LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

with his glare. “Not going there, Oprah.” They could force his attendance, but no one could make him talk.

      She sat relaxed, unintimidated by his death ray. That was odd. “I understand. Hopefully once we all get to know each other, you’ll feel more comfortable opening up. Next?”

      The kid beside Bear perked right up. “I’m Bryan. I’m gay,” he chirped in a crisply enunciated voice.

      Now there’s a news flash.

      “I was the victim of a hate crime. My boyfriend and I went to dinner. A gang of mouth-breathers jumped us in the restroom.” His voice got wobblier as he went. “Curtis tried to fight them off, but...” He sniffed. “It was horrible. I just don’t understand how people can...” He put his fingers to his mouth and shook his head, eyes liquid.

      Great. A drama queen.

      “Bryan, thank you. Hopefully this group will help you come to terms with your experience.” Bina looked to the soap opera woman. “Next?”

      The woman stared at the carpet, her oily hair curtaining her face. She mumbled something unintelligible.

      “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

      “I’m Brenda. I don’t need to be here.”

      “And what brought you to us?”

      “The court made me come, too.” She slanted a skittish glance in Bear’s direction, then focused again at the floor. “They gave me a choice—this or a battered women’s program. But that’s not me, so I came here.”

      Bina allowed the silence to spin out until Brenda looked up. “Thank you, Brenda. I look forward to hearing more about that.” She looked to the scarred dude. “Next?”

      “I’m Mark. And no, I’m not wearing a mask.” He looked around, his weak chuckle dangling in the air.

      No one laughed.

      “I was in a car wreck. Went through the windshield.” He raised his hands. “There goes the shaving cream commercial.”

      Silence.

      His shoulders slumped. “I can’t sleep. Going out in public is excruciating.” He tucked his hands in his armpits and shrugged. “I’m to have a series of surgeries, but in the meantime, I have to...deal.”

      “Good, Mark. Congratulations on getting here today. That in itself is a big step.”

      When Bina looked to his angel, Bear leaned in.

      “I’m Hope. I’m a...was a bank manager.” She sat straight, hands working in her lap. “I was kidnapped and—”

      “I heard about that!” Bryan chirped. “Oh, honey, what you went through!”

      Bina’s eyebrow lifted. “Let’s let her tell it, shall we?”

      “Sorry.”

      “Go ahead, Hope.”

      “Three men broke into my apartment and after a long, awful wait until morning, they made me drive to the bank and open the safe. There was a standoff with the police and I was shot. I was released from the hospital ten days ago.” She spoke as if discussing the weather.

      Bina said, “That’s a very traumatic thing to go through. Hopefully we can help you put it behind you.”

      “I don’t want to put it behind me. That’s not why I’m here.”

      Bina lowered the pen she’d been taking notes with. “So why are you here?”

      “Because I think I’m going crazy.”

      Bear knew a bit about PTSD. He studied the woman for signs. Her hands shook a bit, but he didn’t note a startle reflex or jerky movements. But then, he’d known this woman all of ten minutes, all of them silent.

      “What makes you think that?” Bina’s soft voice was calming, but it wasn’t working on this girl.

      She threw up her hands. “I can’t go back to my apartment. I can’t go back to my job. I can’t go back to my life. Not after everything that’s happened.” She rolled her lips in and down, thinking a moment. “I feel like I’ve got amnesia. Except I remember everything.” She glanced around the circle. “My old life isn’t mine anymore. The future is a blank wall.”

      Bina picked up her pen. “Since the past can’t be changed, all anyone can do is move forward. We’ll try to help you explore what you want your new life to be, Hope.” She clipped the pen to the small notebook and uncrossed her legs. “This group brings together people that normally wouldn’t be in the same group. As I said before, this is an experiment. I believe however, your diverse experiences can lend you all insight to help each other, as you seek solutions yourselves.”

      Bina gave them her bio, and how she came to the idea of the group. More blah-blah, as far as Bear was concerned. Finally, she smiled at each of them. “I hope you prove me right. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

      All but the therapist stood and headed for the door. Bear waited until he could bring up the rear. They shot glances and smiles at each other as they walked down the hall in that awkward, what’s-appropriate-in-this-situation, getting-to-know-you, dance.

      He watched his angel—Hope—walk away. She dressed a step above the rest—neat and tidy in slacks, a blouse and loafers. Clearly a “good girl.” What did it mean, meeting someone who so closely resembled a symbol that sustained him? He didn’t believe in fate any more than he believed in the saints, sacraments or shrines of his Catholic upbringing.

      But he hadn’t believed in prophetic dreams before, either.

      As if feeling his regard, she shot a nervous glance over her shoulder. He fell back a step or two, for once sorry for his size and appearance which kept people at bay. If he followed and tried to talk to her, at best, she’d think him a stalker.

      Better he just watch and wait. It wasn’t as if she’d know the answer to any of his questions anyway.

      * * *

      TWO MINUTES AFTER Hope stepped into the sunny summer day, Jesse’s pretty black truck pulled up at the curb. Hope opened the door, tripped and stumbled into the blinding-bright poodle skirt–pink seat covers. “I appreciate this Jess, but I could have driven myself.”

      Jesse, eyes hidden behind movie star shades, waved her red manicure. “Are you kidding? I have the afternoon off. Who better to spend it with? Besides, we’re on a mission.”

      Hope buckled her seat belt, then stroked the pink fuzzy dice that hung from the mirror. “I’ve searched through the paper, Jess. The only places for rent are the same generic apartments I was in before.” Shivering, she aimed the A/C duct at the ceiling, though she wasn’t cold. “I can’t move into one of those.”

      Jesse checked her mirror, then pulled away from the curb and headed for the exit. “Well, then it’s a good thing your cousin owns The Farmhouse Café, Widow’s Grove equivalent of the office watercooler.” She pulled onto King’s Highway and headed out of Santa Maria.

      “You know of someplace else that’s for rent?” Hope squinted through the glare at the green hills she’d loved since the first time she’d seen them, six years ago.

      “Not just someplace.” Jesse winked. “I know the place.”

      “But how could you, when I don’t even know what I’m looking for?” All Hope knew was that everything she’d seen so far reminded her way too much of her old place.

      “Trust me, sweetie. I know this place. It’s perfect. You’ll see.”

      “I hope so. I feel bad, putting you and Carl out, taking up your guest room.”

      Eyes on the road, Jesse felt for Hope’s hand. Finding it, she squeezed. “You’re my cousin, and I love you. Frankly, I wish you’d stay with us permanently.”

      “Oh,

Скачать книгу