about it. Except, I’ve been too depressed lately to even give poor Gus a walk. I’ve thought about putting him on the treadmill. If I had one.” Was this coming out less gibberish than she heard in her mind?

  “When I did walk, I could tell you anything about anyone around here.” She raised her hand and pointed toward the street. “The bald guy on Sycamore rocks on his porch from twelve to three. No matter if it’s snowing or popping out hail. He’s out there smiling and waving at me. I can only walk twice down that road. He might think I’m crazy otherwise.” She was on a roll. Dane wasn’t moving.

  “And the lady on Spruce, she’s bent over with scoliosis, but still she picks up sticks all day. And when there is none, she pecks around in the yard like a chicken, picking up something else invisible. I pray for storms, just so she’s got something to do in the day.”

  She took a deep breath. This tirade was doing nothing for her head. The Advil hadn’t even entered her bloodstream. “Then, I come back here and wait for the night. Like it’s some freaking person you don’t want to come over, but still it does. And it sits in your living room for hours. Bringing all the darkness and loneliness with it.

  “You see, I hate the night because I can’t run out and walk for miles just because I can’t take being in here. In here with all the empty space. Where my mind remembers things differently. Now it’s become my prison. My very own hell hole. Welcome.” She threw out her arm in introductory fashion.

  “So what if I have a few drinks once in a while? It’s not hurting you. You can still go to your precious practice every day, make everyone better, go out and find dates, and live it up at Grayson’s, drinking shots with the good ol’ boys. But not me. No, I have to sit around here and make happy with movies and phone calls from Mom.” She lowered her hands. “I’ve just had all I can take. Please let yourself out.”

  She shuffled down the hall and shut the door to her room. Sleep was what she needed now.

  ***

  He knew the moment he drove over the night before and put Scott’s ring on the back porch that it was a bad idea. Why was he such a bonehead? It must’ve caused the lapse in her mood, forcing her to go to the boat. And that’s why he was persistent in finding out where she was and how she was handling finding it. He knew she would find it. He knew Rachel used that back deck every time her dog needed to use the bathroom. But even more, he knew Rachel wanted the ring. It was bothering her not to have it. And that’s the last thing he wanted to cause her—any more heartache.

  When she didn’t answer her phone, he became worried. It wasn’t difficult to figure where she went, but he had no clue what he’d find when he brought her home. Seeing those liquor bottles in her house sickened him. Especially after she’d bagged up so many of them when Scott lived there and gave them to Dane to get rid of. Rachel was worse off than he figured.

  Dane finished cleaning up the living room and took all the trash with him when he pulled the door shut behind him. He had to believe that she would be all right. He knew he crossed the line when he jumped on her case for all the alcohol. He was just worried—worried sick that the girl he once knew would never come back.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Taste of Crow

  She pushed open the glass door to the office. Her name was still on it, written in black, underneath Dane’s and Michael’s. She wondered why they hadn’t removed it yet. She hadn’t returned either one of their calls in months. Maybe she wanted to think if she didn’t, they wouldn’t take her name off. Maybe she secretly wanted to come back. Return to the living. Maybe.

  “Hi, Dr. Miller. It’s good to see you,” said the receptionist.

  Rachel had made a good choice in hiring Melinda. When her partners didn’t think she was a good candidate, Rachel thought different. So what if she didn’t know what Excel was, or that the only work experience she had was spending the night shift with her mother, waiting for her to get off at the Exxon station. Melinda was nineteen, single, and had a baby to support. Three years later, the young girl with platinum-blonde hair who wore flip-flops to give her application was still sitting behind the glass partition. Her hair was now natural brown, her shoes were sensible flats, and her baby was in daycare.

  “Hi, Melinda. Is Dane in the back?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s in with a patient. But you can wait in his office. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “Don’t. I’ll just surprise him.” Rachel didn’t want to give Dane time to throw her out. She’d plead her case of insanity for the other night and beg his forgiveness. So she flipped out on him. Okay, so maybe she went postal, but he was standing in her sanctuary, judging the hell out of her. And she was pre-hangover mode. Certainly that accounted for something. A hung jury, at least.

  She took a seat on the patient side of his desk. He still had a picture hanging on his wall of them the morning before the office opened. She was so nervous that day. What if they had made a mistake? Working at the hospital was safe. Someone else had their ass if something went wrong. And there were always patient
s there. What if no one came to their private practice?

  Dane assured her it would be better. So they found a third partner, rented a space where a plastic surgeon had gone out of business, and made a go of it. After the accident, Dane told her to come back when she was ready. Would she ever be ready?

  He pushed the door open and jumped when he saw her sitting there. “Rachel, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to apologize for my bizarre behavior last night. I was going through something, I guess. Maybe it was the Chinese food from Ming’s I got a week ago and had that morning for breakfast. I don’t know. I just wanted to come and say I’m sorry.”

  “How did you get your car?” He seemed not to be upset about the whole cussing him out thing and slamming the door to her room. But then, he was the type to let things roll off his back easily. One of the things she liked about him. One of the many things.

  “I waited until I saw Mrs. Greer walk to her car and asked her for a ride. She didn’t mind. She said it was nice going somewhere other than the doctor’s office and grocery store.” Rachel smiled. “I did have to endure the entire ride hearing about her grandson and how he’s going to Catholic school and not supposed to ever touch women again.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “You could’ve called. I would’ve taken you to get it.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d accept my call. I was sort of in freak mode the last time you saw me.”

  “Rachel, I’m not mad at you. I’m worried about you. I have been for months. You told me to give you space. I’ve done that. I thought by now you would’ve regained your memory and moved past everything. Gotten better. I thought that night at my house was a sign you were beginning to move forward.”

  She fixed the back to one of his pictures on the desk. It really didn’t need fixing. “About that. I decided I didn’t want my memory back.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course you do. Who wants to not remember such a large amount of their life?”

  “You see, when you say things like you did the other night, it scares me. I didn’t know that person. Scott wasn’t like you described, in my mind. I don’t want to know that person. I want to keep my memories of him. The happy times.”

  His eyes squinted ever so subtly, and his fist balled. He took a deep breath. “So when do you think you’re coming back? We’ve picked up some new patients, and Michael’s been walking around stretching down his tie, a lot lately. I think he’s stressed.”

  “I didn’t think I’d ever be ready, but after I helped Caitlin the other night, it made me miss being needed.” She stared at the corner of the desk. Was this a segue into committing herself back to work? Her eyes drifted back to him. “It felt good.”

  “Rachel, you’re a good doctor. It would help you to come back. Your memory is all good with the important stuff, right? You know the difference between fibula and tibia? A sinus infection versus a cold?”

  She tilted her head. What did he mean? “Yes. Still all there.” She knocked on the side of her head with her knuckles.

  “Okay, okay. I took an oath that I have to ask.”

  She smiled, relieved all was good between them. It was a bit embarrassing her secret was out for being dependent on a drink to get her through the lonely hours in her house, but it was fine now.

  “I think I’ll go and check out my office. Make sure it’s still there, you know.”

  “Oh, it’s there. Trust me.”

  She crept down the hallway to her office. She hoped no one would see her and ask when she was returning. She was still new to the idea.

  ***

  Dane figured it would be easy for Rachel to return to being a doctor. He’d seen it firsthand the other night when she helped her neighbor. But did she really think it was all right not to remember a year of her life? She had been diagnosed with repression from their colleague, Dr. Gaskins. Dane thought back to that day. The hospital called and told him she’d regained consciousness. He couldn’t wait to see her. It was the one good thing that came out of all of it. She survived.

  “Hey, you.” He pulled her toe that was covered up in the bed sheet. “Rachel?”

  He went to her side. Her mother let go of her hand and walked to the window.

  “Rachel, what’s wrong?”

  She wiped her running nose with the side of her hand. He pulled two tissues from the side table and handed them to her.

  “Rach, I’m so glad you’re all right. You’ll never know how worried I was.” He bent over, hugging her, taking deep breaths to control his ecstatic relief that she was okay. He’d spent endless hours in the chapel praying for her return to consciousness. To him.

  She grabbed tight to his shoulder; he felt her thin fingers hold firm to his shirt. Then came the breakdown. “Oh God, Dane. Scott’s gone. He’s gone.” She couldn’t breathe. Her sobs were out of control. Her body convulsed with every attempt to grab air.

  He smoothed her hair. Her mother stood by the window, wringing her hands and wiping her own eyes.

  “Rachel, I know. I know.” He hugged her again, rocking her back and forth and soaking up her tears. Her body felt thin.

  She stopped sobbing. “Dane, they told me alcohol was the reason. Did a drunk driver hit us?”

  “You don’t remember?” He backed away, looking into her dark, glassy brown eyes.

  She shook her head. “No. What happened?”

  He shot a look to her mother. She looked away. “Rachel, Scott was the one who was intoxicated.”

  Her eyebrows wrinkled. “What are you talking about? He wouldn’t have driven if he had been drinking. Where were we coming from? Dane, you know Scott the best. He wouldn’t have done something like this. Tell me what really happened.”

  He rubbed his forehead back and forth with friction. “I’ll be right back. I need to check something.”

  He found the doctor who was on Rachel’s case and asked him for a consult. The doctor had a few minutes to spare and invited him in his office.

  “What can I do for you, Dr. Stone?” The tall man sat behind his desk. His enormous clasped hands rested on a pile of paperwork in front of him.

  “I just came from Dr. Rachel Miller’s room and she doesn’t seem to be able to recount the events of the accident. Now I can imagine the actual wreck would be something forgotten, but she has no idea where she was before it happened. Is that normal?”

  “With a brain injury, anything can be expected, you know that. Loss of memory for the day, the week, even the month. It can come back, bits and pieces over time, or all at once. Depending on if it’s something she wants to remember. I’ll talk to her a little more, but I’d advise having Dr. Gaskins giving her a look-over.”

  He consulted with Dr. Gaskins, too. She told him she felt it could be something Rachel was repressing. With time, she would remember.

  Dane looked at her now, peeking through the door of her office. It looked normal to see her there. Just like before. She seemed happy sitting at her desk. Her fingers rested on the desk as she stared out the window. He knew this was the beginning of her moving forward. Committing to a work schedule was leaps and bounds to where she was a month ago. And who knows? Maybe they could start spending more time together socially, too.

  “Hey you.” He moved slowly to sit down across from her. “Troy and April are having their annual Thanksgiving getaway next weekend. Want to come with me? I’ll be the odd one out, if you don’t.”

  She was almost too quick with her answer. “No way. I am not ready for that.”

  “That?” He twisted his lips. “Rachel, we always went.”

  “That was a long time ago, Dane. I haven’t seen anyone since the accident. I’m almost ashamed at how I never called to thank people for the flowers and food they’d drop on my porch.”

  “Rachel, no one was waiting for their thank-you card. They’ve simply kept away until you were ready to come around. Now go with me. You’ve got nothing else, I’m sure.”

  “I’ll think about it.”
She rose up from her chair and walked toward the door.

  He stood, wanting to give her a hug before she left. It would mean that the other night was all forgiven. It would also meet a need in him to touch her again. To smell her hair and feel her close. He needed that.

  She opened the door and he got halfway to her before she turned and waved good-bye.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Decisions, Decisions

  Rachel looked at the empty side of the closet. She had finally removed all of Scott’s clothes. Unlike listening to her mother to take them to the Salvation Army, she stuffed them in the spare room’s closet. Baby steps. Now her closet seemed empty. Her husband matched the number of clothes she owned. It was crazy. Most couples she knew, the woman outnumbered their husband’s wardrobe by three to one. Now to work toward taking his toothbrush from her cup in the bathroom.

  Dane messaged her that morning about going away for Thanksgiving. She obviously didn’t have plans. But like going to his house, she felt weird about going to their friends’ house and not having Scott come along. Still, she didn’t want to be home alone on the holiday. And her mother would guilt her into going to the diner. Peggy and Frank always had dinner there for people who didn’t have family to eat with. Rachel wasn’t ready to step into that pool of people and join hands as being the less fortunate. Not if she had someone willing to cook dinner for her. In a home…where no one was looking at her like they knew for a fact she had no one else. Okay, so maybe they would look at her like that. But there was still the problem of going with Dane. It was a bit awkward the last few times they were together. A day trip?

  She grabbed her phone and searched the number for her friend back home in Georgia. To give her advice on how to handle the Thanksgiving invitation dilemma. Please pick up. “Hello? Collette?”