Void (7 page)

When I got to the back, I saw a session in which my uncle talked with her about the death of her parents. Daughter of Senator Michael Forbes who was killed in a plane crash along with his young wife, when the woman, Nicola, was just in high school.

Nicola Forbes was informed of her parents passing today. Her teachers thought it best that she was told in the presence of her psychiatrist just in case this incident was the start of a chain reaction that would set her off. I sat her in the same chair that she sat in when she first started coming to our clinic and had sessions with my father. I watched her as her eyes wandered around the room, the surroundings familiar to her, but still seeming new. She was older now at fourteen years old; growing up in front of our eyes, but yet, not changing in too many ways. She had a plethora of support surrounding her, including two of her instructors from school as well as the counselor and principal. They all stood around her as she sat in the chair in front of me like she had so many times before.

“Nicola?”

“Yes, Doctor Gunn?”

“We have brought you here today because we have some news we need to tell you. Your teachers are all here for support, as well as Principal Masters.”

She nodded her head and looked at the three women standing behind her before turning her piercing blue eyes back to me.

“Your mother and father were killed in a plane crash today on their way to Washington D.C. The plane went down somewhere in Pennsylvania. We don’t know what happened, or what could have caused the crash, but we do know that no one survived.”

I waited for the moment when the switch would flip on in her brain; the moment that we all thought would trigger some sort of reaction out of her.

But nothing came.

She sat stoically staring at me, not a tear to her eyes nor a change in her breathing. She sat poised, ladylike, and stiff like a socialite would be expected to present themselves.

“Do you understand what I just told you?”

“Yes, Sir. I do. My parents were killed in a plane crash.”

“And how does that make you feel?

“How is it supposed to make me feel?”

That was the same response I got out of her every time I questioned what she was feeling. I took a deep breath, frustrated that after nine years there was absolutely no progress made with this patient. I have waited and watched this girl grow up. The emptiness inside of her becomes more prevalent as time goes by.

“Well, in your situation, most people would feel sad. They would probably cry and mourn for their loved ones.”

“Well, Doctor Gunn, I don’t know what love is. I don’t know what love feels like. I would cry, only I don’t know what would cause me to do that. My parents, if you didn’t notice, didn’t have much to do with me. I’ve been thrown away into boarding schools and left to myself while they would gallivant around the country. I’m sorry that my lack of sadness seems to upset you.”

The last bit of her statement caught my attention. Not only had Nicola had difficulties recognizing her own emotions, but also recognizing emotions in others.

“You understood that I was upset by your lack of response?”

“Well, I have been coming to see you and Senior Mr. Gunn for the last nine years. I have learnt your facial expressions and have caught on to what seems to upset or frustrate you. I just don’t feel anything.”

Progress.

She recognized my emotions through repetition. Maybe this was something that we needed to progress with further in order to find our breakthrough.

I finished reading the notes my uncle had taken. I could hear the excitement in his writing after discovering her recognition of certain emotions. Even though he had made an ass out of himself and the family name by becoming involved with the Cardinelli family, he was a very good doctor. He was very intuitive, smart, and could often have found a solution to his patient’s problems after one session, but the man lacked common sense. I lifted the page I just finished reading to find another note written just three days after.

Nicola missed her appointment today. Called to leave messages at her home, but the phone was disconnected. I called her school, but they said she had been removed due to circumstances they weren’t allowed to disclose.

I looked over at the chart on the inside flap of the folder, where we kept an attendance of when the patients came to their sessions. I noticed that Nicola didn’t return for nearly seven months after the session she found out about her parents. My brows furrowed together as I wondered what it was that could have kept her away from her therapy for so long. Nine years was quite a long time, and probably one of only a few constants in her life.

I looked at the gold Rolex watch on my left wrist, a present from my grandfather when I graduated. My first appointment wasn’t due for another twenty minutes, so I decided to run out to the lobby to refill my coffee cup and stretch my legs before I was stuck behind my desk all day.

I motioned for Laura Lee to sit back down when she saw me pass by her desk.

“I got it,” I smiled and she smiled back quickly before going back to work with preparing the files of the patients who were to be seen in the clinic today. Picking up one of the little coffee cups that we kept on a neat little stand, that housed several different flavors and brews, I inserted it into the machine and closed the lid, pressing the button. I watched as the steaming liquid poured into the cup and the great aroma filtered into the waiting area. Dumping in my required amount of six sugars and four creamers into the steaming liquid, I gave it a quick stir before taking a long draw. I didn’t care that it singed the tip of my tongue. The only thing I needed was the jolt of the caffeine as it fired into my system due to my late night.

I vaguely remembered the bell of the lobby room door ringing, signaling the arrival of the day’s first patient. A middle aged man wearing plaid golfer’s pants and a pastel salmon colored shirt, approached Laura Lee at her desk. I was getting such a kick out of how someone could walk out into public wearing such attire, that I didn’t register the bell ringing again. I began to walk towards the door, that would lead me to my office, and had my hand poised on the knob when I heard a familiar voice. One that haunted my dreams all night long as I tossed and turned in my oversized luxurious bed, alone. I had memorized every shape of her body, every line and curve that made up the beauty that invaded my thoughts. I could still smell the soft scent of her skin and the way that her arm burned into mine as she walked beside me.

“Nicola Forbes to see Dr. Gunn please.”

I turned around, not quite sure if I had heard her correctly. My mouth went instantly dry and I had to mentally coerce my cock not to stand at attention from the electricity of her beauty shocking my system.

She signed a clipboard and then handed it back to Laura Lee, smiling politely. I was jealous of her teeth. The way that her lips framed them, just barely touching the rims of the plump redness. I noticed the way her ruby lipstick made her teeth beautifully white, and how her high cheekbones made her eyes squint slightly as she smiled. The coffee cup in my hands nearly plummeted to the floor as my hands began to slightly tremble from the nearness of her.

In an instant, she looked up, as if sensing me, the smile still present on her face. It only faltered for a fraction of a second before she scanned me from head to toe.

“Sinclaire?”

“MISS LANE,” Sinclaire nodded at me. The lady sitting in the reception chair flicked her eyes rapidly back and forth between me and him as we all said nothing for several long seconds. I wished I could explain what happened when I saw him standing there. It was almost like someone had taken a car battery, hooked it to cables and touched every single place on my body. I could feel every tiny, nearly invisible hair on my body stand on its ends, as tingles ran unobstructedly throughout.

“Well,
Sinclaire
,” the lady behind the reception desk stated with a hint of humor in her voice as she said his name, “Your first appointment is here.”

“Right this way, Miss Lane,” he said as he pushed open the door leading back to a set of offices, all in which I was familiar with.

“Forbes.”

He stopped, turning around as his dark eyebrow arched in question.

“My name is Nicola Forbes. Jericho is something I use for…”

“I understand, Miss Forbes. Follow me please.” His short, clipped tone caught me slightly off guard.

Was he new to the clinic? But more importantly, why was he the one who led me to my client last night? A plethora of questions circumnavigated their way through my brain on our short walk to his office. He paused at the door, gesturing with his hand for me to enter. The smell of his cologne overtook my senses as I walked past him. I walked in, familiar with the same bookshelf, and nearly the same table of blocks that sat in the corner from the time I was five years old.

“This was old man Gunn’s office,” I stated as I removed my purse from my shoulder and sat down in a chair in front of the desk. I crossed my legs, sitting tall with my chin held high—a move that I had perfected over the years.

“It was,” he replied as he undid the buttons on his jacket before sitting down in the overly large leather chair behind the desk. I may not have been able to feel or have a solid understanding of those feelings, but I had learned to read facial expressions and to be able to label emotions through them. As I watched Sinclaire, I noticed the dark blue rim of his eyes blended in with the darkening blue of his irises, making them look like pools of navy ink, or a starless sky. His jaw was firm as he chewed on the inner side of his lip, debating with himself over what to say next. I sat there, not breaking eye contact, partly because it was how I had been bred, and partly because I didn’t want to. His eyes were something I could stare into all day. They were beautiful, something to appreciate, a masterful work of God. I watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, following it down the line of his jaw to rest on his perfect lips. I admired the gentle wave in his hair and how a few tendrils seemed to always fall just above his brow.

“Miss Lane,” he said in a rush of breath.

“Nicola. My name is Nicola,” I corrected him. He closed his eyes only for a brief second and then re-opened them.

“Nicola, my uncle, Robert Gunn whom you are familiar with, is retiring as of next week. I will be taking over the clinic as well as becoming the doctor to oversee your therapy.”

Right down to business, like there wasn’t a giant elephant in the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a doctor? More importantly, that you were going to be
my
doctor, last night?”

“I had no idea who you were last night. You were introduced as Jericho Lane, I assumed that was your name. I had no knowledge that you were a patient here at the clinic, nor did I know that your name was Nicola Forbes.”

“Not even when you read my file?” I asked gesturing with my eyes toward the manila folder on his desk that had my name scrawled across the top.

“No, I didn’t put two and two together, until I saw you standing at the reception desk.” I believed him, especially if his reaction was any indication.

“I can always turn over your case to one of the other doctors in the clinic if you feel like the situation of
last night
would compromise your care.”

His eyes darkened when he spoke about last night and I felt the surface of my skin flush, sending a wave of heat through me. The physicality that I felt while in his presence last night wasn’t like any other sexual experience I had ever had. My senses were heightened on so many levels when my mind and body were both taken possession from
him.