The piece of stationery was pink and tear-stained. Whether they were my tears or Gina’s, I wasn’t sure. The pain was still new and raw.
Six months had passed, but I hadn’t dealt with all these emotions. Oh, I put up a good front. I told the few who knew that I’d made peace as best I could with what had occurred, and I repeated my own advice—advice I gave to all my patients—in my head. You have to want to heal, and you have to do it for yourself. Did I not want to heal on some subconscious level? Many times I’d thought about calling Brad for my own benefit, but I hadn’t. I resisted.
Physician, heal thyself.
I glanced up the wall behind my desk. My MD was framed there, along with my master’s in psychotherapy.
I should be able to get through this. I knew that.
Could a doctor ever get over losing a patient?
My hands trembled as my gaze, seemingly of its own accord, was drawn like a magnet to Gina’s words.
Dear Dr. Carmichael,
I can no longer go on.
This isn’t your fault. You did your best to try to help me, but I’ll never be able to forget what my uncle did to me when I was so young. I tried, and I prayed that I could heal, but it’s just not in the cards for me.
There’s something else I need to tell you. This isn’t easy for me, and I wish with all my soul that I had the courage to tell you in person.
I love you.
And no, I don’t mean I love you as a friend or as a therapist. I mean I’m in love with you. I’m truly in love with you.
I don’t normally fall in love with women, at least I never have before. The feelings I have for you are so strong that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything close to them for anyone, male or female. I dream of kissing your red lips, taking you into my bed and making love. I dream of you holding me in your arms, chasing the beasts away.
I don’t expect you to return my feelings. I know you could never be interested in someone as horribly defective as I am. But before I leave this earth forever, I want you to know how I feel.
Please don’t blame yourself. I know you did your best for me. No one on this Earth could have helped me. I’m too damaged. I wanted to be whole, but I know now that I never will be. I’m not good enough for you or anyone else. You deserve so much better.
That’s why I must leave. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve chosen a painless and cowardly way to die. For that’s what I am, a coward. I don’t have anything more to give to this life.
I will love you forever, even beyond the grave.
Yours,
Gina
I sighed as tears emerged in the corners of my eyes. I had a good record with my patients. I was able to help most of them, and the few I couldn’t help, I always referred to someone else.
But I hadn’t been able to help Gina Cates. She’d come to me about a year ago, suffering from night terrors and depression. She’d been repeatedly raped by her uncle between the ages of eight and thirteen. She never told anyone about the abuse, and the uncle was now dead. However, I’d been blind to the fact that she’d fallen in love and blind to the fact that she was suicidal. That haunted me to this day. Was it because I was a straight woman that I didn’t recognize that another woman loved me? I’d been over and over it in my mind. I should’ve noticed. I should’ve had her hospitalized. I should’ve done a lot of things, but I hadn’t.
If I had, Gina might still be alive.
She had closed herself in her garage, opened her car windows, and turned on the ignition. The carbon monoxide put her to sleep and killed her peacefully. She stayed in her garage for three days, until I received the letter. I alerted her parents and the police, saying I was concerned because she’d missed an appointment, and they found her.
I never told anyone about her letter.
I cradled my head in my hands, sitting down in my chair at my desk. I concentrated on holding back the tears that wanted to fall, until I jerked forward. Someone had knocked on my door.
I grabbed a tissue and wiped my eyes and nose quickly. I cleared my throat. “Yes, come on in, Randi.” I stood.
But it wasn’t Randi who opened my door.
Jonah Steel, in all his masculine glory, walked into my office.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I think I left my—”
I ran into his arms, nearly knocking him over. The tears I’d tried so hard to hold back gushed forth, wetting his black cotton shirt.
He gently stroked my hair, saying nothing. I held on to him in a fierce clench. He was so hard, so solid…like a rock in the midst of a stormy hurricane at sea. I sobbed into his shoulder, soaking him, but still he stroked my hair, murmuring gentle sounds.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
Oh, if he only knew.
He moved backward, trying to release my hold on him. At the thought of him leaving, I grabbed him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pulled his mouth toward mine.