The Stolen Breath Page 4

  “I’m sorry,” Madison says again. “I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. Here I am putting my foot in my—”

  “It’s okay, Madison. It helps to talk about it sometimes.” I pick up my glass of water and stand up. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to get ready for my appointment.”

  “Sure, go ahead. I should go to Lea. I think I can hear her making sounds upstairs.” She touches my arm briefly. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Madison, you are heaven sent.”

  Why did I wait so long to hire a nanny? Now that Madison is in my life, I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders.

  Before going to my bedroom, I stop by the nursery. This time, when Lea sees me, she smiles. It’s as if she knows our life is about to get so much easier. She senses my calm. And now I will get to enjoy my happy little baby instead of being overwhelmed all the time.

  I pick her up and hold her to my body. “I may not be perfect, little girl, but I love you.”

  When I turn around, I find Madison standing in the doorway. A cloud of disappointment settles over me only because I was enjoying the moment with my daughter. But Madison is here to do her job.

  “She’s all yours.” I place Lea into her arms.

  Madison looks down at her with a gentle expression.

  “Hi, little princess,” she whispers. She moves to the armchair by the large windows and lowers herself into it, still gazing into Lea’s face. If someone were to walk into the room, they would probably think Madison is Lea’s mother and I’m the nanny.

  That’s ridiculous, I tell myself and head for the door. I glance over my shoulder again, hesitant to leave Lea alone. But I push myself. Lea needs a healthy mother.

  For the first time in a while, I take a long shower without worrying about my daughter. When I step out, I feel light and refreshed, even if I can still feel the ever-present dull ache in my chest.

  The pain of losing Andrew will never go away, but maybe someday it will transform into something else, something less painful. Right now, it’s a gnawing in the center of my heart.

  I leave the house almost half an hour before I have to meet the therapist. Outside, I wave at Anita, who is getting onto her bike, her backpack on her back. A few months ago, Anita decided that she prefers to ride her bike around town instead of driving. It’s a good thing we live in a small town.

  When she sees me, she walks the few feet to my car.

  “Is the nanny here?” She glances at the front door. “Does she still seem as perfect as last time?”

  “Even better. She’s with Lea now and they’re bonding quite well.”

  Anita puts an arm around my shoulders. “You’re still her mom. That will never change.”

  “I know.” I force a smile.

  “So, how will you use some of your free time?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know yet. But right now, I’ll start with doing something for my emotional health.”

  “You’re going to see the therapist?”

  “Yeah. We’re meeting at the Vintage Bean Café.” I open my car door.

  Anita nods. “I’m so happy you’re going to see her. She really helped me a lot when I was her patient. She’ll help you.”

  I nod, hoping I’m not beyond repair.

  Chapter 6

  Before I enter the café, I observe the therapist, Kelly Wilkinson, through the bay windows of the restaurant.

  The café is packed, and she’s the only person sitting at a table by herself.

  I take a breath before pushing the door open, and am immediately engulfed by sounds of talking, laughing, and gentle jazz music playing in the background. The air feels too warm inside, or maybe that’s anxiety heating up my body.

  Kelly is sitting with her back straight and her legs crossed to the side. Instead of formal clothing, she’s wearing jeans and a teal silk blouse that shows off her perfectly toned arms.

  I take my time getting to the table because she’s on the phone and I do not want to disturb her. But she sees me and offers me a smile that reveals perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth. By the time I reach the table, her call has ended and her complete attention is on me. She rises from her chair, her movements smooth and coordinated, her dark bob swaying like a curtain.

  She extends her hand and for a brief second I look down at her well-manicured nails. She so well put together that I feel like a frump next to her. Wrapped in her cloud of perfection, she’s exactly the kind of girl I felt intimidated by in school and college. But those days are gone and instead of feeling insecure, I’m comfortable in her presence before we even speak.

  “Delia, it’s so nice to see you. Please take a seat.” I accept her hand and squeeze it. Her grip is warm and firm, but her palm is slightly damp.

  Ignoring her sweaty palm, I smile and hang my handbag over the back of the chair. “Sorry I’m late.”

  She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. Five minutes is not a big deal.”

  As I sit down, I wonder how much I’m ready to tell her about myself. There’s so much that even Anita doesn’t know. As a doctor, Kelly is supposed to keep my information confidential, but I believe doctors are expected to report certain things.

  Even if I don’t tell her everything, it would still help to talk to someone about some of the things that bother me.

  “Shall we order? What would you like to have?” She flips open the laminated menu and runs the tip of her finger down the page.

  Before I can respond, the barista comes to take our orders. I order a cup of chamomile tea and a chocolate muffin. Kelly goes for a cappuccino.

  As soon as the order arrives, we slip into a comfortable conversation about Sarton.

  What I appreciate about her is that she makes me feel like we are friends out for a drink. She doesn’t have a notepad or computer or anything that would make me feel uncomfortable.

  It’s so easy for me to open up to her. Maybe if we were in a stricter environment like her office, I would’ve been more closed off.

  “Delia, tell me a little more about yourself,” she says, raising her cappuccino to her lips when it arrives.

  For some people, it’s a simple question that calls for a simple response.

  But my life is complicated, with so many layers, some of which I prefer not to peel away.

  I take my time sipping my tea while my mind goes into overdrive, trying to filter what information I should give her.

  “There’s really not much to tell, Dr. Wilkinson.”

  “Call me Kelly,” she says with a kind smile. “No need for formalities.” She pauses. “And don’t feel like you can’t tell me anything. Everything you say here is strictly confidential.”

  I peel my gaze from hers and stare into my cup of tea. “I appreciate that.” I’m still worried though. In a small town, secrets have a way of coming out. That’s why I don’t plan on revealing anything that could get me into trouble.

  “You mentioned that you grew up in Oakney, is that right?”

  “Yes.” I look back at her. “I’ve been living in Sarton for seven years now.”

  “Why did you choose to come here? Oakney is so charming. I visited it a lot over the years. My brother went to Oakney College.”

  She’s right. Oakney is a college town at heart, and Oakney College is ranked as one of the best small-town colleges in the US. It’s always full of high school students taking college tours, and every summer, hundreds of people flock to the nearby beaches.

  “You’re right. Oakney definitely has its charms, but I was looking for another pretty town to start over.” I don’t mention that I prefer to live somewhere that doesn’t have a sea nearby. My discomfort around deep water is a little embarrassing, but it’s real, especially since I can’t swim.

  “To start over?” She raises an eyebrow. “Was there something that drove you out of Oakney?”

  I close my eyes and then open them again. “A couple of months before I graduated from college, I
was diagnosed with kidney disease.” I take a breath. “They didn’t give me long to live.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” She doesn’t say anything more, expecting me to continue.

  “I’m here because I received a kidney transplant. It was kind of a gift.”

  “A gift?” Kelly raises her eyebrows.

  “Yes, from an old friend.”

  “Wow. That’s such a precious gift to receive.” She leans closer to the table. “I can imagine that something like that has the power to create an eternal bond between two people. You and your friend must be very close.”

  “No, we’re not.” I reach for a napkin and start to shred it into tiny pieces.

  Some topics are off limits. That’s one of them.

  Kelly’s lips part in surprise. “That’s a shame. Did you drift apart?”

  “It’s complicated.” I drop what’s left of the napkin onto the table and take a deep breath. “If you don’t mind, I would rather talk about my life in Sarton.”

  Kelly gives me a curt nod and finishes her cappuccino without saying anything more. The smile has disappeared from her lips.

  I guess I’m making her job much harder. From what I’ve heard, most shrinks love to discuss their patients’ pasts.

  “Can I ask a question?” I ask.

  “You sure can,” Kelly says.

  “Do you always meet your patients outside your office?”

  Thanks to a form Kelly asked me to fill out before our session, she already knows about Andrew’s death and my struggles with motherhood. But I’m still not quite ready to talk about it. Steering the conversation away from me for a few minutes would give me a chance to gather my thoughts.

  A smile curls the corner of her lips. “I like to believe that my patients open up more when they feel comfortable, whether that’s at a café, a restaurant, or even a park.”

  “That’s interesting. I’ve never heard of a therapist working that way.”

  “I’m not just any therapist. I like doing things differently. Working this way also gets me results faster.” She leans back in her chair, her eyes on my face. “Delia, I know it’s hard to speak about the things that hurt us, but sometimes it helps. You don’t need to hold back.”

  “I don’t know why I can’t cope. I’m not the first person to experience such a tragedy. I don’t even know how to be a mother to my daughter.”

  “You can’t force some things. You have to let it happen naturally. You lost someone close to you and you are allowed to grieve for as long as you need. What you need to do is give yourself the permission.”

  “Will the pain ever go away?”

  “If it doesn’t, over time you will learn to be strong enough to live with it.”

  It’s not the answer I want, but it will do. “I’m so tired of hurting. All I want to do is lie down and sleep for a long time. But I can’t do that because I have a child to take care of.”

  Kelly lifts her cup to her lips and watches me over the rim. “How are you sleeping at night?”

  “I feel like I haven’t slept properly since Andrew died. My daughter wakes up a lot at night.” I lean my head back and gaze up at the rustic ceiling light, then back at Kelly. “I recently hired a live-in nanny. I hope things will improve. Will you put me on medication?”

  Kelly shakes her head. “I’m not the kind of therapist who automatically prescribes medication to her patients. I prefer to talk about your problems for a while and then we can decide. But after a couple of days if you’re still not able to sleep, I’d be happy to revisit the topic. Going forward, I suggest we meet once or twice a week, and if you need me any other time, you have my number. Feel free to call me outside working hours. I’m here whenever you need me.”

  “Thank you so much.” It’s good for me to have the option to call my therapist at any time of the day, but I’m pretty sure I’d end up paying a higher price. I can’t afford it right now. “Once a week should be enough.”

  “Ok.” She smiles, but this time it looks forced. I guess she was expecting to make as much money from me as possible. I don’t blame her. Even though she’s acting like my friend, she’s not. This is her job.

  “Would that be all right?” I ask to make sure we are on the same page.

  “Of course. Whatever works for you, works for me.” She folds her hands on the table. “Now go on and tell me a little more about your childhood. It will help me better understand the person you are as an adult.”

  Instead of talking about my present circumstances, she focuses on my kidney disease, the transplant, and everything that happened in the weeks before I left Oakney. To her disappointment, I end our session earlier than planned.

  When I leave the café, I know I’ll no longer be seeing her. Going to a therapist may be a great idea for someone else, but not for me. I have way too many skeletons in my closet.

  BACK HOME, THE SMELLS of a home-cooked meal welcome me the moment I open the door.

  Madison comes to meet me in the entryway with Lea in her arms. From what I can see and smell, she has not only cooked late lunch, she has also tidied up.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” she says with a smile. “I made mac and cheese.”

  “You really didn’t have to.” I reach for Lea. Madison hesitates before handing her to me.

  “Nothin’ to it! I came across some cheese in the fridge and some noodles in the pantry and thought I’d make you something to eat. I love to cook.”

  “Is there anything you can’t do?” I ask, kissing Lea on the cheek. Lea coos as she places one of her small hands on my own cheek, her warmth seeping through my skin, touching my heart. “Well, thank you. It’s really kind of you.”

  I follow Madison to the kitchen and settle Lea in her high chair. After living mostly on take-out meals the last couple of months, a home-cooked meal would bring me a little closer to feeling whole again.

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “Why not? You don’t have to do all this. I’m paying you to take care of Lea. I can do the rest.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Madison places food in front of me. “After everything you’ve gone through, y’all need someone to take care of you.”

  I’m so touched that words fail me, so I finish my food in silence and insist on cleaning up.

  While I load the dishwasher, Madison walks around the kitchen holding Lea. “I think she wants us to play again.” Madison laughs. “She’s getting fussy.”

  I force myself to smile. I don’t remember ever playing with my baby. I was always so stressed out.

  “How about she plays with her mommy?” I hang a dishcloth on the sink and stretch out my arms.

  Madison shakes her head. “No. You go and take a nap. Momma needs her rest.”

  “No, really, I feel much stronger today.”

  “Oh, Delia, you don’t look it. Sometimes the body is exhausted and the mind don’t even know it.”

  In the end, I give in and go to my bedroom to call Anita.

  “How was your session with Dr. Wilkinson?”

  “It was fine. She’s easy to talk to.” I want to tell Anita that I felt uncomfortable when Kelly asked about my childhood, but I don’t want her to wonder what I’m hiding. I don’t have to tell her about my decision just yet.

  “Great. How are you feeling now?”

  “Calmer, I guess.” I lower my head onto the pillow. “By the way, when I came home, Madison had made lunch.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. She made mac and cheese from scratch. I told her not to help out around the house, but she insists.”

  “Then let her.” Anita pauses. “Do you have to pay her more?”

  “Apparently not. I wouldn’t be able to afford it anyway.”

  “Well then, it looks like you’re in luck. Make the most of it. Try to get as much rest as possible so that when you get back to work you’ll feel refreshed. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

  “You’re right.” The me
mory of Anita pacing in her bedroom with a bottle of whiskey in her arms comes to mind. The urge to say something grows inside me. “How are you, Anita?” I say before I can stop myself.

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “I mean, how have you been lately?”

  “I’m okay.” She lets out a low chuckle that sounds strained. “I don’t feel the need to drink, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Are you still going to your meetings?”

  There’s a silence before Anita responds. “I didn’t go last week, but I’m going tomorrow. And I really don’t feel the urge to drink. Delia, you don’t have to worry about me. You have enough on your plate.”

  “Okay. Just know that I’m here for you.” Even though she’s trying to convince me she’s okay, something about her voice makes me doubt she’s telling the truth.

  After my call with Anita, I surprise myself by sleeping away most of the day. When I open my eyes, it’s dark outside and the house is way too quiet.

  I tiptoe across the hall to Lea’s nursery and find Madison sitting in the armchair, holding her, her lips pressed to her forehead. Both their eyes are closed.

  I back away, feeling as though I’m intruding in some way. But why? Why do I feel uncomfortable whenever Madison is holding Lea?

  Walking back to my bedroom, I remind myself that this is what I wanted, a chance to breathe again. That’s exactly what Madison is giving me. Instead of feeling insecure, I should be grateful.

  But it would be so much easier if I could silence the alarm bells inside my head.

  Chapter 7

  May comes and goes, leaving behind scorching heat. While some things have changed, others have remained the same. Although I have more time to sleep, the nightmares still keep me up at night.

  Three weeks have gone by since Madison moved in with us. Lea has started to sleep through the night on most nights. Now that she no longer wakes up every one or two hours, I have more energy to comfort her at night. But Madison always beats me to it. Sometimes I wonder if the woman even sleeps.