Handle with Care (6 page)

Abby
swallowed hard and then stood so she could be face-to-face. “Chloe has lost a
lot, Craig, but she has you. The people my patient killed? Most of them also
had families. I’m not the one who caused your wife's death, but I am the one
who caused the death of several parents, and even two children. So please,
don't tell me it can be simple, that I can walk away from all of it and live my
life. People are right to remind me of who I am! People are right to judge me.”
She blinked back tears, determined to keep control of her emotions.

“No,
Abby,” he countered, reaching for her hand, “they're trying to make sense out
of something horrible.
Wanting to find an
explanation that makes it less random. I know. I've done it, too. But it
doesn't work. In the end, nothing changes what has happened, or who is to
blame.”

Abby's
eyes widened slightly as she studied him. His words triggered the therapist in
her.
Was it possible he blamed himself for Rachel's death?

“Please,
come with me,” he invited. “Chloe’s at school and I have the day off. I want to
show you something, a place that’s special to me. I think you might like it,
too.”

The
last thing Abby wanted to do was go out and face the world. But the
psychologist Craig had awakened with his words, nagged her. Usually, the last
thing you want when you are depressed and anxious, is exactly what you should
be doing.

“Fine,”
she agreed, but didn’t seem overly pleased. Craig, thrilled to have her
consent, didn’t mind her hostility as he led her off the boat.

* * *

Chapter 8 ~ Where Gods Play
According to the compass on his rear view mirror, Craig drove north, then a bit
west, pulling into a small off-road parking lot that seemed out of place. As he
exited the truck, Abby noted her surroundings. There were no amenities, no
benches, not even a garbage can.
What have I gotten myself into?
Craig
motioned her toward a small brown sign, a trail marker. She followed him onto
the path, her eyes glued to the trail, avoiding obstacles; she followed his
footsteps for several minutes. Abby stopped abruptly to survey their destination
and was completely taken aback. The trailhead led to a large expanse of sand,
reminiscent of desert; sand that seemed to go on forever. The hills and gullies
appeared to undulate, as though they were a creature responding to the whims of
the wind and the sea
.
As if the waves had
breached the sand, and with the help of the wind, molded the land; then
continued to roll. Abby had never seen anything like it, never felt anything
like it. It was quiet here, peaceful and serene, empty yet full. It called to
her...
The terrain was barren, sparsely populated with tufts of grasses and conifers.
Small pools of water – undoubtedly trapped by the sand
–
formed private little swimming holes. The air smelled crisp, clean and
salty; the distant sound of the ocean rushing, an inviting serenade. A gentle
breeze whistled a song to be felt, not heard. The sun warmed the scene just so,
complimenting perfection. Not a soul was in sight. Seagulls cackled overhead,
her only companions aside from tracks left by a cottontail long since gone, and
Craig. Abby sighed as she took in a deep breath of the cool, fresh ocean air.
She was lost in the moment and embraced it. A kindred spirit lived in this
place. It pulled her close to its bosom, and she wanted to stay.

Craig
reached for her hand. He tried to hide his surprise when she allowed him to
take it. Loosely clasp, together they walked to the peak of one of the larger
dunes, one with a perfect view of the beach.

“This
is where I come, sometimes,” Craig admitted, “when I need a reminder.”

“A
reminder?” Abby asked. She watched the way the ocean stretched out, unending.
The varied blues of the sky reminding her how vast their world was. It was
exhilarating to not feel trapped, or held down.

“Even
though the grief, the pain, the injustice of it all seems endless, in
perspective it’s just one grain of sand,” he spoke gently. Then he crouched
down, still holding her hand in his. With his other hand, he swept up a handful
of sand and held it out to her. She crouched down, joining him.

“To
us, the hurdles in our lives are as fierce and as huge as the ocean. But to the
ocean, our problems are as tiny as one grain of sand.” He glanced up at her to
see if she understood, or even agreed. Abby watched the sand trail through his
long fingers. It was soothing to watch all the little specks disperse so
easily, and think of them as her challenges. But her burdens were not made from
sand, nor were they mere waves. They would not disappear so easily.

“What
if your problem
is a tidal wave?” Abby
questioned in a whisper, pulling her eyes from the falling sand to meet his
tender gaze. “Wouldn't you be better off letting yourself drown than fighting
the inevitable?”

“Never!”
he replied, as he stared passionately back at her. “Never, because it takes
every single one of these grains of sand to create this paradise, Abby. And
you’re part of it. No matter how much you think differently… you are part of
someone's paradise.”

Abby
laughed at that idea and shook her head as a light breeze blew the ends of her
ponytail across her face. “No, there's no one like that in my life.”

“Not
even your family?” Craig asked carefully. “Not even one little girl, who looks
at you and thinks you are the most amazing woman she has ever met?” Abby
cringed; she knew he meant Chloe. Then he inched a little closer, his lips
dangerously near hers. “Or a man who never thought he could care so deeply
about anyone again?”

Before
she could answer, his lips caressed hers gingerly in the most tentative of
kisses. There was barely any pressure to it, more of a light touch, like the
trail of a fingertip. Abby had dated a few men, but never in her life had she
been kissed so subtly, so sweetly.

“Craig,”
she whispered as he drew his mouth away from hers, “I'm not who you think I
am,” she insisted, her eyes tearing as her gaze met his.

“You
are exactly who I
know
you to be,” he replied, standing up and drawing
her up with him. Before them was the wide expanse of ocean; below them was the
rise of sand created by the wind’s
sheer force.
He felt that power surge through him, as if nature had created this place, this
moment, just for them. He turned his head to face her once more, as if he might
kiss her again, but Abby turned and embraced him instead. She rested her cheek
against his, as his arms tightened around her, savoring the connection.

“Craig,
I'll never be Rachel,” she whispered beside his ear. His entire body stiffened
at her words. She realized then she might have said too much. He pulled back
from her
,
abruptly severing their physical
connection, and stared hard at the sky above them. She watched a maze of
expressions move over his face as Craig weighed his next words.

“Why
would you say something like that?” he questioned finally, his voice strong
enough to carry over the wind around them.

“Because,”
Abby winced. She knew what she had to say was not going to make him happy, but
felt it needed to be
out in the open. He had
done so much to help her, perhaps in this small explanation she could give back
to him. “It seems to me like you have it in your head if you find a way to save
me, in a way, you'll be saving her.”

His
face paled. The laughter escaping his lips was more cruel than amused. He shook
his head as he glanced away from her. “Wow, you really think you're some great
shrink, don't you?” he lifted his gaze
,
his
dark green spheres hardening as they struck hers.

“Craig,
I didn't mean anything by it, I just-” Abby floundered as she attempted to
explain.

“You
just thought you had me all figured out,” he said quietly, and lowered his eyes
back to the ground.
A soft breeze swept over
the dunes, ruffling his curls. He looked as if he were trying to decide whether
to stay, or leave. What he wanted to say, he thought might be better left
unspoken. In the end, his need to connect with Abby won out.

 “Rachel
was an amazing woman.” His voice was as a whisper. “She was everything - fun,
lively, compassionate, loving.” His eyes misted over as he glanced up at Abby,
and then away again just as swiftly.

“She
was so much more than I could have ever dreamed of. On top of that, she was a
wonderful mother.” His voice trembled as he took a step back toward Abby. “And
do you want to know when I figured all of that out?”

Abby
did her best to maintain eye contact despite the raw emotion and fury flooding
his gaze. “I figured it all out after her casket was in the ground. Because when
she was alive, I was too damn busy to even notice! I was too focused on
everything I needed to control, to mold into what I wanted, to even appreciate
the amazing woman I had the dumb luck of marrying. So don't tell me I think
helping you heal will somehow allay the truth of my own stupidity.” Craig
deflated before her eyes as he had spoken. Baring himself, cutting open his own
heart to show Abby the truth of his loss.

Spent,
he continued in a softer voice, “She lived and she died. My biggest regret is I
let those precious moments pass me by, as if they were nothing… as if a kiss
from her could be routine, as if her love and loyalty was something I expected,
instead of savored. So, yes, when I look at you,” he swallowed thickly as he
swept his gaze over Abby, still confused by the emotions she stirred up within
him, “I am thinking of Rachel, but only because I know not to make the same
mistake twice.”

Abby's
eyes flooded with tears as he reached up to cup her cheek with his palm. “But
that's it, Craig, I'm none of those things. I appreciate the generosity of your
affection, of your attention… But, no matter what you tell yourself, it’s never
going to change who I am or what I've done.”

Craig
smiled sadly into her eyes and studied her intently. “One of these days, and
hopefully soon, you’re going to realize there’s nothing about you that needs to
be changed, Abby. Because when I look at you, I see truth. When you look at
yourself, all you see are the lies they’ve fed you.”

Abby
was silent as she stared into his eyes. His words were deep, sweet and loving;
she wanted to believe them. She wanted to return to a place where she believed
in herself, where she thought she deserved love and would eventually have it.
Yet, her life’s plan, and every girlish dream, had come to a screeching halt.

“What
I did -” she gasped, her body shaking with each word she spoke.

“What
he did,” Craig corrected her sternly while sliding his hand along the small of
her back, swaying her body closer to his, so she could not look away. “What
he
did,” he repeated and stroked his gaze across her features, which were
crumpled in grief. “You can't take his guilt for him, Abby, no matter how much
you want to. ‘He was just a kid’ - that's what you tell yourself, but you know
he wasn't. He was a grown man. He made a terrible choice, not because of
anything you did, or said, or didn’t say, but because of what he had been
forced to do.”

Abby
shook her head and leaned against the rise of his chest, feeling the warmth of
his body seep into her skin.

“I
should’ve been able to help him.” She groaned into his shirt. Her body trembled
violently at the force of her despair, helplessness tearing through her. “It
was my responsibility to help him.”

“And
you did.” Craig inhaled as his arms wound around her, holding her close. “You
gave him understanding and a supportive ear. You gave him a place he could feel
safe, and shared his pain. You treated him and maintained your professional
boundaries. You couldn’t do everything for him, Abby – that would be against
your profession’s rules. You gave all of that to him, but he was the one who
refused to embrace it.”
Craig paused for a moment. “Why did he refuse it, Abby? Tell me. Why did he
refuse your help, your direction on how to reassemble his life?” His tone
became a little harsher, indicating he expected an answer.

Abby
could only shake her head as she sobbed.

“Tell
me, why?” He encouraged, stroking one hand down through her hair, pulling free the
tie which held her ponytail so her brown locks could flow down over her
shoulders.

Abby’s
chest heaved with the force of her grief. He grasped her arms gently and pushed
her away from his chest, forcing her to look up at him. He did not ask again,
instead only stared down into her tear-flooded eyes.

Abby
didn’t want to face her demons; she’d been running from them for months. It was
simpler not to acknowledge the feelings or realizations that burned in her.
Craig’s words focused what were abstract and distant thoughts. She couldn’t
contain it anymore; her conscious convicted her. “Because he didn't feel he
deserved it. He believed he didn’t deserve salvation because he couldn’t
forgive himself for the things he had done.” She reached up to cover her mouth
as the dawning horror rushed through her. She was doing the exact same thing.

Craig
held her firmly as he looked into her eyes. "And is this how you intend to
live the rest of your life?" He watched the eureka moment light up her
eyes. "Can you really tell me you believe it is healthy for you to think
of yourself that way?" Abby shook her head slightly as her emotions roiled
within her, threatening to overflow once more. Craig wound a strand of her hair
gently around one of his fingers and gave it a slight tug. "Punishing
yourself will not bring anyone back," he whispered. "Trust me, I have
tried." Fresh tears glazed his eyes as he looked at her. "The past is
over and done with, Abby. What you have is now, this moment, today, and what it
can lead to. Is that something you want to throw away?"

Abby
lowered her eyes. She knew his words rang with truth, but was not sure if she
could accept them. She had spent so much time believing she was the terrible
person everyone had accused her of being. Yet, even now, Craig knew what had
happened and he did not see her that way. Since he was one of the kindest
people she had ever met, she respected his opinion.