In any case I felt a bit awkward standing there with a drink in my hand that was obviously needed to bolster my courage.
"Well. I just... thought... it's been a while since... I mean..."
"Really? What did you do. Claude, get yourself a testosterone booster?" she asked dryly.
I guess my face fell a bit.
She shook her head and stepped back.
"Come in," she said. "I don't see you drinking much anymore or relaxing in any way," she added, nodding at the glass in my hand.
"Yes. I know. I've been so occupied with my work. I..."
"Forgot you were married? I know," she said and laughed. She removed her hair net and shook out her hair a bit, "You're lucky," she said. "Twenty minutes more and you would have been out of luck. I would have my facial set. and I don't think that would have been very attractive to you Loosen your tie, at least. Claude. You look as if you're here to give me therapy," she added and laughed again.
I smiled,
I suppose I was a funny sight standing there in my jacket and tie, my drink in hand, looking more like a meek librarian asking someone to please pay her library debt.
As she spoke to me. Alberta looked at herself in the mirror and primped her hair.
"The first time you and I made love. I thought you were following same sex how-to book. You kept asking me. "Is that all right? Is this all right? It was more like an examination than lovemaking. Claude."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Since then I've taught you a lot and you've become better at it. It's funny that I had to teach a psychiatrist the art of making love, don't you think? You, of all people, should know how important the fantasy is. That's why I have worked so hard to make this room so plush and feminine." she said, gesturing at the velvet drapes, the canopy bed, the gilded mirrors, and the plush carpeting. "I don't know if you even notice what an effort I make. Do you. Claude?"
"Of course I notice. It's a beautiful room. You have done wonders with it." I told her, gazing around and nodding as if it were really the first time I had seen it.
"I'll say I have. I've done wanders with this whole house. Your mother lived as if she didn't have a penny. Some of the things in this house were literally rotting away when I first came here to live with you. Claude. I was surprised your father didn't have more pride in his home. He did have people visiting often, didn't he?"
"Oh, yes."
"They must have been very disappointed with what they found. Now, at least, this is the home of a successful doctor and we don't have to be
embarrassed. I wouldn't have it look any less, but do you appreciate that?"
"I do. Alberta. I might not show it because I'm so involved in my work, but I do." I protested.
She smirked. "It's all right if you don't. I appreciate enough for the both of us," she said. "So"-- she continued turning to me and undoing her nightgown. "you remembered you were married to an attractive woman and the man in you was finally stirred up, is that it?"
"No, I... I mean. yes. I mean..."
"Forget about it. I'm not looking for a scientific explanation. Are you going to get undressed_. Claude, or do you expect me to do that for you?" she asked.
I looked about to place my drink an something, and she screamed. "Not there, Put it on the desk. You'll leave a circle in the wood. How you can be so intelligent and do so many stupid things, I don't know."
I put the glass down where she wanted it put and began to undress.
No matter what, I thought, it just wasn't romantic. It just wasn't emanating from any heart beating with love, and the irony was, it was she who was always teaching, instructing, critiquing it all, not me. She was analyzing, comparing, designing every movement to fit some preconceived image. She put herself in a romance novel or a movie love scene. and I was the one who was no more than a prop, a manikin standing in for this actor or that dreamboat.
I won't go into all that happened afterward. Willow. but I can tell you this-- when I lay back on my own pillow in my own bed afterward that night, I was even more in love with Grace. How do I know? I couldn't make love to Alberta without thinking about Grace, without doing just what Alberta did most likely every time we were together: pretending she was with someone else. In my case it wasn't a movie actor or a singing star I was imagining, nor was it a debonair socialite. It was someone I knew, someone I could touch,
Grace, I kept thinking in my mind. Grace, how I want to curl up in your heart and sleep contented forever and ever. How can that ever be? Just thinking such thoughts made me ashamed of myself, Grace Montgomery was my patient. It was assumed she was vulnerable and in my most protected trust. A doctor cannot take advantage of that trust, can he? He can't and remain true to his profession, to the essence of who and what he is and abuse that relationship.
I tossed and turned, trying to keep myself from dreaming of her. I deliberately reviewed my reports on other patients. I planned my whole month's calendar. I did everything I could to keep awake, for fear that once I fell asleep, I would fall victim to my own secret heart, which, my darling Willow, was exactly what did happen.
Over the next few days I kept my sessions with Grace as professional as I could. I met with her only in my office. and I spent time working on correcting her medications. I busied myself with my other patients, and I tried desperately to occupy my every free hour with something that would keep me from thinking about her. Nothing worked,
This is madness, I kept telling myself. I'm growing more and more obsessed. It had to stop, but for all my wisdom and for all my experience. I could not heal myself, Willow. I could not purge my mind of your mother. Her eyes, her lips, her hair, the way she held her head or moved her hands, every little thing about her was caught in a mental snapshot and replayed on the screen of my memory and in the corridors of my dreams.
Finally one night after I had finished dinner and Alberta had gone upstairs. I went to my office and tried to reason with myself. I reviewed my thoughts, my actions. What should I do next to stop this fall into a sweet oblivion? I had another tumbler of scotch and then went up to bed, but almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, your mother's face returned to the inside of my eyelids.
In a crazed rush of impulsive activity, I rose, dressed, and left the house. Miles was already asleep. I drove myself back to the clinic. It was a very dark night, overcast, with not a star in sight. The clinic looked asleep itself, the lights turned down low and the lobby very quiet. All of our patients were in their roams, and the attendants and nurses were sitting and having coffee or tea or watching television. I was able to let myself in and, like some burglar, sneak down the corridor. When I reached Grace Montgomery's door. I stopped and stood there, my heart pounding.
What was I doing?
Why had I come here? What were my intentions?
I saw my hand move slowly toward the doorknob, and then I heard. "Dr. De Beers?"
One of the night nurses had appeared in the corridor. "Oh, Suzanne," I said.
"Is anything wrong?"
"I was a little concerned about Grace Montgomery today and wanted to check on her. How has she been?"
"Fine," she said. shaking her head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. She ate well, worked in the arts and crafts room, did some reading in our library. I'm sure she's asleep."
"Yes, yes, you're probably right." I said.
"But let me look in on her for you," she added and opened the door.
I peered in over her shoulder like a voyeur, a child wanting to see something exciting. &race was asleep, her face caught in the moonlight peeking through her curtains. She looked absolutely angelic to me.
"She's fine. Doctor." the nurse said. I nodded and we both backed out and closed the door softly.
I am truly a madman, I thought on the way home that night.
Tomorrow, Tomorrow I will turn her over completely to Ralston.
But when I arrived at the clinic the next morning and went to his office to do just that. I found I couldn't even suggest it
. Not yet. I wasn't ready for such surrender. I had to continue to test myself, and perhaps, dear Willow, perhaps that was where I went right. You would have expected me to say wrong, but even to this day I refuse to believe I was guilty of anything but a pure and wonderful love.
We returned to our walks, our wonderful walks. Grace was talking more and more about her life in Palm Beach now, telling me how difficult it had been far her to make new friends and how out of place she had felt right from the beginning.
"I had come from a very structured world, the world of a navy family on a navy base, and was dropped into this... this world where rules almost didn't matter. Doctor. My new friends didn't worry much about disappointing their parents. I used to think some of them actually didn't like their own parents."
"Yes, that's not something that surprises me. Young people want to have some structure. You might think otherwise, but when they're tossed out to sink or swim on their own, they feel neglected and should feel that way. Disciplining, supervising is another way to show you care."
"Were your parents that way?"
"Oh, yes," I said. laughing. "My father was a very strict disciplinarian, not that I really needed it. I was too well behaved and responsible. I was probably very boring to my classmates, a bookworm. Even as a teenager, I hated wasting time."
"Didn't you have girlfriends?" she asked. "Didn't you fall in love a dozen times?"
"I had crushes on girls in my classes, but I was always a bit too shy to make anything of it"
"Your wife is very attractive. You couldn't be all that shy," she said.
I began to wonder if someone who didn't know listened in, who would he think was the patient here? It made me smile.
"Why are you laughing?" she wondered.
"I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the contradiction. Yes, my wife is beautiful, but if you asked me what was it about me that drew her attention. I think I would have a hard time giving you a satisfactory answer."
"Oh. I think I know that answer." Grace said.
We were on the crest of that hill. gazing dawn at the river again. "Really?" I smiled at her. "What's the answer?"
"You make people feel comfortable with themselves. You're like a warm home. I feel like I could cuddle up and go to sleep safely in your arms. and I haven't felt that way since... since my father died." she said.
For a long moment. Willow, I just stood there. Yes, your literate, wordy father was speechless and brought to that point by this purely innocent beautiful woman whose eyes untied the last cords that bound me to my oaths, my profession, my responsibilities. I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder and slowly, ever so slowly, brought her closer until I was holding her against me.
Neither of us spoke, but it was a moment I can't forget. We did nothing more than stand there looking out at the river, watching the gauze-like layer of clouds slide gracefully down the blue slope of sky toward the horizon. A flock of sparrows lifted from the branch of a tree below and flew to the right until they disappeared behind the forest. And then the world seemed to take a deep breath. The breeze stopped. The strands of her hair that were lifted fell back to her forehead.
"Are you happy now. Doctor, happy with your marriage?" she asked.
Everything in me told me this was not a question I should answer. She was my patient. I was her doctor. This was crossing the line too far.
"It's more of an arrangement than a marriage," I admitted. "As the famous line goes, we share coffee."
It wasn't hard to see that she was pleased with that reply. She said nothing. She nodded softly as if she had expected no other kind of reply.
I lifted my hand from her shoulder and turned, and we walked back to the clinic, neither of us speaking. She returned to the arts and crafts room, and I went to my office to make some notes and prepare myself for my next patient. In the afternoon we had a staff meeting and reviewed our patient load. When Grace
Montgomery's name came up. Ralston lifted that one eyebrow of his and listened to my quick evaluation and my recommendations for continued therapies. I was reducing her medication dramatically now She hadn't been suffering the long bouts of depression she experienced when she had first arrived.
"So you're really making significant progress, Claude," Ralston said.
"Yes, yes I think we are."
"Good." Mercifully he went on to another patient, and I returned to my office. At the end of the day I considered remaining to have dinner with Grace. but I battled with myself and defeated that part of me that wanted it so very much.
At home Alberta was her talkative self, rambling on and on about the chamber of commerce ball. She was insistent that I attend it and drew repeated promises from me that I would not forget nor make any other appointment for that date. She actually had me sign a paper that stated. I, Claude De Beers, will attend the chamber of commerce ball
"I will show this to everyone and anyone should you not be at my side that evening. Claude." she threatened. "The whole world will know what an absolute cad you are."
How trivial and silly it all seemed to me to be at her side at such an event compared to being at Grace's side, even to take a simple walk in the gardens at the clinic.
Later in the evening I tried to do some reading. Alberta had retired to take a herbal bath and do her skin and hair treatments. My eyes kept slipping from the pages of what I was reading until I looked up at the wall and saw Grace Montgomery and myself standing on the hill, me holding her, her head against my chest.
Are you happy now, Doctor, happy in your marriage? I heard her ask me again.
How my heart ached. Willow. I could not stand it any longer. I rose and looked for Miles. He was outside, finishing washing the car.
"I need to return to the clinic. Miles." I said. "Now?"
"Immediately."
He nodded, put everything away quickly, and got behind the wheel. Moments later we were flying through the night, my heart thumping. I had no idea what I would do. what I would say. But I felt wonderful doing this.
"Should I wait for you, Doctor?" Miles asked when we pulled up.
"Yes, Miles." I said. "You can go to the recreation room and watch television if you like."
"Very good." he said and I hurried in.
Nadine Gordon was on duty this night and she saw me enter. "Is anything wrong. Dr. De Beers?" she asked immediately.
"No, no. I have something to complete. Go on with your usual duties," I said, waving her off as officially and firmly as I could.
I could feel her eyes on the back of my head as I charged down the corridor, first to my office and then, quietly, to the patients' dormitory. Once again, sneaking about like a errant teenager. approached Grace's door, I knocked softly and then opened it.
She was standing by the window looking out and turned slowly when I appeared. I closed the door softly behind me. She gazed at me without speaking. She was in her nightgown, her hair down. Willow, it was as if I were truly under a spell. I think I floated across that small room until I was inches from her. Neither of us had uttered a syllable yet. She looked up at me, that small, precious smile forming on her lips.
"Grace," I finally found the strength to say, and then. Claude De Beers be damned. I did it. Willow.
I kissed her, tentatively at first and then with more passion than I ever imagined I had within me.
And she kissed me back and held on to me like a castaway bobbing in that sea of turmoil who had found something solid to cling to.
"I'm here," I said. "For you." And it began.
6
Cain's Confession
.
A brilliant colleague of mine, another wellknown psychiatrist and philosopher who is the author of many of the classic works in our field, has written that the criminal or the immoral person ironically finds relief in the so-called criminal or immoral act. Up until the time he or she commits it, their
consciences torment them. They struggle and da battle with good and evil forces within themselves and
in that they suffer. When they finally act, they end the discussion. It's over. They've committed themselves and there is, according to my colleague, great relief. Be calls it Cain's Confession syndrome. It's equivalent to shouting at his conscience. 'I did it! Stop haunting me!"
Oh. did I do it, Willow. I began a secret relationship that would make me deceitful and conniving, a liar in my own house and dishonest with my closest friend. for I could not in the beginning trust anyone with the truth, not even Ralston. I had just come to the point where I was able to trust myself with it.
"I could hurt you," Grace told me that night. Of course she was referring to her curse. I laughed and told her. "Not any more than I could hurt myself or more to the point, hurt you. Grace."
She trembled in my arms. and I held her and kissed her again and then gently led her to her bed, where she lay back on the pillow and looked up at me with that wonderful soft smile that melted any resistance in my heart. I knelt at her side and stroked her hair.
"This is so wrong of me," I told her. "I am a man of logic, but I cannot explain, much less justify, my actions. All I know is you rarely leave my thoughts. I see you everywhere. Grace. I hear your voice in every quiet moment, and even when others are speaking to me, my ears shut down and your voice is the one I hear. I, of all people, know what obsessions are. This is not simply some obsession. Grace, something that might be mitigated or cured. It's more. I feel certain of that. For the first time. I think I understand the power of love, for I am in love, and Grace, no one can cure me of that or lessen it because I want it with all my soul."
"Except for my father, no man has ever told me he loves me, not like that." she said. "My stepfather Winston was very, very fond of me, but it was truly a father-daughter affection. Until now I never knew love like the love I feel for you." She laughed. "I was going to say Doctor. What should I call you?"