“I suppose,” she said. “Whatever you’re giving me is an improvement over what Dr. Schizak gave me.”
“That was a combination of Mellaril and Haldol. I don’t know how you even got out of bed. I prescribed something that has less tranquilizing effect and isn’t an antipsychotic. I thought there was a fair chance your confusion, memory lapses and voices were induced by anxiety-provoked insomnia. Go long enough without sufficient sleep and your brain will conjure anything.”
“Anxiety?” Sedona said.
Dr. Tayama nodded. “It’s a smorgasbord of issues. Anxiety that produces isolation and sometimes antisocial behavior, insomnia, depression. Add to that some OCD. I’m still not sure if it’s the chicken or the egg—was your OCD severe enough to cause anxiety or did your anxiety lead you to attempt to control your environment as though you had OCD? In any case, to be conservative, I wanted to try a drug for anxiety and one for OCD. They behave as well as an antidepressant with some sedative side effects, just not as severe. It seems to be working. You seem alert and rested.”
“But Dr. Schizak said I was schizophrenic!”
Dr. Tayama shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think you told Dr. Schizak you were schizophrenic, like your father, when in fact you had a few symptoms that masqueraded as that disorder.”
Sedona pushed back into her chair. “Anxiety!” she said. She laughed as if in relief. “Of all the—”
“It can be very serious, as you can attest. You’re not out of the woods, Sedona. Anxiety and OCD have complicated your life, your relationships, your peace of mind, even some cognition. You have work to do. Drug therapy and counseling.”
“But it’s just anxiety!” she said emphatically.
“You thought about suicide,” Dr. Tayama reminded her. “The anxiety was so alienating and frustrating it caused depression. Not following a treatment plan—”
“I think I’ll go home now,” Sedona said abruptly as she stood to leave.
“Please take a seat and hear me out,” the doctor said. “If you leave now it will be exiting a mental health hospital against medical advice. You don’t have the best pharmaceutical protocol in place. I can’t just write you a prescription or give you a handful of pills. You need treatment, Sedona. Anxiety isn’t a state of mind, it’s a brain chemistry issue, just like depression or schizophrenia. You are not in control. Not yet. But your prognosis is good.”
“I’ll be fine now. Now that I know it’s not my father’s disease the anxiety will go away.”
“Not likely,” the doctor said. “You’re a psychologist, Sedona. You know severe anxiety isn’t nervousness or phobia...”
“I spent years recommending behavior modification for students with test anxiety and it’s been very successful. Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been a lifesaver!”
“I realize you’re feeling much better but leaving treatment now is a very big risk. I think we should talk with your husband or siblings, arrange for aftercare, get you set up with psychiatric coverage for medication and a good counselor.”
“I can handle it,” she said. “I know exactly what to do!”
The doctor stood but she had to look up to meet Sedona’s eyes. “This has happened before, Sedona. Often with disastrous results. I wish you would stay for a while, let us complete an evaluation so when you do go home you have the best possible opportunity for a better quality of life.”
“I appreciate your effort,” Sedona said. “But I hate it here. Hate it. I want my home, my family, my bed.”
“So would I,” Dr. Tayama confessed. “It won’t be too much longer. Please. You’re not entirely well.”
“I know—my version of normal, you said.”
“It’s manageable. But we need time. You need time. Patience.”
“Thank you. Goodbye, then.”
“Sedona, take my card,” she said. She scribbled on the back. “My cell number in case of an emergency. Call me if you need me.”
Sedona, feeling brand-new, took the card, smiled, turned and left the doctor’s office.
Nan Tayama sighed heavily and followed with her chart. She made a notation and handed it off to the nurse. It was not a locked facility. Sedona could pick up her personal items at the nurse’s station—items they kept locked up mainly to keep them from being lost, borrowed or stolen—her purse, her cell phone, her laptop, her charging cords. About an hour later Dr. Tayama watched from her office window as Sedona, suitcase in hand, opened the back door to what she assumed was a private car company like Uber.
* * *
It was very late on a Saturday night when Dakota held Sid in his arms, in his bed, in his cabin. “When I rented this place, it didn’t cross my mind that it might be a perfect hideaway for lovers.”
“I like it here,” Sid said. She patted his chest. “You’re a wonderful pillow.”
“I’d like to take you somewhere. Away somewhere. You can tell your brother you’re going shopping for a couple of days in Denver and we can—”
She cut him off with laughter. “He would never believe that. Besides, I don’t have to make up a story for Rob. He’s a grown-up. He’s not shocked that I have someone in my life.”
“And the nephews?”
“Well, I explained a couple of weeks ago that I was dating someone. They don’t know you so I just said you were the brother of a friend. I wanted them to know that if I was extra late or even seemed to be missing, I was not kidnapped—I was with you. And if they’re worried, they should call my cell.”
“How’d they take it?” Dakota asked, propped up on an elbow.
“Finn said, ‘Go, Aunt Sid,’ and Sean said, ‘Ew.’ I think that means they both understand what dating means to a thirty-six-year-old woman.”
“So should we go away?” he asked hopefully.
“I suppose we can. Or we can just have breakfast here...”
“You’ll stay the night?” he asked.
“Would that be good?”
“That would be so good,” he said, leaning over her and kissing her again. “I’m willing to grab a little time with you whenever we can but I’d love it if we weren’t on the clock for twenty-four hours.”
“At the moment, I don’t have commitments...”
“Do you have any in the morning?” he asked.
“No,” she said with a laugh. “I did promise to make Sunday dinner for the family. Would you like to come?”
Unbelievably, he blushed. “Sure. I’ve gotten used to Rob giving me that look like I might be debauching his baby sister, but Sean and Finn are at that special age. I don’t know what to expect from them. Could be demoralizing.”
“Debauching,” she repeated. “You did get a good education in the Army. Your vocabulary is very good. I think you should expect ‘Go, Aunt Sid’ and ‘Ew.’ And they might tease, but they don’t scare me.”
“They don’t?”
“Your family was very well behaved. Welcoming, even. They’re cool. I am in love with most of them, especially Sam. Was that a huge surprise to you?”
“Everything around here surprises me,” he admitted. “Cal and Maggie surprise me. Cal was married before. His wife died a very sad and painful death while I was in Iraq. She had scleroderma. That’s when—”
“I know what it is,” she said. “Was that long ago?”
“A couple of years before he met Maggie. And I knew Sierra and Connie talked about fostering kids but I didn’t know they were thinking about adopting. I didn’t know Connie was actually at the accident when Sam’s mother died. I think they did the right thing, getting married right away and pursuing the adoption. I haven’t been as close to my brother and sisters as I should have been. It’s hard when you’re in the military and deployed all the time. Now that I’m around them, they’re pretty cool people. I keep asking myself if they’ve always been and I was missing out.”
“What did you plan to do when you got out of the Army? I know you didn’t pin all your hopes on being a garbage collector.”
“I got out kind of suddenly,” he said. “I used to think maybe I’d teach. I don’t know what—history, maybe. I’d have to go back to school. I never did get a teaching certificate. I studied history and English and political science.”
“English!” she said, surprised.
“I think we all did, all four Jones kids. We didn’t have a TV—we read. We didn’t have many books and we’d read them over and over and then trade them at a used-book store for a new supply. Cal can recite To Kill a Mockingbird, practically the whole book. I noticed that Sierra has a full bookcase now, but there are a few completely worn paperbacks—Pride and Prejudice. Another is Wuthering Heights.”
“And your favorite books?”
“Steinbeck. Hemingway. Jack London.”
“Ah. And did testosterone flow from the pages?”
“Well, I thought so...”
“We have so much to learn about each other,” she said.
“What do you need to know? Do you need to know that I’m in trouble here? Because I’ve known you three months, been this close to you for three weeks, but it hasn’t been often enough. And I already want to sleep with you every night. And not just sleep.”
“Sex really works for you, doesn’t it, Cody?”
“It does, but that’s not really what I was thinking about. I was thinking about rolling over and feeling your soft skin, hearing you breathe—you snore a little. It’s a cute snore. When you fall asleep, you curve against me and put your leg over me. Your hair tickles me. Your hands wander...”
“Do not,” she said.
“Do so,” he argued.
“We still have so much to find out...”
“Tell me what you need to know,” he said. “You know I grew up strange—my parents are beyond crazy. It wasn’t an easy childhood and we all left as soon as we could, the second we got out of school. Cal and Sedona found a way to go to college but I wasn’t that imaginative. I joined the Army.” He brushed back her hair. “Is that what you want to know?”
She looked up at him and smiled. “I want to know who you loved.”
He rubbed her hair back a little longer. “Not yet, okay?”
“Is it very private?” she asked.
“It’s private, yeah,” he said. “That’s not about you. I have this feeling I don’t want to keep things from you. But just not yet, okay?”
“That means you haven’t told your family?”
“That’s what it means. But I don’t want to talk about it right now because I don’t want to be sad. You’re in my arms and I am so happy. Can you give me a little time?”
She raked her fingers through his beard. “It must still hurt.”
“I guess. I want to feel good right now, when you’re here, naked, mine for the night.”
“Reasonable,” she said. “What do you have for breakfast?”
“Bacon, eggs, toast.”
“Do you have fruit and oatmeal?” she asked.
“It never crossed my mind.”
She sighed. “If I’m going to get a pass from my brother and nephews, we’re going to have to stock up.”
“Give me a list, gorgeous, and I’ll get anything you want.”
“Want to explore your woods after breakfast?” she asked. “I brought some outdoor clothes and shoes. In my car.”
“An overnight bag?” he asked with lifted eyebrows.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d say no. And I’m fussy about having my own toothbrush. But I’m afraid I neglected to bring pajamas.”
* * *
Maggie drove to Denver early Tuesday morning and went directly to her practice. She had left Elizabeth with Cal. She had several patients to see in the office, then she was spending the afternoon in surgery—two simple cases and one complex surgery that could last well into evening. In fact, she might have two very long days, which was why she left Elizabeth at home, though she started missing her the minute she left.
It was almost nine in the evening by the time she got to her house in Denver. She had grabbed fish and chips to go from the nearest pub. She planned to eat in bed with the TV on. She put the take-out food in the microwave to warm up while she changed into pajamas. She loved her little house but when it was quiet, like now, she wanted her husband and baby. While she was working, she was glad to be working, but to be away from them when she wasn’t working time seemed to drag.
She was aware that something was different. She couldn’t tell what it was. Back in the kitchen, it was so shining clean. Maggie was tidy but she usually left mail or a book on the counter, maybe a water glass or coffee cup in the sink, but there was not so much as a streak or smudge, not a single fingerprint on the stainless steel.
She opened the pantry and her heart sank. Everything was lined up, neatly, organized by size and color and probably alphabetized. Her house had been scoured. She did not want to see her panties folded into neat little squares. But she was pretty sure Sedona couldn’t help herself.
When they came to Denver together, Sedona had returned her rental car to the airport and spent a couple of days at Maggie’s house. She had unpacked, hung the dress she’d brought for Sierra’s wedding in the guest closet, put her pumps under it on the floor, lined up perfectly, and Maggie had taken her to her doctor’s appointments. When Sedona had agreed to an inpatient evaluation, Sedona had left behind her dress and shoes.
Maggie checked and they were gone.
It was not likely a burglar had broken in and taken them. And scoured her house. Sedona could not have called Cal—Cal would have told Maggie if he’d heard from his sister. While her fish and chips grew cold in the microwave, Maggie found Nan Tayama’s cell phone number in her phone. She texted her. Sedona’s dress and dress shoes are gone from the closet and I suspect something is wrong. My house has been scoured, top to bottom. Do you know anything about this?
She waited a few minutes. The good doctor could have been asleep for all Maggie knew. Finally the answer came. She left our facility last week. She said she was going home.
Maggie knew the rules. Sedona had agreed to hospitalization and had not named anyone to receive information about her medical condition, not even her doctor sister-in-law. But just to be sure she had to ask... Did you discharge her?
I did not, came the reply.
Can you tell me when she left the hospital? Maggie asked.
Thursday. Midday.
And that was all Nan Tayama would be at liberty to say, thanks to HIPAA laws. Maggie thanked her and called Cal. Maggie then called Bob because Cal was clearly flustered. Bob had not heard from his wife. He knew she had agreed to see a doctor in Denver and he had been so hopeful, knew she had decided to stay in an inpatient treatment program, but she hadn’t been in touch. Everyone started dialing her cell number, with no results.
By midnight, it had been established that Sedona was missing and that her mental stability was uncertain. Bob had notified the police on the east coast, since the last anyone had heard she was bound for home, and Maggie contacted the Denver and Colorado police, municipal and state.
* * *
It was quite early in the afternoon when Dakota walked into the bar. He usually couldn’t make it before five on one of his workdays. “Cody!” Sid said. He sat up at the bar in front of her and she looked over each shoulder to see who could be watching, then leaned toward him for a kiss.
“That’s nice,” he said, giving her a half smile. “Right out in public.”
“What are you doing here? Did you get fired?”
“Something came up, Sid. I don’t know where to start to explain. There was something going on with my sister Sedona, when she was here for Sierra’s wedding. Something I didn’t know about. I understand
she didn’t want her siblings to know but somehow Cal and Maggie figured her out. She’s been battling some kind of mental illness and I don’t know how serious it is. That’s yet to be determined, I guess. Our father is schizophrenic but he’s never been treated or medicated, at least not since he was very young. Well,” he said, chuckling without humor, “he’s been smoking pot almost his whole adult life. Keeps the special friends quiet. According to Cal and Maggie, Sedona is not schizophrenic but she has some disorder that could be very serious if she doesn’t get some help and—”
“Oh my God, what’s happened? Spit it out!”
“Maggie got her checked into a psychiatric hospital, where she stayed for ten days, but then she decided she didn’t need to be there, so she checked herself out. She told her doctor she was going home. Bob and the kids are in Connecticut and haven’t heard from her. We can’t find her. The police have been notified. They’ve traced her movements a little bit but then all activity stopped.”
“What activity?” Sid asked.
“Well, she hired an Uber from the hospital to Maggie’s house. She stopped at an ATM, got some cash, stayed at Maggie’s house for a few days, made a plane reservation to go home, hired an Uber to take her to a nice, quiet restaurant, where she had a meal, and that’s where we think we lost her.”
“You think?”
“There was some activity on her credit card but it was all over the place. Someone could have taken her purse or just lifted the card number from the car service or the restaurant. But she isn’t answering her cell, and because she didn’t communicate with anyone, we don’t know if she’s okay or—”
He exhaled. “I’m hoping she’s taking a breather. Apparently there were troubles in the marriage that she didn’t want to talk about, didn’t want to tell me about. I don’t blame her. We’re not close. Maybe she just ran away for a little while.”
Sid shook her head. “From what I saw, Sedona seemed too invested in her family. Even in this Colorado family. Do you know what the doctors said her disorder was?”