Raphaela's Gift (23 page)

Besides, she didn't need a whole lot from a relationship. Didn't she like a touch of distance? Wasn't a man who was around her all the time suffocating?

She lifted her eyes to Marian's face, whose eyes were bright red, her face washed in tears. Faith cursed herself. She was a bitch. That was no way to talk to anyone, even someone as difficult as Marian.

And with guilt came doubt. If what Marian said was true, was she being selfish? And what about Raphaela? How would she handle it? There were so many questions. Yet, she couldn't retreat. "He's old enough to make his own decisions."

"Yes, of course he's old enough. But he's not thinking logically right now. He's thinking with his hormones, not his head. If you would back off, he'd come to his senses."

Faith swallowed. There was no way to win in this situation, and she was getting tired of trying, even if that meant she would pay an enormous price, more than she'd ever thought she would. "Outside of turning my back to Garret, it doesn't look like anything I do is going to help. Maybe you need to talk to someone else about this problem."

A boulder formed in Faith's throat after she spoke the words. She'd just suggested Marian take her problem to someone else, which could ultimately lead to her dismissal. Realization struck her hard between the eyes. "Would you like to talk to Frankie?" she offered, hoping Marian would concede. At least Frankie wouldn't make more trouble--maybe could even find a way to smooth things over.

"You know, I think that's a great idea. I’ll do as you suggest."

Faith's lungs filled completely for the first time since their conversation began.

"However, I think my first conversation will be with your director…" Marian shoved past her, knocking Faith off balance as she stormed from the room. Faith gripped the doorframe to steady herself, wishing she could steady her emotions as easily.

This was, without a doubt, the worst day of her life. Even if she had learned Garret was in love with her. Sitting, to avoid falling over, she waited for her next session to begin. The clients, Alex and his family, would be there within minutes. She tried to soothe her frayed nerves and stop the trembling of her hands.

Would this be the last art therapy session she held at Mountain Rise?

Immediately following her session with the family, which went well, despite her distraction, the expected summons to Angela Murphy's office came. She simply nodded, when the intern, Jesse, told her in his deep voice that she was needed at the director's office. She resolved to accept her boss' decision with quiet calm.

Yes, she loved her work at Mountain Rise, loved the fact that she touched so many families--families who really needed it. She'd only worked for one session, but she knew without any doubt she would have been happy working there for many more years.

She was prepared for the worst.

Walking solemnly down the corridor to Mrs. Murphy's office, she struggled to contain the pounding in her chest and the jumpy nerves running down her limbs. She'd never been good at conflict, never handled criticism well. Yet, in the past two weeks, she'd been forced to take more of both than she'd managed to dodge the rest of her life.

And she'd done okay.

Maybe not perfect, but certainly better than she believed she could.

Faith knocked on her boss's door and fought the urge to bolt, to run to her office, pack her bags, and leave for good.

The voice inside responded, "Come in." No secretary to screen her visitors, the camp's director maintained an open-door policy for both staff and patients. Faith felt a tiny niggle of relief that no secretary would be there to witness her being fired and spread rumors.

She opened the door, and immediately looked to Mrs. Murphy's face for some sign of what was to come. The woman's expression was grave. That couldn't be good.

"Faith, please have a seat," the director said, a middle-aged woman who normally possessed an extraordinarily cheerful demeanor, now turned unmistakably morose. She motioned toward the chair in front of her desk.

Faith hesitated then took a seat in the leather armchair, wishing it would swallow her up and carry her away. She waited.

"There has been a complaint," her boss said softly as her eyes scanned Faith's face. "A serious complaint. Are you aware of it?"

Faith nodded in answer to her boss' question. "Yes, I’m aware of Mrs. Damiani's complaint."

"Would you like to explain to me what happened?"

"What did Mrs. Damiani tell you?" she asked, a million possible responses whirling through her head. Should she even bother explaining?

"Mrs. Damiani says you have intentionally undermined her efforts to both reconcile with her ex-husband, and strengthen her relationship with her daughter. She further claims you have been physically intimate with Mr. Damiani."

The words hammered at Faith's guilt. In a way, she could understand how Marian felt. It sure looked as though she'd done everything Marian asserted--except the last. And if she were honest with herself, she would admit she'd thought plenty about that as well, she just hadn't been given the opportunity to actually do it. "It's not exactly as Mrs. Damiani said," she started, but then couldn't finish.

"So she is lying?"

"Not exactly lying. More jumping to conclusions."

Her boss leaned forward and with her gaze scouring Faith's face, said, "These are very serious charges. We cannot have this sort of thing here. Mountain Rise is subject to more than its share of criticism by the medical community, without the added ammunition of unprofessional behavior."

"I understand."

"We must not make it easier for the critics to find fault. Think of how many children we might fail to reach if we lose our credibility."

"You're right. I understand completely. But I did not sleep with him, and I did not try to undermine her efforts to reconcile with him. I tried to help her."

"She claims she has some photographs."

"Of what?" Faith asked, knowing that sort of thing could be taken out of context and made to appear much worse than it actually was. She wondered if Marian had shown them to Mrs. Murphy. She wondered how she'd gotten them from Steven.

"You and Dr. Damiani in Cooperstown, holding hands, kissing in broad daylight. I saw them."

"Oh." What more was there to say? She couldn't deny she had done those things. Marian must have suspected something all along, maybe even hired Steven to tail them. She'd never been the other woman, never had someone follow her, photograph her. It was creepy, unsettling.

"She is demanding your immediate removal from the staff and a cash compensation for damages and mental anguish."

"Can she do that?"

"I'm no lawyer, but I think she can." Her expression was not as condemning as Faith would have expected. "I don't know if I want to take this to our corporate attorney. I would rather work it out quietly, if possible."

The decision came to her in a bolt, from a stormy cloud of misery and indecision. "Then you have my resignation. I’ll put it in writing and offer it to you formally if you will hand me a pen and piece of paper."

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Faith nodded.

Mrs. Murphy smiled softly. "I'm sorry things did not work out for you here, Faith. You're a talented art therapist."

"I'm sorry too. Mountain Rise is a wonderful program. But this is the best thing for everyone. I’ll find another job." She hid her fears and disappointment under false bravado. Falling apart would accomplish nothing. It was too late. Too many people had been hurt by her immaturity.

Mrs. Murphy slid a piece of blank paper across the desktop and handed Faith a ballpoint pen. Blinking at burning eyes, and breathing slowly to avoid the sobs hanging in her gut, Faith wrote her resignation letter.

"Thank you, Faith. I wish you the very best." Mrs. Murphy said when Faith slid the paper across the desktop.

Faith couldn't speak. The sobs had risen into her throat, and she knew they'd burst out if she opened her mouth. She swallowed hard and smiled. With a nod, she stood and walked across the office and out the door.

Her career at Mountain Rise had ended. Where would she go now? She certainly couldn't go back to Detroit, where she'd briefly lived with Steven, or back to her mother's home in the western suburb of Cincinnati. She'd come so far to go back to that.

Maybe she'd stay in Akron. She had relatives there, could try getting another job in Kent. Before she'd come to Mountain Rise, she'd been content there.

Her decision eased her misery a touch. Not enough to diminish it to any significant degree, but enough to soften the blow slightly. And the realization that pursuing Garret was no longer forbidden helped a touch as well, although she hated to admit it, since her parting words to him had been so absolute.

Kent, Garret's hometown, a cute little college town with plenty of opportunity for a bright art therapist. She would not wallow in self-pity. This was only a setback, not a disaster.

And maybe even a blessing in disguise.

When she returned to her studio, she gathered several boxes of supplies, and swept the room with a final farewell glance. She'd never again step foot in the bright, sun filled room, never again watch the squirrels scamper up the tree outside the window. Never again, look into the eyes of an autistic child and welcome them to her world.

God, was she going to miss this place.

She carted the load out to her car and headed back to her office to gather some things there, before going to her cottage to pack her personal things. The air outside was thick with humidity, smelling of earth and leaves and the distant lake. Crickets sung, their song's tempo quick, in response to the rise in temperature over the past several days. It had to be close to one hundred today. A slick coat of sweat layered over her exposed skin and gathered at the waistband of her shorts. A trickle slid down her cleavage.

As she dropped the boxes into the tiny trunk, Garret's silky voice spoke behind her.

"Faith, what's happening? Are you going somewhere?"

She heated even more at the sound of his voice, but she didn't want to turn and face him, lose herself in his cool blue eyes. That would only frustrate and confuse her more. All she wanted was to lean into his embrace, but she knew that wasn't possible after so much had happened. Instead she rearranged the contents of her trunk and tried to look casual. "I'm just taking some things to a storage yard in town." The last thing she wanted to tell him was that Marian had gotten her fired.

"Funny, I don't remember seeing one." He paused, and she guessed he watched her as she nudged the boxes deep into the bowels of her trunk. When she didn't turn around, he asked, "Why won't you look at me? Did I do something wrong?"

She swallowed and turned to face him, donning a smile before she turned all the way around. "No, what makes you think that?"

His eyes, brilliant and flashing, huddled under dark, furrowed brows, darted over her features. "You're not acting like yourself. What's going on? And why did you say what you did earlier? You know I don't want to go back to Marian."

Damn, Faith wished she'd been more active in the Thespians in high school and college. She couldn't act her way out of a paper bag. "Nothing's going on. Really," she said, ignoring his last question. "Like I said, I'm just taking some extra supplies to the storage yard."

He continued to stare at her, and she resisted the urge to dash from his inquisitive gaze. "Why don't I go with you? We can make another day of it: do lunch, maybe a nice walk."

Marian had obviously not told him what she'd done--yet. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I should go by myself. Don't you have to pack, get ready to go home tomorrow?"

"Is that why you look so glum? Are you disappointed I'm leaving?"

She smiled. He was cute when he was being immodest. "My, aren't you modest? Actually, I'm feeling a little under the weather." She pointed up at the blazing sun. "I can't wait for fall. This heat is killing me. I never thought I'd hear myself say that." She forced another smile.

"Oh," he said, staggering backward melodramatically. "I've been speared by the razor-edged sword of…gulp, indifference. You wield it with such skill, milady. So you won't be missing me then?" He raised one jaunty eyebrow.

The heavy sadness in her chest lifted a tiny bit more. "Who wouldn't miss you?"

"That's better. Actually, I want to give you my card." He slipped a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. She took it, looking down to read the print as he continued. "I'd like to keep in touch, take you to dinner sometime."

"That's very nice, but it might be kind of tough, since you live in Ohio, and Mountain Rise is here in Kentucky." She met his gaze.

He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "No biggie, five hours isn't that long of a drive."

She couldn't help chuckling. He was unique, a softie, once he shed his spiny shell. "You would drive five hours one way to go to dinner with me?"

"You know I would."

Her mood plummeted. This wasn't right, lying to him. He deserved better. It was clear his feelings were genuine. "Actually, that won't be necessary."