The Heat of the Moon: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) (18 page)

***

Another two weeks went by before I found the courage to tell Mother that, yes, I would like her to hypnotize me and help me recover my early childhood memories.

Chapter Eighteen

What I remembered afterward was Mother knocking softly at my door, then entering and coming to stand behind my chair as I sat at the dresser.

I remembered the light touch of her hands on my shoulders and her affectionate smile in the mirror. “Look at us,” she said. “We’re more alike every day.”

I remembered the feeling of words stifled in my mouth, the choke of unshed tears in my throat. Our images looked back at us. My face, hers, undeniably similar.

She fingered the muscles of my shoulders. “You’re so tense. We’ll have to do a long relaxation sequence. You’re not afraid, are you? I’ll be with you all the way.”

I couldn’t remember whether I answered. 

I stretched out on my couch. It was just long enough; my head and feet pressed against its arms. Mother wanted to conduct the hypnosis session in her office, but I’d insisted on doing it here in my room.

As her voice murmured soothing words, I felt myself relaxing into drowsiness almost against my will. Afterward I remembered how terribly sleepy I felt then, and how I fought against giving in and letting myself drift away.

I was vaguely aware of getting into bed some time later, Mother tucking the sheet over my shoulders, saying, “Good night, sweetheart, sleep well.”

Then it was morning and I opened my eyes to a slash of sunlight on the carpet by the bed.

***

Luke cornered me at the medications pantry. “Will you tell me what the hell happened?” he whispered.

I took a vial of brownish-yellow liquid from the refrigerator. “I have to get this vaccine ready,” I said. “My client’s waiting with her cat—”

He caught my arm, made me look at him. “Rachel,” he said. “What did she do to you? Why are you suddenly treating me like poison?”

Looking at his boyish, worried face brought a wash of bewildering emotions that I couldn’t begin to deal with. I squirmed my arm free. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Your mother, for God’s sake. What did she—”

“Please let me do my work. Please.” Turning my attention to the vaccine, I inserted the needle into the vial and drew liquid into the syringe. I was surprised that my hands were so steady when I was shaking to pieces inside.

I felt him studying me. I couldn’t meet his eyes. The urge to reach out and touch him was almost overpowering, but something held me back, something stronger than an awareness of where we were. He was too much a part of the turmoil I’d been swept up in lately. He’d prodded me to do things I wouldn’t have done otherwise.

He was dangerous. I had to free myself of his influence.

“We’re going to talk about this,” he said, “and we’re going to do it soon. I’m going to find out—”

He stopped when Alison walked by, smiling merrily at us in passing.

I closed the pantry door and stepped away. “My patient’s waiting.”

***

Days passed. I was crisply efficient at work but drifting the rest of the time. At unguarded moments the longing for Luke surged through me like a current, setting every numbed nerve on fire again and nearly knocking me off-balance. I stamped down hard on that unwelcome desire, told myself I was well out of it, that getting involved with my boss had been a bad idea from the start. I avoided him at the clinic and refused to talk to him when he called me at night.

At breakfast and dinner I sat with my mother and sister, and it seemed to me that Mother was more cheerful than I’d seen her in weeks. I kept quiet except when Mother spoke to me directly, then I gave a polite answer to whatever I imagined her question had been. Her expression told me I didn’t always guess right.

***

Luke grabbed my arm, yanked me into the staff lounge and slammed the door behind us. I was on my way in to hang up my white coat before going home. He’d been waiting for me just inside the room and I hadn’t seen him until it was too late.

“You’re going to listen to me,” he said.

I tried to move away from him. He shoved me back and pinned me against the wall, his hands gripping my wrist and shoulder.

“Now listen.” His face was inches from mine, his breath hot on my cheek.

I averted my head. I wouldn’t let myself look in his eyes.

“Try to remember what happened, Rachel. Try, damn it! You set up a tape recorder before your mother hypnotized you. You recorded the whole thing. Don’t you remember that?”

I looked at him now. My thoughts were a jumble, but his words struck a faint chord. “Why?” I said. “Why would I do that?”

I felt his hands loosen. He released me as if I were a squirming animal that had decided to cooperate.

“You wanted to find out what she’d say to you while you were under,” he said. “Remember?”

“No.” I tried to slip past him, but he was too quick for me, and I found myself pressed against the wall again. “Let me go. What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to talk some sense into you if I have to keep you here all night.”

“Let me go!” Using my whole body, I shoved, but all I did was rock him backward for a second. He was stronger than I was.

“You remember the tape recorder, don’t you?” he said. “Rachel, look at me, listen to me! You told me you were going to hide it behind some pictures and a stack of books on a table next to the couch. Is it still there? Have you moved it?”

I stopped struggling. The tape recorder. New batteries. New tape. Put it in, test it.
Testing one two three.
Yes. But why?

“Jesus Christ, Rachel. What’s she done to you this time?”

His hands relaxed again. Moving cautiously, I slid sideways along the wall a few inches. He didn’t stop me.

His eyes were bleak. “Will you look for the recorder? Will you listen to the tape? Maybe then you’ll—”

I strode away from him, fumbled with my locker’s combination, plucked my shoulderbag off its hook. A moment later I was at the door and out, still wearing my lab coat.

***

Somehow I got home safely, without an instant’s awareness of the drive. Rosario, finishing up dinner in a kitchen redolent of thyme and basil, spoke a greeting I half-heard and didn’t respond to. I climbed the stairs unwillingly, yet unable to stop myself.

I found the recorder on the table, hidden in a stack of books, its microphone behind a picture of Theo and Renee. At the sight of it a chasm seemed to open under my feet, dark and bottomless, nothing solid beneath me.

It came back to me now, with a sharp punch of clarity. What I’d suspected, what I’d set out to prove. 

I lifted the little machine from its hiding place. Popping open the lid, I saw the tape had recorded all the way to the end.

I sat on the couch for long minutes, turning the tape over and over in my fingers. I could listen to it or I could throw it away and never face what might be on it.

When I realized it was almost six o’clock and Mother would be home soon, I roused myself and made a decision. I pulled my cell phone from my purse and called Luke at the clinic.

***

I reached his apartment before he did. Although I still had a key, I didn’t feel entitled to use it. I waited for him outside his door. When he emerged from the elevator and strode down the hall I watched him with a peculiar detachment, as if this tall lanky man had nothing to do with me.

He stopped when he reached me, his lively eyes scanning for clues to my state of mind. I felt as if I’d left myself at home and sent my empty body on this errand.

Luke’s gaze dropped to my hand, which held the tape up between us. “You didn’t listen to it yet?”

I shook my head.

He slid a key into the lock and pushed the door open, stepping aside to let me pass.

While he switched on lights, found his cassette player, and brought me a glass of ice water, I sat on the living room sofa clutching the tape. He had to gently pry my fingers loose so he could slide the tape into the player and rewind it.

“You ready?” he said, a finger on the play button.

I nodded.

Our indistinct voices became clearer as Mother and I moved closer to the recorder. Reassuring, almost cheerful, she told me to lie down and relax, she was with me, she would be with me every second, I had nothing to fear. I pictured myself stretched out on the couch, Mother beside me in the chair pulled over from the dresser.

“Take a deep breath and let it out very slowly. Yes, that’s right. Breathe deeply, in and out. In and out. You can feel your body beginning to relax. You’re beginning to feel peaceful, so peaceful and relaxed.”

Her voice murmured on, guiding me through the relaxation process for each part of my body. There was no sound from me.

“Now I’m going to count backward from twenty. With every number I speak, you’ll feel yourself going deeper and deeper, until you reach the deepest level.”

As I sat beside Luke, listening to Mother count, I began to drift away. Luke shook me hard and I gasped, blinking at his worried face.

“I thought I was losing you for a minute.” He’d stopped the tape. “Can you listen to the rest of this? Will you be all right?”

I nodded. “I’m okay. I have to hear it.”

He hesitated, doubtful, but after a moment he switched the tape on again.

Mother continued counting backward. When she reached the number one, a brief silence followed. She said, very softly, “Rachel? Can you hear me?” 

A faint “Yes” from me.

“You’ve been very upset and confused, Rachel. Would you like to feel better? Would you like to feel peaceful again, Rachel?”

A pause, then another murmured “Yes.”

“You want to be happy. You want to put aside all the thoughts that have made you unhappy. Wouldn’t you like to put away all those bad thoughts and never be troubled by them again?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to help you? No, Rachel, don’t sit up, lie down, lie down, that’s right. Relax.”

A whimper that must have come from me.

“I’m your mother, Rachel. You know that, don’t you?”

Silence.

“I’m your mother. Your name is Rachel Goddard and you are my daughter. You know that, don’t you?”

Silence.

“Rachel?” Coaxing. “Your name is Rachel Goddard and you’re my daughter. You believe that, don’t you?”

At last, weakly, “Yes.”

“Tell me again. Your name is Rachel Goddard and you’re my daughter. Is that right?”

“Yes.” Stronger now, definite.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“Yes.” With no hesitation.

“I’ve been a good mother to you, haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to be happy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to please me?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to upset me and make me ill, do you?”

A rustling sound, movement.

“Rachel, let your body relax. Lie back, yes, that’s right, lie back and relax. Breathe deeply, in and out, in and out. With every breath you feel more and more calm and relaxed. Your whole body is completely relaxed. Completely relaxed.”

Her voice was quiet, unhurried, soothing. “Rachel,” she said, “I know you want to stay close to Michelle and me. I know you won’t let anyone come between us. You want us to be happy together, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I know you love your sister and your mother, and you won’t let anyone turn you against us. You won’t let Luke Campbell turn you against your mother and sister, will you?”

I said nothing.

“Rachel, does Luke ask questions about our family?”

Still I didn’t answer.

“Do you tell him things about our family?” 

When I failed to answer again, she said, “I won’t be angry if you tell me the truth, sweetheart.”

Words burst from me in a strangled childish cry, “You will! You’ll be mad at me!”

“No, no, I won’t. Don’t be upset. I won’t be mad at you.”

A sound like weeping. A deep sigh from Mother.

“Rachel, you know what you have to do, don’t you? You have to protect your family. You can’t let an outsider make your family unhappy. You have to protect your family from Luke. Will you do that?”

A ragged sob.

“I know you will. I know you don’t want him to come between you and your family. Don’t cry, Rachel, don’t cry, sweetheart, he’s not worth crying over.”

After a gulping intake of breath I fell silent.

Mother let a moment pass, then said, “Rachel, thinking about your father is very upsetting to you. You don’t want to think about him anymore.”

Statements, not questions.

“You know that talking about him upsets me too. When you talk about him you make me remember terrible things. You don’t want to upset me. You don’t even want to think about him anymore. Do you, Rachel? You want to put him out of your mind, don’t you?”

“Yes.” A whisper.