“Well, thank you for that,” she said, opening the binder. “But you’re the one who deserves the credit. You’re the one doing the work.”
Craig shrugged modestly.
She consulted a page of handwritten notes on a yellow pad inside the binder. “Last time I was here we talked about you getting over your fear about going out of the house.”
“Well, yes,” Craig said. “But it’s not so much my fear as it is other people’s fear. I mean, I do look kind of scary.”
“That’s their problem, though, isn’t it?” Beverly said. “People need to examine their own attitudes when it comes to dealing with others with disabilities or differences.”
“Yeah, well, it’s hard to get into a discussion about that when they’re running off screaming their heads off,” Craig countered.
She nodded understandingly. “Point taken. But you’ve been out and about more in the last week?”
“I have,” he said.
“Where have you gone?”
“I’ve done some driving. And walking. Mostly at night.”
“I think, as you regain your confidence, you’ll be going out more during daylight hours,” Beverly said encouragingly.
“I’m sure you’re right,” he said.
“And how would you describe your state of mind, say, the last week or so? Are you coming to terms with your situation?”
“My situation?” Craig asked. “That’s such an interesting way to put it.”
“Well, you know, I like to put things in as respectful and gentle a way as possible,” she said.
“Oh, I’ve noticed that.” Craig offered up another grisly smile. “As for my state of mind, I would say... it has improved.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said.
“I’ve decided to try to move forward. To take control of my life rather than sit back and let it control me.”
“That is very good to hear.”
“I need to channel my energies, my... urges in a productive way,” Craig said.
Beverly’s smile faded. “Just what do you mean by that?” she asked.
“Which part?”
“Well,” she said hesitantly, “the urges part.”
“Oh, well — I hope you don’t mind my being totally honest with you. I mean, you are my counselor and all.”
“No, please, honesty is the best way to go.”
“Well,” and he leaned forward, almost conspiratorially, and whispered, “even though I no longer have the appliances, I’ve still got the owners’ manuals, if you get what I’m saying.”
Beverly swallowed. “I believe I do.”
“So when I feel... aroused, in my mind, and I don’t get a corresponding physical response, there’s a kind of ache. Do you know what I mean? Like, you know when they talk about a phantom limb? How if your arm gets blown off in battle, you still feel the pain.” He leaned in even closer. “I think what I have is a phantom hard-on.”
Beverly leaned back in her chair.
“I don’t really know about that,” she said. “That’s something you’d have to discuss with your physical therapist.”
Craig looked crestfallen. “Oh, I thought you were here to help me with that kind of thing, because, you know, it very much affects my self-esteem and all.”
“There are... limits, Craig, to what I can help you with. What I am here to do is help you adjust to this new life you have, to help you understand that despite what has happened to you, this can be a new beginning.”
He nodded as though he understood completely. “It’s like a smile is just a frown turned upside down, right?”
Beverly Sinclair’s jaw tightened. “You know, Craig, all I’ve ever sincerely wanted to do is help you. I know you’re mocking me, but my intentions have always been genuine. You may not believe it, but I do care. I care about all my clients as if they were part of my family.”
“That’s nice,” Craig said. “So, if you think of me as part of your extended family, maybe I could come by some time. I could meet your daughter.”
Beverly’s face froze.
“I think you mentioned her in passing once,” Craig said. “She’s fourteen, I think you said. And her name is Leanne? Do I have that right?”
Beverly said nothing.
“Maybe I should drop by,” he said. “When I’m out driving at night.”
Beverly found her voice. “You don’t know where I live.”
Craig opened his hand and studied the small metallic device he’d been holding.
“What is that?” Beverly asked.
“This,” he said, picking it out of his palm with two fingers and holding it up between them, “is the niftiest little gadget. I’ve ordered them before, but this is a new model.”
Hesitantly, as though afraid to ask, Beverly said, “What does it do?”
“It’s a little tracking device. You plant it on... whatever... and see where it goes.”
Beverly closed her binder and reached down for her purse. She clutched it close to her chest. “Well, you can just hang onto it.”
He gave her another hideous grin. “Who knows. Maybe I dropped one in your purse last week.”
She put the binder on the chair so she could use both hands to open and inspect her handbag.
Craig laughed. “I’m just having some fun with you. I didn’t do that.”
Beverly looked at him, searched his deformed face, trying to determine the truth.
“Or did I?” he added.
Beverly snatched up the binder and opened the door. Before she slipped out into the hall she said, “I don’t... I think I’ll be assigning your case to someone else. You won’t be seeing me again.”
“You never know,” Craig said. “We might run into each other sometime.”
Twenty-four
“I hope we made the right decision,” Gloria Pilford said, glass in hand. She had switched to red wine.
“Is there anything left in the cellar?” Madeline Plimpton asked, perched on a stool at the kitchen island.
“Where’s Bob?” Gloria asked.
“Have you gone deaf?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t heard all the racket? The power saw and the drilling.”
“Oh,” said Gloria. “That.”
“He got a piece of plywood over where the glass was broken. Can’t leave it wide open until the pane’s replaced.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“And I think he was making some phone calls, too,” Madeline said.
“Do you think we did the right thing? Letting Jeremy go off with a total stranger?”
“Weaver’s a good man,” her aunt said. “I checked him out.”
“I talked to him a little, the two of us. Do you know what happened to his wife and his son?”
Madeline told her how they had both been murdered, several years ago. Gloria was quiet for several seconds, then said, “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Which part?” Madeline asked.
Gloria’s eyes narrowed. “About Grant.”
Madeline sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I remember,” Gloria said.
“You remember what?”
“I remember him from years ago. When he first started practicing. It was here in Promise Falls, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” her aunt said.
“Was that when the affair started? Or was it before you took me in?”
Madeline glowered at her niece. “Before.”
“But then at some point it ended,” Gloria said.
“Grant was married. He wasn’t going to leave his wife and I wasn’t going to leave my husband. I was a widow a year later, but Grant had already moved on by then.”
“So all those years went by and you had nothing going on?”
“That’s right.”