Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [20]
“I…I’m sorry,” she murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around herself in an effort to control the trembling that had seized her. “I can’t explain…. I’m sorry—”
“But what’s wrong?” he demanded, reaching out his hand to her again, and she drew back sharply, jumping to her feet.
She knew that she couldn’t explain, but neither could she stand there any longer. “Good night,” she said rapidly, and walked away from him. She entered the house and almost bumped into Serena, who was stepping out onto the patio.
“There you are,” she said. “Blake’s gone to bed; he was so tired.”
“Yes, I thought he would be,” Dione said, gathering her composure enough to answer Serena evenly. Suddenly she felt very tired, too, and she was unable to stifle a yawn. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
Serena gave her an odd, considering look. “Then Richard and I will be leaving; I don’t want to keep you up. I’ll see Blake tomorrow.”
“I’ll be increasing his exercises tomorrow,” Dione informed her, taking the opportunity to let Serena know that her presence would hinder rather than help. “It would be better if you waited until late afternoon, say after four.”
“But that’s too much!” Serena gasped. “He isn’t strong enough!”
“At this point, I’m doing most of the work,” Dione reassured her dryly. “But I’ll be careful not to let him do too much.”
If Serena heard the sarcasm that Dione couldn’t quite suppress, she didn’t let on. Instead she nodded. “I see,” she said coldly. “Very well. I’ll see Blake tomorrow afternoon.”
Well, will wonders never cease, Dione thought wryly to herself as she made her way upstairs. All she’d had to do was mention that Blake would be busy, and though Serena hadn’t been happy with the situation, she’d agreed to it.
After she’d gotten ready for bed, she tapped lightly on Blake’s door; when she didn’t hear an answer she opened the door just enough to peek inside. He was sound asleep, lying on his back, his head rolled against his shoulder. With only the light from the hallway on him, he looked younger, the lines of suffering not visible now.
Quietly she closed the door and returned to her room. She was tired, so tired that her limbs ached, but after she was in bed she found that sleep eluded her. She knew why, and lay awake staring at the ceiling, knowing that she might not sleep at all that night. Such a silly, trivial thing…just because Richard had touched her.
Yet it wasn’t trivial, and she knew it. She might have pushed the nightmare away, she might have restructured her life completely, but her past was hers, a part of her, and it hadn’t been trivial. Rape wasn’t trivial. Since that night she hadn’t been able to bear for anyone to touch her. She’d worked out a compromise with herself, satisfying her human need for warmth and touching by working with her patients, touching them, but she could bear the contact only as long as she was the one in control.
On the surface she had recovered completely; she had built a wall between who she was now and who she had been then, never dwelling on what had happened, literally forcing herself to gather together the shattered pieces of her life and, with fierce concentration and willpower, actually mending the pieces into a stronger fabric. She could laugh and enjoy life. More importantly, she had learned how to respect herself, which had been the hardest task of all.
But she couldn’t tolerate a man’s touch.
That night had effectively prevented her from marrying and having a family. Since that part of life was denied her, she ignored it, and never cried for what might have been. Instead she became a vagabond of sorts, traveling around the country and helping other people. While she was on a case she had an intense relationship full of love and caring, but without any sexual overtones. She loved her patients, and, inevitably, they loved her…while it lasted. They became her