Noelle still couldn't shake the feeling that had overcome her today. The physical attack may have been over, but the emotional pain had left scars which wouldn't heal. Salt must have been rubbed into them this morning, for the feelings have been more acute than they had been for the past seven months.
Maybe they were, but she had an appointment to keep. Dr. Yvette Moreau, with whom she and Ryan both worked on their psych. rotations, had requested that Noelle begin therapy with her.
Therapy. That was a very scary word. Noelle had been used to providing therapy for others, in her own way. Now that the tables were turned, who cares for the caregiver?
As she walked out of her room into the southern Ontario chill, a different kind of chill began to grab her. The snow fell onto her coat, and she plowed through with her boots to push it away.
Just push the pain away, she told herself. Push it out of my mind and it will go away.
And then it grappled her and pushed her to the ground, just like it did all those months ago.
Sweet Jesus, if You have any mercy at all...
As much as Noelle had suffered from the debilitating flashbacks,
moving on was important to her. If there was a way she could block this from her mind, she could. She closed her eyes and continued walking.
Again. You can do it. Push!
When she got to University Hospital, she let out a deep breath. There was something about these sterile walls which provided a weird source of comfort. She was in familiar surroundings after all.
She looked around the hallway before dashing to the stairs. The adrenaline began to pump. She avoided the elevator because it didn't move fast enough for her. The elevator, to her, produced a feeling of incarceration. Noelle would think it would swallow her alive.
When she got to the stairwell, she progressed slowly, three steps at a time. She thought she'd come crashing down to the hard concrete floor, but the thought of stopping now was more than she could handle.
Take a deep breath. One more time. PUSH!
With a hard panting and the feeling her heart would jump out of her chest, Noelle finally made it to the sixth floor. Pushing the door in front of her, she walked slowly into the hallway. When she got to the receptionist's desk, she smiled wanly.
"Ah, Ms. Armand. Dr. Moreau has been waiting for you. Go ahead and walk right in."
"Thank you."
Along the long corridor of offices, Dr. Yvette Moreau occupied the second door from the left. She wanted to make her patients as comfortable as possible, so she had decorated the surroundings in floral prints and wall posters of Cirque du Soleil. A coffee table was the room's centerpiece, with a tea service on one side and a box of tissues at the other. Behind Dr. Moreau's desk stood ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, all with scholarly journals.
Except for one shelf.
Noelle looked at the seemingly out of place shelf and thought to ask Dr. Moreau about it, but it would have to wait.
"Good morning, Noelle. Please have a seat. I've reviewed your file, and I think we can work well together. Is there anything you'd like to ask, or to know about, before we get started?"
"Well...I just noticed your bookshelves. I've seen the Annals of Psychiatry and the other journals, but I wanted to ask about this one book you have on your desk."
"You mean, Free From Your Past?"
"Yes, that one. I didn't know you read self help books."
"Oh, that. It isn't a self help book. I'm writing a paper for another journal about past life regression. There may be some validity to the idea, and that's what I'm interested in presenting. "
Noelle pondered that thought, then quickly dismissed it.
"I think it may help some patients to find answers in this life by tapping into a former one."
"Really," Noelle replied. "There must have been a serial killer who floated around in one of mine," she said impulsively. After a moment, she had realised what had just been blurted out. Her eyes began to well with tears. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from."
Yvette extended a comforting arm to Noelle's shoulder. "It's OK. It came from all those pent-up emotions inside of you. You're safe here. Go ahead and release them."
"What if I don't want to? Some things are better left unsaid."
As Noelle looked away, Yvette leaned in, her voice a near whisper.
"If you truly believed that, you wouldn't be here. It won't be easy, Noelle. But you'll begin to heal, in good time. I'm here to help you."
*****
As Louisa and Seth were finishing dinner, Seth dropped the bomb. The Vineyards Inn and the winery had been doing well this season, even garnering some rave reviews from the Claypool Chronicle and the local citizenry. Word of mouth began to spread around Ontario's Getaway Country, and both were feeling happy.
Seth, however, was about to drop a major bombshell.
“I've been thinking about changing careers and I have you to thank for that, Louisa.”
“That is what I love about you, Seth. You always get to the point.”
Louisa gazed across the table at him.
“I've admired what you've done with the inn. You've really turned this place around. To think last summer the house was in near ruins. Now look at it. Your grandmother Helena must be smiling down from above.” Seth winked to Louisa.
“Thanks, but my work here is just beginning. We've yet to turn the corner on this place. I can’t take all the credit, you know. Blaine's doing some great work in the kitchen . And Suzanne does her part. I may fuss at her sometimes, but, hey, she's my sister, after all. The work can really drain us, and we'll fight like cats and dogs, but when it all falls into place...when everything comes together, it give us all that the strength to take on more.”
Seth looked right into Louisa’s eyes. The changing shades of hazel were just as he had remembered them all those years ago. Still moody, still clear as a day on Georgian Bay.
“Seth? What are you doing? You seem so...I don't know. Far away.”
“Louisa, I have looked into those eyes a hundred times and I still love what I see.”
Overwhelmed at the attention, Louisa shied away from him and smiled, peering instead into the half full wine glass at his place. That was the thing about her, he thought. She always sees the glass half full instead of half empty.
“How about some wine?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Louisa?” Seth asked in a playful manner.
“If I wanted to get you drunk I 'd have gotten a two-four from the corner store.* It works faster.” They both laughed.
The intense sparks between them were about to catch fire. Neither of them wanted to eat, instead wanting to savor each other rather than the food. Trying to break away from her dreams, she asked Seth about his future.
“Do you have any idea what you want to do? You certainly have an open field to choose from.”
“I don't know. The family has the winery, but it's only a part of my life. It's not my whole life. I want to stop and smell the grapes from time to time. All this stuff about mid-life crises...it's a myth, if you ask me.”
Seth looked lovingly at Louisa. She hesitated for a moment before regaining her composure and returning to the conversation.
“You have a great knowledge of wines and literature. Have you ever thought of about doing some writing? Or maybe going back to teaching? I hear Stephane Armand is thinking about branching out. Maybe you can talk to him about teaching a class at La Cuisine.”
Louisa wanted to turn the subject back to romance but she wanted to take it slow with Seth.
“That sounds interesting. I really enjoy teaching and I 've thought about that. I also hear the Chronicle is looking for a restaurant critic. You and I can try out all the little bistros around here. God only knows Claypool's full of 'em. You work so hard, you deserve to be wined and dined."
Louisa extended a hand and started to speak, but not before Seth took the hand and placed it to his lips. She blushed gently.
"Enough talk about my career plans. I want to talk about a romantic career with you.”
“I had no idea there was an 'us' .”
Louisa could feel her heart skip a few beats. Seth walked over to her, and took her face into his hands.
"There should be a 'you and me', Louisa. We know and respect each other. I adore you. I love your strength, and determination to turn adversity into a tool for change. But more importantly I love you and I want us to make a life together. We have waited far too long.”
She had waited a long time to hear those words. She still exercised caution, though.
“Seth, I think that we should take it one step at a time. I adore you, too. With you I don’t have to apologize for being strong. But I have to admit that I am a bit scared. You are the one thing in my life that is pure bliss and I don’t want to lose that.”
“You're contradicting yourself. You just finished telling me that you feel totally comfortable with me , yet you're afraid that everything will fall apart. It seems to me that the ingredients for a harmonious union are already in place. I don’t want to scare you away. I don’t want to lose you.”
Seth looked away from Louisa. She felt a change of mood in the evening. While she could run a large operation like the inn with ease, she hesitated to become involved with Seth. She loved him but wanted to go slow. Such a wonderful, complicated man. Louisa wanted to be with Seth for as long as she could remember but there were always obstacles.
“The feelings that you inspire in me are heaven sent. I really feel like I can relax with you. But we aren't teenagers anymore.”
Louisa held his hand.
“You said that I make you feel secure. What more do you need? Just tell me and I'll give it to you.”
Louisa paused for a moment. “You and I are at a crossroads in our lives. It is an exciting time for both of us. I 'm not scared of being with you. I'm still cautious, though."
Seth smiled and took Louisa’s hands. “I understand. I don’t ever want you to think that I have taken you for granted. No matter where I have been you have always been in my heart.” Seth leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.
******
The snow outside belted Patrick with a fury. Notre Dame d'Orleans was blanketed with the white stuff, and he felt like he was pushing a tank up a steep hill. The sheer force of the storm threatened to bury him alive.
The rage and determination in his heart battled over the raging storm, and Patrick wasn't sure who would win. The only thing he was sure of was the sudden feeling his body had, coming to life with anticipation. The storm served to enhance that experience. As the wind picked up force, so too did Patrick’s resolve to bring his plan to fruition.
A strong burst of wind knocked him to the ground. He struggled to get back on his feet and opened his mouth to breathe. As the snow quickly filled his mouth, he choked back. The snowball expelled from his throat as he forced himself back up. By now he was growing tired and exhausted from fighting.
The putty in his pocket began to crack, and once it did that, it would no longer be useful.
What to do? He certainly couldn't throw it anywhere. That wouldn't do any good.
Quick. Think fast.
He took the small plastic zippered pouch which originally held the explosive, put the plastic inside, and shoved the whole thing into his pocket.
No good.
Mounting his motorcycle with his hell-bent-on-leather attitude, he sped toward Crimson Lodge with no time to waste.
When he got there, he knocked the door open and inspected the bar. One of the other brothers saw him, and shook hands.
"Brother MacPherson, I see you've come back to us just in time. Can I offer you something to drink?"
"You know my usual. Whiskey, straight up. I want to feel the burn."
Patrick's lodge brother poured the request and set the glass onto the counter. As Patrick took the swig, he indeed felt the burn...a slow, lingering one which set his throat on fire. It was a good burn, though, since the aftermath left him with a chill he thought refreshing, though it couldn't be nearly as cold as the impending storm outside.
“Nothing ever works out the way it's supposed to," Patrick growled. "People have forgotten that there is supposed to be a natural order, a purpose, and a chosen leader. Everything is in a downward spiral."
"I hear you."
“ I have my cause, though. I'm committed to it. So many people want prestige and wealth for their accomplishments. Who needs it? This dollar here," Patrick spun a loony around on the bar. He and his lodge brother watched it as it pirouetted, then decelerated and dropped onto the varnished wooden surface below.
"It's nothing." Patrick went on to demonstrate a classic sleight-of-hand parlor trick. "Now you see it." He passed his hand over the coin in his other hand. "Now you don't."
"Life is just like that magic trick I just did. An illusion. You wanna know why? Because...people... they're afraid. They've been lulled into a false sense of security. They go about their lives without any knowledge of what was and what could be. They aren’t willing to make any sacrifices. That is why they need people like us to show them the true way. There has to be pain before the glory.”
Patrick looked up at his brother, who was smiling. Was there something else they knew?
*two-four= case of beer, 24 cans, hence the name.
Corner store=convenience store.
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