Monday, October 15
Four Days Before
Rain lashed at the windows, rattling the panes so hard I woke. I slung an arm around Heath’s body, and he twisted around, sleepy-eyed and warm. He rolled on top of me, then lowered his lips to mine.
“Wait, what time is it?” I mumbled into his mouth.
“Do we care?” His lips traveled down to my shoulder.
I thought of the monitors in the cramped attic room. The yellow legal pad.
“Yes, we care. I don’t remember. What did Reggie say? The cameras go off at five until . . .”
“Eight.” He propped on his elbows, and looked at the clock on the mantel. “And it’s five after eight. Dammit.” He flopped off me. “I hate this place.”
I smiled. “Ironic, since it was you who insisted we come here. But it’s going to help us figure everything out, so buck up, soldier. Also”—I bit his earlobe and whispered—“if you meet me back here at one thirty, the cameras’ll be off.”
He rolled over and looked into my eyes. “I can’t wait.”
“Anticipation’s half the fun.”
“If you think that, I’m not doing it right.”
I traced the line of his jaw. “Oh, trust me. You do it right.”
He sat up with a groan. “You’re killing me, woman.”
I stroked his bare back. His skin goosepimpled under my fingertips. “Any nightmares?”
“Nope. Not a one.”
I fluttered my fingers up his spine, smiling at how I raised a whole new crop of goose bumps with each move. I leaned close, my lips at his ear. “I found something interesting last night. In the attic. A room with a bunch of old-school surveillance equipment. I’m pretty sure it’s where they watch us.”
He whipped around to look at me. “You left the room last night?”
“Shh.” I grinned. “I woke up and we’d missed dinner. I was starving.”
“You shouldn’t have gone snooping around,” he whispered sternly.
“Why not?”
He turned back and made a little shrugging move so I’d keep on scratching. “It’s just that we don’t know the other people here. We don’t know Dr. Teague or Dr. Cerny.”
“Are you mad?”
“No. I just think you should be careful. And you heard the rules about places being off limits.”
“I was careful. You know, Jerry McAdam has a cell phone.”
He glanced around the room, like he was worried the camera could pick up on our body language. “You watched the other couples?”
“For just a minute or two, yeah.”
“Daphne, Jesus,” he said. “You’re not supposed to be spying on people. They’re here because they have problems, which makes them vulnerable. Besides that, maybe you’re somehow compromising the doctor’s methods.” He turned away.
I sighed. “I know. Okay? I know that.” I laid my head against his back. Let my hand travel around to his chest, then abdomen. “The door was open, and I was curious.”
He made a reproving sound. “What if they stumbled upon that room and decided to watch us? Watch you?”
“You mean to tell me, if you saw an open door with a wall of surveillance monitors, you wouldn’t feel the slightest bit intrigued? You’re telling me you would walk on past without even a peek?”
“I wouldn’t watch,” he said, so fiercely I pressed my lips together.
I wasn’t about to tell him about running into Dr. Cerny. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be thrilled about me sharing a bottle of wine with the guy he was about to spend a week of intensive therapy with. Anyway, I was tired of whispering. So there was another secret. I guessed I could add it to the one I was keeping about reaching out to his ex-girlfriend.
A sharp knock startled me. When I opened our door, there was no one there, just an intricately scrolled silver tray at my feet, laid with an elaborate collection of china, crystal, and silver. The sharp scent of coffee and fresh-baked somethings that rose from it made my mouth water. I must’ve just missed Luca, the phantom, non-English-speaking cook.
A note sat to one corner, heavy cream stationery. I popped on my glasses and read it aloud to Heath while he laid out the meal.
8 a.m. Breakfast (room)
9 a.m.–9:50 a.m. Heath Beck session (sunroom)
10 a.m.–10:50 a.m. Heath Beck reading assignment (Dr. Cerny In Session)
11 a.m.–11:50 a.m. Heath Beck assessments (Dr. Cerny In Session)
12:30 p.m. Lunch (room)
1:30 p.m.–2:30 p.m. Free block (cameras off)
3 p.m.–3:50 p.m. Heath Beck session with Dr. Cerny (sunroom)
4 p.m.–4:50 p.m. Heath Beck writing assignment (Dr. Cerny In Session)
5 p.m.–5:50 p.m. Heath Beck meditation (Dr. Cerny In Session)
6 p.m.–7 p.m. Free block (cameras on)
7 p.m. Dinner (room)
8 p.m.–10 p.m. Free block (cameras on)
10 p.m.–12 a.m. Free block (cameras off)
I tossed the note on the bed. “According to this, you’ve essentially signed up for six hours of daily therapy.”
“It’s not all therapy.” He tucked into the scrambled eggs. “There are personality tests. Reading and journaling. Meditating.”
“Free blocks,” I couldn’t resist adding.
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” he said mildly, cutting a sausage in half.
“You’ve never meditated a second in your life.”
“That you know of.”
I sat opposite him and poured a cup of coffee. There was nothing to say in response to that. He was right. There were probably a thousand details I didn’t know about him, a wealth of information that I had chosen to give up in exchange for peace of mind.
He put down his fork. “Come on, Daph, it’s not like I’m looking forward to this. But I’m doing what I have to do to get my head straight. So we can have a normal life.”
“We did have a normal life,” I said.
We bought overpriced organic goat cheese and Jerusalem artichokes and weird-colored olives with the lofty intention of trying new recipes but let them all go bad in the fridge in favor of takeout pizza. We watched terrible movies on Sunday afternoons and actually enjoyed them. We made love almost every night.
We had a normal life—until you flipped out.
After we finished, he went into the bathroom. I followed him, leaned against the door frame while he turned on the shower and peeled off his underwear.
“I just wish we could’ve stayed home and taken care of this in Atlanta,” I said.
“There’s no one like Dr. Cerny in Atlanta. He’s going to help me, Daph, I really have a feeling. He’s going to help me figure out my past—and we’re going to be better for it.”
He turned to face the stream of water. Ran his fingers through his dark hair. He looked fantastic. Delicious. I wished we could skip the morning’s schedule. No, I wished we could get in the Nissan and drive back down the mountain. Get a cabin of our own—one without big, dark, cobwebby furniture and velvet-fringed draperies. We could open a couple of bottles of wine and sit in a hot tub staring at the mountains and wearing each other out all week long.
Solve our problems the old-fashioned way. With sex.
Downstairs we met Dr. Cerny, who, in tweed pants and an expensive-looking black cashmere sweater, looked a little bit like an old duke hanging out at his genteel, slightly tattered countryside castle. When he entered the foyer at the same time we did, I couldn’t help but wonder if there were also cameras that tracked our movement through the house. The sensation of being watched never seemed to leave me.
“Daphne Amos,” I blurted, my hand shooting out at Dr. Cerny like an arrow. “Nice to meet you.”
He clasped my hand, his eyebrows raised. “Nice to meet you too, Ms. Amos. Matthew Cerny.”
His eyes twinkled, our secret obviously giving him some mischievous delight. I appreciated his playing along with my charade, but something about it unsettled me. Like the way he’d noticed the band on my wrist last night, picked up on my snack foraging. The odd toast that seemed directed at me.
That old saying ran through my head: He’s got your number.
“Thank you for having us on such short notice,” Heath said.
“I wholeheartedly approve of an emergency relationship intervention. Not to be glib about marriage, of course.” Cerny smiled at me. “I’m impressed with people as young as you who take their transition to the institution with such sobriety.” He turned to Heath. “Mr. Beck. A pleasure, at last.”
“Likewise,” Heath said in an even voice. He seemed tense—or coiled for attack, I couldn’t tell which.
Cerny rubbed his hands together. “Business first. Dr. Teague has gone down to Dunfree. Family issues, nothing to worry about. So, unfortunately, there’s no one who can show you around the property. Or pull up the correct papers for you to sign. Seems I’m helpless without my assistant.”
“Well, it’s not like we’re going anywhere,” I said. “And I can show myself around.”
And find where Reggie Teague had stashed our car.
“Excellent,” Cerny said. “Then Heath and I will have our first session. Meanwhile, I’d encourage you to find a spot outside where you can meditate or journal.”
I saw one corner of Heath’s mouth twitch.
“Will do,” I said.
“Mr. Beck? Ready?” Dr. Cerny gestured toward the hall that led to his office, then looked back at me. “I believe the rain has stopped. You know, Daphne, you ought to go outside and visit the bird garden. Watching the birds, I find, is quite a peaceful pursuit. For most.”
His dimples appeared, and I couldn’t help it—I flashed to Mr. Al. Then I glanced at Heath, but he’d already turned toward the doctor’s office, like he couldn’t wait to get started.