High Anxiety (21 page)

Our wine was served, and we were handed menus. “I highly recommend the chicken breast stuffed with spinach and feta cheese,” Mona said.

“Sounds good,” I said. Once we’d placed our order, I noticed Mona was studying me closely.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“You look tired.”

I shrugged. “I haven’t been sleeping well. Every little noise jars me awake.”

“What kinds of noises?” Mona asked.

“It’s an old house,” I said. “It creaks and groans. It never bothered me before, so I know I’m just anxious. I searched my office this morning to make sure nothing was out of place.”

Mona looked concerned. “If you’re afraid of staying alone, you should come back to my place.”

“I can’t live in fear of Abigail,” I said. “I still have to carry on my life and my work.”

“Have you heard from Thad?”

“Not since he left for West Palm Beach. I don’t blame him for not calling. I wasn’t very friendly the last time I saw him.”

“I should probably tell you he called me,” Mona said.

“For what reason?”

“He’s worried about you.”

“See what I mean? Abigail is creating problems for everyone. I’m so angry.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Mona said as our salads arrived. “Tonight we’re just going to enjoy ourselves, even if we have to fake it.”

 

 

I arrived at
my office the next morning and was looking over my appointments for the day when I heard the door to my reception room open. Obviously, my first appointment had arrived early. I stood but didn’t make it far before Abigail Davis walked into my private office. I felt a surge of adrenaline.

“I didn’t get the bank job,” she said.

“I want you to leave. Now,” I said.

“You said bad things about me, didn’t you?”

I walked into my office without answering her and picked up the phone.

She followed. “Who are you calling?”

“Security,” I said. “If you won’t leave on your own, I’ll have them escort you out.”

“You’re going to pay for this, Kate,” she said.

I noted the fury in her eyes and felt a chill. “Are you threatening me?”

She was silent. A moment later, she stormed out without a word, but I knew I hadn’t seen the last of her.

When my first patient arrived, I tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but my thoughts kept returning to Abigail. Was I going to jump every time I heard the door open in my reception room? Was I going to spend the rest of my life holding my breath, wondering what she would do next? The thought angered me. I was not going to give in to fear, I told myself. I was not going to give her that much control.

I decided to go downstairs for a sandwich, if for no other reason than to get out of my office for a while. I locked up and rode the elevator down to the lobby.

I spotted Abigail immediately, sitting on a chair in the corner of the sandwich shop, reading a newspaper and sipping coffee. I assumed she was going through the classifieds, because she had a pen in her hand and was making marks on the page. She glanced up and caught me staring, and I turned away quickly. Ignoring her seemed to be the best way to handle it.

It struck me then, as I was standing in line waiting to order. What the hell was wrong with my brain? The police were looking for her. I needed to call them and let them know where she was. I stepped out of line and started for the door. I glanced in her direction once more. But she was gone.

 

 

I visited Alice
Smithers again after work. She was still depressed and afraid of losing her job. I felt bad for her after all she’d been through. Although I had told her in the beginning that patients with multiple personality disorder weren’t cured overnight, I hadn’t wanted to tell her it sometimes took years—and even then, the myriad personalities might not be fully integrated. Instead, I saw her twice a week, pro bono. In the meantime, all I could do was try to comfort her and offer hope.

I was leaving the hospital when Jay called my cell phone. I almost did a happy dance. “Can you hear me?” he asked.

“Perfectly. How are you?”

“I’m rested. I’m on my way back to the site, so I thought I’d touch base with you while I’m able to communicate.”

“I’m glad you called,” I said. “How’s it looking?”

“We’re still dealing with high winds. The best we can hope for right now is trying to contain the fire. Oh, get this. Last night, dozens of Native Americans arrived by bus. They’re going to perform various ceremonies. Rain dances, I suppose.” He paused. “The main reason I’m calling is to find out what the police had to say about the woman who has been giving you trouble. You
did
call them, right?”

“The police have been notified,” I said, “and they’re looking into it.” It wasn’t a lie, I told myself, since Mona
had
actually contacted them.

“Has she bothered you any more?” he asked.

I hesitated. “She would be foolish to try,” I replied, “since she knows law enforcement is now involved.”

“Maybe you should hang out at Mona’s for a few days,” he said. “I don’t like the thought of you being alone.”

“If I feel like I’m in danger, I’ll do that,” I said, “but I don’t think she is going to risk jail time just so she can harass me.”

“Hold on,” Jay said, and I heard him speaking to someone. “I need to go, Katie. We’re loading up.”

“I love you, Jay,” I said.

He hesitated, and I knew he would feel uncomfortable telling me in front of his crew. “Me, too,” he said before hanging up.

My day suddenly seemed brighter.

As I left my office at the end of the day, I decided I needed to do something nice for myself. I stopped by the video store and chose a newly released movie, then picked up a medium-sized pepperoni and cheese pizza, which I planned to share with Mike.

I pulled into my driveway ten minutes later, and as I walked toward the house, the fresh air felt good on my face. I could not remember the last time I had been out. I unlocked my door and carried the pizza inside. Instead of diving into it first thing, I snapped Mike’s leash to her collar and took her for a walk, thankful for the streetlamps that lit our way.

I was surprised to find that several For Sale signs had sprung up in the neighborhood since the last time Mike and I had ventured out, which proved what a lazy slug I was for not exercising on a regular basis. Jay had enabled my laziness by installing the doggie door leading to the fenced backyard, meaning I didn’t have to walk her.

“We’re going to start walking again,” I promised Mike. “Maybe it will help alleviate stress.” Of course, I couldn’t imagine why my
pet
would have stress, but
my
anxiety level was at an all-time high. I was sort of embarrassed that I constantly advised my patients to eat well and get plenty of sleep and exercise when I did neither.

Mike and I returned home and ate the pizza in front of the TV. I was glad I’d chosen an upbeat movie, because it took my mind off my troubles. Afterward, I ran a bath, praying that Mad Ethel would cooperate. She must’ve felt sorry for me, because I was able to fill the tub with plenty of nice hot water. I sprinkled in my favorite bath salts and soaked for an hour. I put on my pajamas and climbed into bed, thankful to have the day behind me. I slept soundly through the night and awoke the next morning feeling better than I had in days.

I spent more time on my makeup and hair than usual and chose my favorite outfit. I said good-bye to Mike as I headed out the front door, only to discover that my mums had been yanked from the front flowerbed, the flowers and stems flattened and ground into the dirt.

I simply stood there, stunned at the destruction that had obviously occurred during the night while I slept. Who would do such a thing?

Dumb question, I thought. I already knew.

It pained me
to look at the dead flowers, especially since my mother and aunt had bought and helped me plant them. My fingers shook as I unlocked my front door and went back inside. Mike looked overjoyed to see me. I’d been told animals have no concept of time, so she obviously figured I’d just returned home after a long day.

I made my way straight to the laundry room and pulled a black lawn-and-garden bag from a box. Outside, I picked up the now-destroyed mums and dropped them inside. Tears filled my eyes. I could not remember feeling so angry. I put the tie on the bag and dragged it behind the house in case I needed the dead flowers as evidence.

Still, I had no proof of who did this. Just my own instincts.

 

 

I saw three
patients before lunchtime rolled around, when I headed downstairs to the vending machine, only to discover it was out of order. So I decided to grab a sandwich. I was shocked to find Abigail behind the counter taking orders.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted when my turn came.

“I work here,” she said coolly. “It’s only temporary, of course, until I find something better. What would you like?” she asked, her pen poised above her order pad.

I lowered my voice. “I’d like to know why you destroyed my flowers last night.”

She didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Why would I do something like that?”

“For the same reason you slashed Mona’s tires,” I said.

“Did anyone actually
see
me do it? Were there witnesses?” she asked.

“I don’t need witnesses. You’re the only one I know who is crazy and vindictive enough to do such a thing.”

She leaned closer. “You’ve already cost me one job. If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to call the cops and report you for harassment.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “You’re sick, Abigail.”

“Are you going to order or not?” she asked.

“I’ve lost my appetite.” I stepped out of line and left the sandwich shop.

I was trembling by the time I climbed the four flights of stairs to my office. I unlocked the door and entered my reception room. I sat in my office quietly. Finally, I called Mona.

“The woman is dangerous, Kate. You need to file a police report.”

“I’ve already told you,” I said. “I have no proof that Abigail is responsible.”

 

 

 

* * *

At five p.m.
I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of my office building, visor down, sunglasses on, watching the front door. There were several white sedans in the parking lot. I wanted to see if Abigail was driving one.

At five fifteen, a steady stream of people began exiting the double glass doors leading from the building. I watched closely, my eyes peeled for Abigail. By six o’clock, she still had not come out. It occurred to me that maybe she only worked part-time at the sandwich shop.

Still, I waited. At six thirty, I gave up.

 

 

I checked my
messages as soon as I returned home. I had several hang-ups, and Ruth Melvin had left a message for me to call her as soon as possible. I dialed her number.

“Kate, I only arrived back in town last night, and I was so sorry to hear what happened at the anger management group. I understand you were quite the hero.”

I didn’t want to make Ruth feel bad by telling her how it had pretty much screwed up my life. “I’m just glad nobody was hurt,” I said.

“I knew old lady Bea was mean,” Ruth said, “but I never suspected she would actually try to shoot her daughter-in-law.”

“They need to lock her up and throw away the key.”

“Are you kidding? Her son bailed her out right away. She’s back in the house, living with him and the daughter-in-law. And you’re not going to believe this.” She paused. “The judge ordered her to take an anger management course.”

I don’t know who burst into laughter first, but before I knew it, Ruth and I were howling. “You’re making that up,” I said.

“As God is my witness,” Ruth said.

We finally managed to pull ourselves together.

“The other reason I’m calling,” she began, “is because several of the members want to keep meeting a couple of times a week, and guess who they want to run it?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “You,” she said.

“Me? Why would they ask for me? I didn’t think anyone there even liked me.”

“Well, Sarah-Margaret thinks you’re a Satanist for shooting the picture of Jesus, but she’s always been, um—”

“A raving lunatic?” I suggested.

Ruth laughed. “You’re much too kind. Actually, she has been hospitalized several times. She does fairly well as long as she takes her medication, but when she gets off, watch out! So, what do you think? Are you interested in running the group?”

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to find someone else,” I said. I’d had it with anger management.

Once we hung up, I went upstairs to change clothes. Mike followed me, and I told her about my day. There were times when she cocked her head a certain way and I felt she understood me.

When my doorbell rang, I headed downstairs, dressed in my jeans, a lightweight sweater, and my sneakers. I groaned when I spied Brother Love through the peephole. I knew if I didn’t answer he would continue to ring the bell. I pulled the chain off, unlocked the dead bolt, and opened the door.

“Ah, Sister Kate, it’s so nice to see you. I might add that you’re looking well.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Well, ah, I didn’t come here to bother you. I’m getting ready to travel to Tallahassee and join in a prayer vigil in hopes the Lord will be merciful and end the drought. But I could not leave without seeing you. I’d like to discuss a personal matter.” He glanced past me. “May I come in?”

“It’s not a good time,” I said.

“Sister Kate, I don’t know how else to say this, but I have developed strong feelings for you. I can’t get you off of my mind, even though I’ve prayed hard about it. The last thing I need is to become involved with a divorced woman who has fallen away from the flock, but I can’t help myself.”