The one good thing-or bad, depending upon your take-that came to mind was that I hadn’t had any nightmares. At least, I didn’t think I had. Something still didn’t feel right though, and I definitely wasn’t catching on to what it was.
“Good morning,” Felicity greeted the back of my head from the doorway. “Or should I say, afternoon, then? Finally decided to join the rest of the world?” Her voice still held a heavier than normal Celtic lilt, and that told me that she must not have slept any better than I had.
“Uh-huh,” I grunted then forced out a scratchy query while thrusting a finger over my shoulder. “Is that clock right?”
“Close enough,” she returned as she ventured farther into the room and made her way around the end of the bed. “Right as it ever is.”
“Damn,” I muttered, “I sure don’t feel like I got seven hours of sleep.”
She laughed, “As it was I only got four myself. What makes you think you’d be gettin’ that much more than me, then?”
Now I was even more befuddled. “We went to bed around five a.m., right?”
“Aye.”
I didn’t say anything else. The comment seemed self-explanatory to me.
“Well?” I finally said.
“Well, what?” she answered as she tugged the bed linens off into a pile on the floor.
“Well, noon minus five,” I offered through my haze, “comes out to around seven. In my head anyway.”
“It does at that,” she replied as she hooked an arm around my neck and slid into my lap. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower and she smelled faintly of roses. The sweet scent tickled my nose as she leaned in to kiss my cheek then whisper, “And I told you then that we should be spending it sleeping. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
I was just about to ask her to explain what she meant when the various pieces of the equation started to fall into place. What had been unidentified variables up until now became known quantities. When the values were added up, the undeniable final product was obviously a prolonged and intense sexual encounter.
Unfortunately, it was one to which I was completely oblivious. Fortunately, I had enough wits about me to know better than to say so, at least until I figured out why.
“Oh, yeah, that,” I lied for effect.
“I’m loving you a whole bunch right now,” my wife whispered softly.
“Yeah, me too,” I said while searching my memory for the slightest inkling of the recent passion and finding none. “Me too.”
Behind my quiet facade, confusion opened the door then politely invited fear to come on in and make itself at home.
It didn’t hesitate to accept.
CHAPTER 12
“I really appreciate you working me into your schedule like this,” I told Helen Storm as we both sidled up to the balcony railing of the outdoor smoking lounge. “I know you’re very busy.”
Felicity hadn’t objected in the least when I begged off from helping clean the house in order to attend a hastily scheduled visit with Doctor Storm. Had it been for any other reason, I doubt I would have made it as far as the front door before she started spouting Gaelic. I still hadn’t told my wife about my amnesia regarding our intimacy, and I wasn’t sure if I would. I wasn’t even positive that I was going to tell Helen about it just yet, even though it was the catalyst for the sudden appointment. Quite a bit was going to depend upon what conclusions were reached over the next hour.
“It was no problem, Rowan,” she answered.
“Well, I felt bad about calling you on such short notice.”
“You should not. That is what I am here for.”
“Even so,” I expressed, “I hate coming off as some sort of needy flake.”
“You need not worry about that. It was not my perception in the least. Really, Rowan, it was a light day for me anyway, and it was quite obvious that something was troubling you.”
I suspected that there had been more to rearranging her schedule than she let on. “Well, I still appreciate it.”
“I know you do, so stop beating yourself up about it. Truth is, I cannot really say that I was surprised to hear from you,” she offered gently. “Benjamin called me early this morning.”
“So is he really that worried about me?”
“Yes he is, but please do not get the impression that he is checking up on you or trying to interfere in your life. He was actually calling me about getting together on Christmas Eve. I could tell he had something else on his mind though, so I pried it out of him.”
“I’ve discovered over the years that’s not always an advisable task with Ben.”
“No,” she mused. “Not even for a friend who is as close to him as you are. But being the older sister who has acted as his confidant for more years than she cares to acknowledge, I can get away with it.”
“I see.” I nodded. “So what did he tell you?”
“Not much in the way of details really. Just that you had experienced one of your psychic episodes last night and that you were not displaying your usual clarity in that regard.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“He alluded that it was something very out of character for you,” she agreed with a nod.
“I’m not usually this befuddled, no.”
“That is what worries him most, I believe-your wife as well. They are concerned that this confusion might interfere with your judgment and, if so, your safety.”
I knew exactly what she meant and offered the unspoken evidence. “Just like it did when I chased Eldon Porter out onto that bridge. Yeah, we’ve been down that road a couple of times already.”
“Then you know that they are merely expressing concern for a loved one. You.”
“I know.” I nodded. “I know… But it still doesn’t make things any easier to deal with. Sometimes it just makes me feel…like…”
I struggled to find any word or phrase that could accurately describe my feelings, but none were forthcoming.
“Diminished?” Helen offered.
“Yes. Exactly. Like they feel as though I’m incapable of making my own decisions.”
“So what about those decisions?”
“What do you mean?”
“With everything we have discussed so far,” she explained, “it all seems to come back to Eldon Porter and the decisions you made then.”
“It was a bad situation,” I said.
“From what little both you and Benjamin have told me, it sounds like it was a royally fucked up situation.”
I was momentarily taken aback by the single spoken vulgarity coming from Helen Storm. Her soothing demeanor and calm voice made the expletive stand out even more against the backdrop of her words-effectively framing it and making it the succinct and perfect description of the situation. But it was perfect only as she said it. Had the same statement been made by anyone else, it would have simply been an observation punctuated by profanity.
I already liked her, but the stark humanness of the expression ingratiated her to me even more.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Yes it was.”
“What about the decisions you made during that case? Were they as well?”
“Depends on who you ask. Ben thinks I was lacking in my judgment, that’s for sure. And Felicity has it in for Ben and me both where that is concerned.”
“I am not asking them,” she submitted. “I am asking you.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged and took a hit from my cigarette before crushing it out. I stripped the butt then discarded the filter and paper in a nearby trash receptacle before continuing. “I did what I thought I needed to do. In retrospect, I suppose chasing after a serial killer in the middle of the night, alone, probably wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Why do you think you felt you had to do it?”
“I didn’t want him to get away.” I gave her a statement of fact as I saw it.
“Are you certain that is why?”