Beauty and the Beast (6 page)

Janis shakily held the phone to her ear. “Please hurry, Victoria. I’m afraid they’ll hurt themselves.”

Rachel ran into the room. “Oh my God,” she cried out as Nefertiti and Bruce worked to rip a bookshelf out of the wall. “I am not cleaning this.”

Janis pushed Rachel out the room and tugged on Anna. “Victoria said to close them in here until she gets home. They’ll burn it out.”

As soon as the door closed, Bruce threw the offending shelf at the door. Once the two were exhausted, they fell to the floor. Bruce crawled to Nefertiti. “Wow, you’re my kind of woman.”

“I’m so tired, but I feel good.”

Victoria rushed in. “Where are they?” She set her purse and keys on the entry table.

Janis pointed toward the heavy wood doors of the study. “They’ve been quiet about thirty, maybe forty minutes.”

Anna shook her head. “I love those two in there like they were my blood, but I don’t know, Victoria. I’ve never seen anything like that before. They fed off each other’s anger.”

Rachel stammered, “Does he always go off like that?”

The fear in the young woman’s eyes worried Victoria. Maybe she had made the wrong decision. Bruce was enough to handle, but now… “No, darling, he isn’t usually like that.” Bruce hadn’t had a tantrum in three, maybe even four years, and from what Janis had described over the phone, this episode would rival one he hadn’t had since childhood.
There has to be a reasonable explanation.
As long as his mood didn’t change to rage, he could control the when, where, and how to release his anger.
This doesn’t add up.

She nervously smoothed a few straggling hairs into the French knot she wore. When Nefertiti was initially attacked, Victoria worried Bruce’s fury would take over and he’d be consumed. If anything could have sent him into uncontrollable rage, the sight of Nefertiti’s battered body would have.
What triggered this?

Anna rested her hands on Victoria’s shoulders. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe they should be committed. They can make Bruce take his medicine until he’s balanced again, and they could help Nefertiti.” Anna slowly shook her head. “I’ve never seen him like this. They were… He was…” She hunched her shoulders. “I think he was feeding her rage,” she repeated.

“No, I won’t do that to them.” She turned away. “I’ll figure out something.”

“You’ve got enough money. You can even use the east wing or maybe the guesthouse and hire psychiatric nurses to help care for them. They might hurt themselves or someone else if they lose control again.”

“Thanks, Anna. I know you’re trying to help. Let me find out what triggered this episode, then I’ll go from there.” She faced Rachel. “I hope we haven’t scared you off.”

“No, Miss Victoria.” She crumpled her dust cloth in her hand. “I’m hangin’ in there,” she said more surly than she appeared.

“Good for you. And don’t worry, I’ll hire a service to clean up their mess.”

The relieved look on Rachel’s face had everyone in the entry laughing.

Peaceful. Victoria set the only chair to make it through the destructive duo’s rampage in the middle of the mess and watched as the two slept on the cushions of the couch, which were now on the floor. Nefertiti was spooned into Bruce’s body, and both were snoring lightly. How the two had gone from such rage to total peace was beyond Victoria. The scene—minus the mass destruction—took her thoughts to the time when Nefertiti was five. Playing ninjas, the “destructive duo” would wreck her living room before they eventually tired themselves out and fell asleep. Nefertiti usually used Bruce as a pillow. Even then, Victoria had felt these two would marry some day.

She returned her thoughts to the present. Bruce hadn’t had a tantrum of this magnitude since he was ten and found out that the gifts he routinely received from his mother on Christmas and on his birthday weren’t actually from her, but from Victoria
. What hurt you this time, baby?
She focused on Nefertiti.
And you. This isn’t like you at all.
Nefertiti had long since grown out of her destructive ways.

“Auntie Vic,” Bruce whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. But we can’t have this.” Though Bruce was over six feet tall and a shrewd businessman, she still saw him as the scared little three-year-old her sister had abandoned on her doorstep so many years ago.

“I know, but…” He closed his eyes and held Nefertiti close. “I’ll never let anyone hurt her again. Never.”

For several minutes, Victoria gathered her thoughts. “This is an awful lot for you to handle. Maybe I should call Dr. Herman.”

Bruce had been diagnosed with a mood disorder shortly after the tantrum he’d thrown when he was ten. The proper dosage and medicines for children hadn’t been well tested or even known, and the prescriptions had made his problems worse. Soon his anger had taken on suicidal tendencies.

“I won’t take drugs. They make me crazy.”

“Medicine has come a long way in thirty years, Bruce,” she continued softly. “There is help for you. Just talk to the Dr. Herman.” She’d convinced Bruce to see Dr. Herman once, sometimes twice a year. He’d just seen the man a month ago, so she wasn’t sure he’d agree. She silently prayed she wouldn’t have to order him to go. Out of respect, she knew he’d do as she said.

His gaze traveled from Nefertiti to Victoria to the destruction of the room, then back to Victoria. “Have Janis make me an appointment.”

Proud with his decision, her heart sang. “Good.” She nodded. “Very good.” Tantrums were not a new thing for Bruce, but he controlled the time and the magnitude of them. Something about this tantrum didn’t sit right with Victoria. She motioned at the devastation. “Why in here, Bruce? Why so much? This isn’t like you.”

“I just flipped.”

The love in his eyes as he watched Nefertiti sleep provided the real answer for Victoria. “There are better ways for her to control her rage, Bruce.”

His devilish smile told her she’d picked the winning numbers. “Sometimes rage shouldn’t be controlled, but released.”

“Then teach her how to release it in constructive, not destructive ways.”

“I know this is hard for you to understand, but sometimes… sometimes destruction is the only answer. Blowing off steam.”

She raised a brow. “This was more than blowing off steam.”

“After what she’s been through—is going through…” He trailed off. “She needed this. I’m sorry I scared the household, but she had so much hostility and rage built up inside. She needed immediate release.”

“I’m not happy about this mess, but I understand. I still want you to see Dr. Herman.”

“I will.” He slowly lifted Nefertiti’s veil.

“No, Bruce. Don’t rush her.”

He stopped. “I don’t care about scars. Hell, I’m one big scar.”

“But she does. Give her time.”

“You aren’t going to make her leave, are you? This was entirely my fault.”

For a second, she saw the eyes of the scared little three-year-old. “No, darling, I would never do that. But I do need you to help me.” She bent over and picked up a broken leg of the game table. “Now that she’s had pressure released, I don’t expect a repeat performance. Teach her how to control her emotions until she is in a place where she is free to vent if need be. Help her build on what she does have instead of wallowing in self pity about what she doesn’t have.”

Nefertiti rolled over and snuggled in closer.

“Has she always been such a heavy sleeper, Auntie?”

A smile crossed Victoria’s face with the memory of the one and only tornado she’d ever seen. She’d traveled down to central Illinois to see her new goddaughter for the first time when a twister hit. By the end of the storm, every other house on the block was history, and the ones left standing weren’t much better off. The tornado had sounded like a roaring train, and the crashing and decimation of the houses like explosions. Yet three-month-old Nefertiti, cuddled into her mother’s bosom, had slept the whole time.

“Why don’t you carry her on upstairs? She can sleep in my bed.”

“Nah, I’ll take her to my room. It’s more comfortable.” He grinned. “And I have the perfect way for her to focus some of that energy.”

Chapter Three

“H
ow could you do this to me, Roy?” Catherine kicked her stilettos off in the direction of her brother, then plopped onto the hotel bed. “What in the world was going through your mind?”

From his bed, he pointed out, “You’re the one who said I need to be more involved in the business.”

“There’s a hell of a lot of difference between being involved and selling the business. Dixon Textiles has been a fixture in Virginia for over a hundred years.” She flung her arms into the air. “Dixon, Virginia, is named after our great-great-grandfather!”

“How can I forget when every damn thing in the town is Dixon this or Dixon that?”

Dark brows furrowed, she reminded herself that murder was illegal, and she’d probably be caught; plus, she loved the idiot. “Please tell me this isn’t your way of getting back at Dad?”

Roy had fallen out with their father years ago when Daddy Dixon gave Catherine twenty-six percent of the company and Roy twenty-five percent. Roy had barely made it through high school and never lifted a finger to work in the factory. Catherine had shadowed her father in the factory from the time she was ten until age fifteen, when he allowed her to start working on the factory floor. She earned a bachelor’s in management and a master’s in business. When their father divided his holdings in the company, he had said that Roy wasn’t serious about anything except partying; thus Catherine had earned that extra percent. Since that time, Catherine had become CEO and purchased another four percent of the company.

“I’m older than you, and I’m also his son,” Roy finally countered.

“So because you are the oldest you should have been given the extra percent? Because I’m just a lowly daughter how dare he—”

“I’m not saying that,” he interrupted.