Sacrifice (7 page)

“
I swear if we keep hanging around your uncle, one of us is going to be arrested for conspiracy,” Dallas mused as he settled down on the bed and started removing his shoes.

I grabbed for my robe behind my bathroom door. “He does know quite a few disreputable types. His dinner conversation always tends to be a bit shocking.”

Dallas shook his head. “I have some former bosses at the FBI who would kill to spend five minutes with your uncle and pick his brains about Carl Bordonaro. They’ve been trying to nail that guy for years.”

“
Don’t say that to Uncle Lance. He and Uncle B go way back. He adores that round little man.”

“
Uncle B?” Dallas laughed. “I hope that doesn’t mean he’s going to be invited to the wedding.”

I shrugged. “With Uncle Lance you never know.”

Dallas rubbed the back of his neck and let out a long, heavy sigh.

“
You didn’t seem to eat too much at dinner,” I commented. I walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. “I haven’t seen you put away that much alcohol since we were first thrown together in New York last December.” I ran my fingers over his dark hair. “Care to tell me what’s bothering you?” I softly asked.

He rubbed his face in his hands. “Your father wants me to take you out tomorrow to talk to you about something.”

I quickly pulled my hand away from him and placed it in my lap. “I thought you were going back to Connecticut tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “He asked me to postpone my trip for a few days because he wants you to see someone.”

I leaned slightly away from him. “See who?” I asked warily.

“
There’s a psychologist…”

“
Are you kidding me?” I jumped up from the bed and bolted for the bedroom door.

“
Nicci, hear me out.” He stood up and followed behind me.

He reached the door at the same time I did. And instead of letting me walk out of the room, he held the door closed in front of me with one long, powerful arm.

“
I know you don’t want to go and see any kind of shrink, especially after what happened with Michael,” he said behind me. “But I don’t know what is going on with you anymore. And you’re father is worried as hell about you.”

I turned to meet his cool gaze. “So does everyone think I’m crazy?”

Dallas slammed his fist into the door behind me. “You know what the problem is,” he griped. “I don’t have to spell it out for you.”

He stepped away and ran his hand over the back of his neck.

“
David,” I stated without thinking. “You’re talking about David.”

He nodded slightly. “Ever since the wedding it’s like you’ve become obsessed with him. When we were in Connecticut you never said a word about him, now he creeps into every conversation we have.” He looked down at the oak hardwood floor. “I believed when you moved in with me that you were done with David,” he whispered.

“
I thought you didn’t want to talk about him anymore. When we moved to Connecticut, you made it pretty clear that you wanted me to move on.”

His artic eyes met mine. “I never said that.”

“
You didn’t have to. When you took the portrait he painted for you of Jenny and put it into storage, I got the impression that the subject of David was not open for discussion anymore.”

“
That’s not what I intended. I thought it was a new beginning for us. I wanted to put reminders of the past away. I figured that would be best for both of us.”

I searched his face for a moment. “Are you jealous of David?” I eventually asked him.

He put his hands on his hips. “Do you know how hard it has been for me to be the man that came after David? Wondering all of the time if you were thinking of him? Comparing me to him?” He shook his head. “I’m getting real tired of trying to figure out exactly where I belong in this relationship, Nicci.”

“
That was never my intention.” I took a breath and let it out slowly as I watched his eyes devouring mine. “I’ve always cared—”

“
Don’t give me that bullshit again! I gave up everything I knew to be with you, and all you can say is that you care for me.” His voice was cold and harsh. “I can’t go on like this. You need to make up your mind about us. You either want me, or you don’t.”

I watched how the fine muscles in his cheek quivered with anger. “Stop it, Dallas! I’ve got enough to handle without you throwing ultimatums at me,” I shouted.

Dallas turned away from me. “I can’t talk to you anymore. Every time we get on the subject of your feelings for me, you clam up.” He walked to the foot of the bed and grabbed his pajama bottoms lying across the comforter. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room next door.” He went to the bathroom and pulled his robe off the hook behind the door. “I’ll tell your father in the morning that you’ve agreed to go to the psychologist,” he added as he kept his back to me.

“
And what if I don’t want to go to anyone?”

He turned to me. “You’ll go to placate your father. He wants this and I couldn’t talk him out of it.” He pulled a white card out of his pants pocket and threw it on the bed. “The name and number are on the card. Maybe you can finally open up to someone because you sure as hell have never been able to open up to me.”

I made my way across the room. “I would have thought after last night…”

He threw his robe and pajamas over his shoulder and then walked to my bedroom door. “Having sex with me is not opening up to me, Nicci!” he snapped.

“
I beg to differ,” I coolly objected.

He reached the door and placed his hand on the brass doorknob. “I gave up my past when we started our life together in Connecticut. But you have never really put your past behind you, Nicci. And you need to do that, otherwise we don’t stand a chance.” He hurried through the door and then slammed it behind him.

I sat down on my bed. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to see some shrink!” I called out in the empty room.

And that, I had convinced myself, was my final word on the matter. But as I sat on the bed, the small white card Dallas had thrown onto the comforter distracted me. I reached over and picked up the card, kneading it between my fingers for a few minutes before I finely got up the nerve to look down and read it.

Chapter
Five

Dr. Andrea Appell was a psychologist who apparently specialized in stress disorders. At least that is what my father told me two days later when he took me to my nine o’ clock appointment with the woman.

“
Just talk to her, Nicci. Please do this for me,” my father begged as he dropped me outside of the medical office building across from Touro Hospital on Prytania Street. “She came highly recommended and I’m told she is the best. So give her a try. Dallas will be by to pick you up in about an hour.”

Why I had made the appointment to go to the psychologist that morning had resulted from an overburden of guilt from my father. Uncle Lance had advised me to just go along with my father’s wishes.

“
The less he worries about you, the less suspicious he will be of the time we are going to have to spend together in order to find out what happened to David.” Uncle Lance had whispered to me as I had walked out the front door of my father’s home earlier that morning.

I remember at the time thinking he was right, but as I stood outside of Dr. Appell’s office, I began to have doubts about my uncle’s game plan. It’s one thing to think you are crazy, but it’s quite another thing entirely to seek help for it.

“
Welcome, Nicci,” a very tall woman with sandy brown hair said as I walked into the office. “I’m Andrea Appell. I’m so glad you could make it today. Do you mind if I call you Nicci?”

I shook my head. “No, Nicci is fine.”

Her small office was decorated in soft browns and pale earth tones. The assorted small glass tables on either end of her brown leather couch were filled with glowing candles. Soothing pictures of ocean views decorated her walls while the faintest sound of a flowing stream could be heard coming from a sound machine in the corner of the room.

“
Thank you for fitting me into your schedule, Dr. Appell. My father was rather insistent about my seeing you,” I said nervously while trying to absorb the relaxing atmosphere emanating from the room.

Dr. Appell studied me for a moment with her warm brown eyes. “Well, from what you told me on the phone, your father sounds very worried about you.” She motioned to the brown leather couch behind her. “Why don’t you have a seat here and we’ll get started.”

I gingerly took my place on the couch and warily watched as Dr. Appell had a seat in an overstuffed brown leather chair across from me.

She picked up a pen and notebook that were sitting on a glass table to her right. “I got a little bit from you on the phone, but why don’t you tell me what has brought you here today. Why do you feel you need counseling?”

I looked at the woman dumbfounded. “My father wanted me to come.”

“
I understand that, but this is about you and not your father, Nicci.” She nodded. “What has led you here? What has brought you to this point in your life?”

“
What has led me here?” I shook my head and smiled at her. “That’s simple,” I assured her.

Dr. Appell laughed slightly. “I’m glad you find that a simple request. Most of my clients think that’s one of the hardest questions they have ever had to answer.” Dr. Appell wrote something in her notebook.

“
For me there is only one thing, no…one person who has brought me to this point in my life. His name was David. He’s the reason I’m here today. He made me what I am.”

She glanced up from her notepad and slowly smiled. “Tell me about David.”

“
About David…” I felt my voice catch in my throat at the mention of his name. My heart started beating wildly and my palms began to sweat. Every detail about David that I had tried to suppress since moving in with Dallas came barreling up from deep inside of me. It was as if the past three years had finally caught up with me and I was confronted by all of the death, violence, intrigue, and danger I had endured. I was blindsided by a wall of mixed emotions. I felt my stomach tighten with anxiety as my eyes filled with tears. Into my mind popped an image of David, standing before me and smiling down on me with his warm gray eyes.

“
David was…” I took a deep breath and fought for control over my emotions. “He was everything to me. And then he died.”

Dr. Appell grabbed a box of tissue from the table beside her. She handed the tissue to me and nodded. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? Tell me about the day you and David met,” she suggested in a soothing voice.

And for the next hour I told the psychologist about my life with David; our love affair, his painting, and his sudden murder. I went on and on about the enigma that had been David Alexander.

***

“
Not long after the whole Michael Fagles incident, Dallas and I moved to Connecticut and started living together. He took over his family’s yacht building business while I finished my next novel,” I explained as our time came to a close.

Dr. Appell put her pen down on the notebook in her lap and sat back in her chair. She watched my expression for a few moments with her warm brown eyes.

“
That’s quite a lot of living crammed into a few short years, Nicci. And when did David first appear to you? And how many times have you seen him since?”

“
I’ve just seen him once. A few days ago, after my cousin’s wedding in the French Quarter.”

Dr. Appell quietly contemplated me as I sat on the couch in front of her.

“
Do you think what you saw was real, Nicci?” she inquired.

Like most situations involving mental illness there is no right answer, but a hell of a lot of wrong ones. I just hoped I could offer the answer that no longer brought my sanity into question.

“
No, he can’t be alive,” I mumbled and hung my head, hoping I sounded like I was convinced.

“
But I know you would very much like for him to be,” Dr. Appell confided. “There’s nothing wrong with wishing for those that we have lost to return to us, Nicci.” She leaned in closer to me. “And there’s nothing wrong with seeing them every now and then either,” she added with a wink.

“
Isn’t that a little like saying it’s OK to hallucinate?”

“
No, there is not one thing wrong with seeing the dead,” Dr. Appell replied. “Ghost chasers do it all the time. When we are stressed and tired we see things. Or perhaps we long to see those that we have loved return to us again.” Dr. Appell nodded at me. “You’re not hallucinating. You know right from wrong, and you’re not on the verge of a psychotic episode. You’re a very levelheaded woman who has lost a great love. The mistake most people make is in believing that they must recover from such a loss, but the truth is we never really recover. We just go on and live our lives to the best of our abilities.”

“
So you’re saying everyone should just deal with me being the way I am?” I asked, feeling hopeful.

“
Yes,” Dr. Appell confirmed. “But I do think you need time to sort some things out, and an unbiased ear might help.” She looked down at the notebook in her lap. “I would like to see you again next week, Nicci.”

“
You want me to come back? But you just said I was fine, level headed and all?”