The Heat of the Moon: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) (13 page)

Chapter Twelve

The only sound in the room was the faint tick of Theo’s marble mantel clock. Outside on the sidewalk, people passed within a few feet of the front windows, but their voices and laughter were muffled, distant. A hot summer Sunday in Georgetown. Crowded sidewalks, traffic-clogged streets. People living their lives. I was on the verge of redefining mine. The answers I needed were locked in my memory, waiting to be freed.

With narrowed eyes, Theo peered at me from his armchair. “Are you afraid, Rachel?”

I shrugged, dropping my gaze to the two Siamese cats crammed onto my lap. “A little. But I’m ready. I’m prepared.”

I was terrified. How could I prepare myself for the unknown?

Over a lunch I barely touched, we’d talked about books, my work, the heat and lack of rain, everything except the reason I’d come to see him. I’d known he was watching me, though, for signs that I might not be able to deal with the memories hypnosis dredged up. I put on a show of strength and composure.

“Have you talked with your mother about this?” Theo said. “I don’t like keeping it from her.”

“Theo—”

He raised a hand. “Very well, I won’t mention it again.”

I’d seen suspicion in Mother’s eyes when I told her I’d be with some rehabber friends that afternoon. She could tell I was lying.

Forget about Mother. You’re doing this for yourself.
The moment I formed the thought, a wave of familiar guilt swept over it, as surely as the tide rolls in to knock down a sand castle. 

“Are you going to try regression?” I said. “Taking me back to a younger age?” The idea scared me.

Theo shook his head. “No, at least not at the beginning. What I think might work best for you is simple free association. My greatest concern is that you understand the unreliability of memory. Even pleasant memories may contain many distortions. And you aren’t likely to recover whole memories, with every detail intact.”

“I know.”

He smiled. “But perhaps you will be able to fill in some of the blanks, and what you learn may not be as terrible as you expect.”

***

I drove the two of us to Theo’s office on K Street. He wanted to conduct the session in a professional setting.

The elevator rose through a silent, deserted building and released us into a sixth floor corridor that smelled of wax. Theo’s four-footed cane thumped along the gleaming blue tile floor.

When I stepped inside the office suite, fusty warm air made my throat close up. I coughed.

Theo flipped on lights and went straight to the thermostat. “Eighty degrees!” He twisted the dial. “I cannot believe that turning up the thermostat for the weekend is cost-efficient in the least. But I always seem to be overruled in the matter.”

Theo shared quarters with another psychiatrist; two doors opening off the small waiting room bore their nameplates.

I didn’t want to be here. I shouldn’t be doing this. I took a step backward, toward the corridor, the elevator, my car.

“Come in, come in,” Theo said, pushing open his office door and waving a hand at me.

I hesitated a second before I followed. Like the man, the office was congenial and welcoming. Bookshelves overflowed, the top of the big oak desk held a clutter of journals and books. An oriental rug, predominantly red and blue, hid most of the beige carpet. In the wide window a pothos, glossy and riotously healthy, trailed from its pot.

My fear ebbed for a moment. Then I turned and saw the brown leather reclining couch, a classic analyst’s couch, against one wall. Down its center the leather was worn nearly white from the contact of human bodies, and I had the sensation that I was seeing a ghost.

“Well, now,” Theo said, a hand on the back of his desk chair. “Shall we sit down and talk a bit first?”

I focused on a single strand of black hair in his white beard, and imagined the young Theo trapped inside that arthritic body, sending out tiny and easily overlooked signals that he was still alive.

I pulled myself up short. “I’d like to get right to the point.”

His laugh was a pleasant rumble. “In this office, that would be both unusual and refreshing.”

When I tried to laugh with him, all that came out was a harsh croak.

I felt him studying me while I studied a red poppy in the rug’s design. After a moment he swung his chair around and rolled it toward the couch. “All right then. Why don’t we begin?”

What made me think I could go through with this? 

“Rachel, would you like to lie down?” Theo said, his voice already assuming that gentle tone associated with hypnosis. He gestured at the couch.

I stepped over to it, looked down at the ghost. Theo sank into his chair, smiled encouragingly and made another sweeping motion, inviting and urging me to submit.

I wanted to run. The thought of stretching out and giving myself over brought a wave of nausea. But I had to do this. I didn’t know any other way to free my memories.

I made myself sit down. Instantly dread swooped over me, a smothering cloak.
I can’t.
I jumped up.

“Rachel?” Theo said. “Do you need something?”

Sitting again, I let out a short breath. “No, no, I’m just nervous.”

“Are you sure—”

“Yes!” The volume of my voice startled me. “Yes, I’m sure,” I said more quietly.
I will do this.

I was conscious of his hesitancy, and was relieved when he seemed to put it aside. “Please lie down, Rachel,” he said.

Swinging my legs up, I laid myself out on the couch, ready for dissection. I didn’t realize my hands had formed fists at my sides until Theo touched my right wrist, murmuring, “Relax, Rachel. Relax. Take a long deep breath and let it out slowly, very slowly.”

His soothing tone was so much like Mother’s.

Breathe, deeply in, slowly out. Hands palm-up at my sides, the way Mother taught me. Open. Receptive. But my body remained rigid, caught fast in a web of tension.

“I’d like you to close your eyes,” Theo said. “Take another deep breath and let it out slowly.”

I closed my eyes. I breathed.

“I want you to continue breathing deeply and slowly as you relax your body. I want you to concentrate on the muscles and nerves of your feet. All the muscles and nerves in your feet are completely relaxed. Completely loose and relaxed.”

Let go. Let it happen.

“Concentrate now on the muscles and nerves of your calves and thighs. All the muscles and nerves in your calves and thighs are completely loose and relaxed. Your legs are lying loose and relaxed on the couch.”

Warmth spread through my legs as I felt them go limp.

“All the tension is leaving the muscles and nerves of your stomach, your buttocks, your lower back. The muscles and nerves are completely relaxed.”

My body sank heavily against the couch.

Theo’s voice whispered on. “The muscles and nerves of your fingers, your hands and wrists…your arms…your shoulders…your neck…your scalp…your face…completely loose and relaxed. Your eyelids are very heavy. You will keep your eyes closed until I tell you to wake up.”

I was aware of my eyelids fluttering, some part of me testing. My eyes refused to open.

“I want you to imagine that you are floating in a boat in a pool of clear, warm water. You are lying back against soft cushions. The sky is deep blue with puffy white clouds, and a light breeze is blowing around you. The sun is warming your skin. Feel the warmth of the sun on your face and arms.” 

I drifted, floating, borne up by gently rocking water.

Theo’s voice moved closer to my ear. “I’m going to count backward from one hundred to zero. With each number I speak, you will become more and more relaxed, going deeper and deeper. When I reach zero you will be at the deepest level of relaxation. Your mind will be open and free. Don’t be afraid. I will always be here with you, and you will always be able to hear me.”

He began to count slowly. “One hundred…ninety-nine…”

Resistance flared in me, a sudden leaping flame.
No. It’s wrong.

Theo counted.

Something awful would happen. You won’t allow anyone except me
—
I had to open my eyes. I had to get up. But I couldn’t move. My body was lead-heavy, rooted, beyond my direction.

Theo counted.

My skin prickled and burned.
Mother will never forgive me.

Theo counted.

Images swam up in my mind, the sad-faced woman, the angry man. A gabble of voices.

Take her and leave then, I don’t give a damn.

I never said I wanted to leave.

I want my Daddy!

Your father’s dead, an accident.

Theo counted.

Mommy!
My sister, crying, terrified, rain streaming through her yellow hair, thunder rolling across the sky.

I struggled upward like a swimmer wearing weights, struggled toward air and light.
Oh no, oh no.

Theo counted.

Mother’s face, leaning over me, her voice soft.
I’ll take care of you. I love you.

Had to get away, couldn’t let myself remember, couldn’t look, couldn’t listen.

Theo counted.

Thrashing, fighting, yet not moving at all, I struggled toward the light.
Don’t leave me, don’t leave me!

Theo counted.

“No!” I sat bolt upright, eyes open, gasping for breath.

“Rachel!”

His hands reached, mine flailed, beating off his touch. I wobbled to my feet, but my legs wouldn’t work, they couldn’t hold me up. I sat down heavily.

“Rachel, wake up!” Hands slapped together in my face.

I was instantly aware, clear-eyed, wondering. Theo and I stared at each other. My blood roared in my ears.

“Are you all right?” he said at last.

The room around me came into focus. Cozy, safe. I nodded and whispered, “I think so.”

“Well. That’s good.” He reached to pat my arm.

Beads of sweat clung to his forehead, each as sharply defined as a pearl. I touched my own forehead and my fingertips came away wet. 

“Clearly something is at work here that I didn’t see,” Theo said. Positioning his cane between his knees, he stacked his hands on its handle. “I apologize for this. All I can say in my defense is that I anticipated no problems, because you’ve been hypnotized successfully in the past.”

By Mother.
No one else, you will never allow anyone except me—

I forced myself to my feet. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Rachel,” Theo said, “please sit down. We need to talk about this. Let me get you some water.”

I sat with my hot face in my hands. Theo’s footsteps shuffled across the carpet, a door opened, water ran, the door clicked shut.

“Take this, please,” he said.

I clutched the white paper cup with both hands. On the water’s surface two bubbles burst, one then the other, creating little waves in the tiny pool. Why were people always given water at times of crisis? Was this a crisis?

Theo said, “Do you have any idea why you reacted this way?”

I downed half the water in a cool gulp. “I’m not used to anybody but Mother hypnotizing me.”
You will never allow anyone except me—

“Well, let’s leave that for the moment,” Theo said. “You seemed to see something that frightened you. Can you tell me what it was?”

“I don’t know. Crazy stuff.”

“Try to describe this crazy stuff.”

I looked at him and blurted, “Theo, was I adopted?”

His white eyebrows shot up. “Adopted? What brought that on?”

“Did Mother ever tell you I was adopted? Did she tell you where I came from?”

“Rachel, Rachel.” He reached over and grasped my arm, his crippled fingers surprisingly strong. “What on earth—I know nothing of an adoption. Look at yourself. You are your mother’s daughter. Why in the world would you question that?”

“These people in my head! This man and woman, I keep seeing them, I’ve seen them all my life, I don’t know who—And I’m not in the pictures—”

I tried to stand. I wanted to get away. His hand tightened on my arm, pulling me back to the couch. Water sloshed from the paper cup onto the rug, and I moaned in distress at the sight of the wet blotch.

“Never mind that,” Theo said. He removed the cup from my fingers and set it on the floor by his chair. “Describe these people you see.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. They’re like shadows. They’re not clear. They’ve never been clear.”

“Ah.” Theo fell silent.

For a long moment I sat watching the water spot spread darkly through the rug’s multicolored fibers.

Theo asked, “Rachel, who is Kathy?”

I jerked my head up. “Kathy? How do you know about Kathy?”

“You spoke her name. You cried out her name. You said, ‘Kathy, come back. Kathy, don’t leave me.’ Who is Kathy?”