Husband Rehab (15 page)

When Christine returns from work, she comes bearing good news: The wives of last week’s patients are ecstatic. In fact, the donations to Birchall’s new foundation exceed the property taxes for last year and this year, with some left over. Christine has already ordered a contractor to start work on patching the roof.
 

“I’ve spoken to Lady Dooley,” Christine says, as she heads to the servant’s kitchen to check on the men. “She called and said she wants a renewal of vows ceremony for Lennox and Stella. You understand, don’t you, how serious this is? They will be joined together, in the old fashion.”

Christine pauses long enough for Josie to see her brow knit. “Joined?”

“The high priestess will become enemy number one if Lennox doesn’t prove to be a success. I’m sorry but it all rides on him. We have to make him appear to love her. You have to. It’s serious, Josie. I’m sure you understand what Lady Dooley is capable of. I know she wants a healer under her thumb. Stella claims she’s protecting Lennox by controlling him. I’m afraid she’ll give him up, if she can’t have him all to herself. My fear is what would happen to him if he’s seen as a threat. We have to protect Lennox.” Christine leaves Josie standing alone, her words ringing in the hall. “He has to love her.”

Just appear, or truly love her?

When Josie sees Lennox hurrying up the narrow corridor, he distracts her from asking the question. He signals. She almost runs to him. She follows him down another corridor that leads to the salon. He cracks open the double doors and pushes inside. He admires the room as if he’s seeing it for the first time. Someone has polished the dark wood paneling and even the eagles carved into the mahogany frieze.

“One of my favorite places here, so far,” he says.

“You’re in a good mood.”

He waves her suggestion away. “Not really. I sent them—to Stella—the divorce papers. My lawyer sent a message saying she signs them or I go public with everything. I also learned how to do the ritual; they call it the Ceremony of Death and Rebirth. Morbid, eh? It’s in that book. Lady Dooley found it. We need a few other members. Christine and Aunt Emma will do it. Won’t they? You’re right. We just drink from a chalice and say some words—”

“Uh …”

He scowls when he sees her hesitate. “What is it?”

“Stella … and Lady Dooley … they say I have to fix you.”

“Of course they do. Or …?”

“Or else they shut us down.”

He glances around the room. “
Husband Rehab
?”

“Yeah.”

“No ...”

“Yeah.”

“Dammit!” He tenses enough she thinks he might start yelling. “Stella won’t sign with Dooley willing to go to bat for her. I’m an idiot. She’s got me. She’s always got me.” He panics, a man pleading for his life but knowing no one will listen. “You were my last hope.” Lennox edges around her to leave

She grabs his elbow. “Lennox …”

“I can’t ask you to do this,” he says, “not when Birchall is the price. Besides, those guys in there need your help. Sounds like their wives are good women who want them back, except for Mr. Pepper. You can help them. You should help them.”

Josie pulls him close and holds him in a hug.

Both of them stare into each other’s eyes for longer than they should.

She feels his heart beating against her chest, feels him breathing deeply.

She sees him shaking his head ...

“I love you, Lennox Cruz.”

Josie’s jaw hinges open as she realizes what she just said. She said the words she’s imagined saying since a little girl. She’s said them in her dreams, and fantasies. Here she is in his arms …
 

Oh my god
.
I told him I love him

“I can’t believe I said that.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, and squeezes her a little.
 

She lowers her head, maybe to hide inside his chest cavity. He smells so good that she wants to nuzzle her nose in his shirt.

“I was hoping we could get to know each other better,” he says, “once everything is settled. I told my wife I want out.” He softens, pulling her closer. “I told her, Josie. I told her.”

“This is too fast,” Josie manages. “I’m an idiot, obviously. You have a life in California—”

“—that I don’t want.”

“You’re involved with a powerful witch whose godmother—”

“—is a grand dame and high priestess.”

“Yeah.”

He grabs her chin as if he owns it. “And I’m falling for an up-and-coming witch who’s had the best idea since sliced bread.”

She looks into his eyes and sees him smiling down at her and believes, if just for a few seconds, that this might work, might somehow play out in a way that disaster doesn’t follow, even though she’s got a psychotic witch to avoid and an old one sniffing at her heels.
 

Josie finds herself pulling away.

Why, why, why, did I stop him from hugging me
?

“No … don’t …” he says, coming after her. He catches her before she reaches the door. “Don’t leave.”

“Lennox, we shouldn’t …”

“I’m done with her.”

“No you’re not. I have to fix you.”

“Can you? I don’t think so.”

His hands encircle her waist. She doesn’t pull them off, even when they reach under her shirt. She feels his fingers running up her back, kneading the muscles along her spine. She tries not to groan, but his hands are so strong. He’s moving his lips closer to hers, and she keeps turning her face away. No, no, no, I can’t do this, not if I have to enthrall him. It’ll kill me. I’ve imagined this so many times. He’s here, with me, alone, and he wants me …

Don’t be a fool
.
 

She realizes she’s kissing him, the kind of kiss reserved for the movies, or for two people who might never kiss again. Josie commits to the moment, the controlling center of her mind crumbling in his heady embrace. She can’t resist as he probes deeper with his tongue. In seconds, clothes begin to shed. No way she could stop now. Not that she would try. The banished thought flees as if it never was. When he grabs her legs and presses her against the wall, she wraps them around him like a conquering spider queen. She feels light in his arms. Her passion switch flips; she begins to scratch at him, and even bite to let him know she likes it rough. She wants him to lose control. She doesn’t want it slow, steady. She wants him to be wall-eyed and stunned when it is over. She wants him to remember Josie Bran.
 

The bucking continues for minutes.

She can tell he is doing all he can to maintain control.

Either he cramps up or his knees weaken, but he takes her to the ground. She forces him to his back and ends the moment with a she-growl. They finish together in several rhythmic thrusts that could have been choreographed.

She kisses him deeply, running her finger nails along his sweaty chest, where his shirt has ripped open. They lay together, each breath in sync, neither of them saying a word. They remain connected, as if they are still one body, like two people who’ve been together a life time and plan to spend another and another and another. Her thoughts remain even and calm. She lets herself enjoy the smell of his skin, the salty taste of his sweat on her tongue. It all feels so right she can imagine them spending the entire night here curled up on the floor. When he begins to twirl a finger into her hair, smiling as he does, she nibbles on his earlobe and runs a finger nail along the groove of his spine. A few chaste kisses on the lips mean she is his forever. She believes he feels the same. It’s as if it is meant to be: all her time wondering if they would be together, the infatuation that kept her at a distance, the friendship that never spoke the name Love.
 

She stands, lets him get a good look at her long legs and then moves for the jeans that lay in a crumple.
 

“You wild thing,” he says, “I … uh … I …”
 

“You what?” she asks, getting dressed. They both begin to laugh. “You want more?”

He nods.
 

“Not now,” she commands.

She is taking a huge risk—someone could have come walking down the corridor. Still, she basks in the moment, watching him happily arranged himself. When he fixes his shirt and combs his fingers though his hair, he looks like he might have done a few pushups, or jumping-jacks. Nothing more strenuous, except for one scratch mark on his neck. She was careful. But that one got by her.

They embrace. “We shouldn’t have done that.” She waits, hoping he challenges her.

“Josie,” he says, “we had to do that.”

She feels her heart expand with the sort of wild passion that would have made her run off with him a few years ago—if she’d only had the guts to tell him her feelings. She felt that way for her last boyfriend, the one she quit school for and drove around in a smelly van with. That is, until she caught him with another woman. As much of an infatuation she has for Lennox Cruz, she isn’t a fool. No more rushing in. He’ll have to work if he wants her.
 

“I still have to fix you,” she says.

“Good luck with that.”

His smile makes her think that maybe, just maybe, they might survive. Maybe he’ll fight to be with her.

“You have to renew your vow, Lennox.”

The muscles on the side of his jaws flex. “My vow?”

“Yep.”

“I never made any vow.”

“Well, you will now. Or Lady Dooley will shut us down. They’re going to join you to Stella.”

“Join? Like in the book? I can fake it.”

“You’ll have to convince them you’re fixed.”

“Is that what you want, to fix me?”

“Of course not.”

“We can fake it.”

“It won’t work.”
 

A moment of confusion. “I came here to get away from her.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I want to help …”

“But Birchall …”

She nods. “Birchall.”

“Do your best, Josie. I’ll prove it to you. It won’t work, not in the end. You’ll see.”

She feels a mountain of hope surge out of this tumultuous sea she’s drowning in. “I hope so.”

* * *

In her secure workroom, Josie prepares spells late into the evening. She feels invigorated, thoughts of Lennox breaking free of his wife, proving that no magic can bind him to her, keeps her focused.
 

For big-boy Buckston Polk she prepares a stout potion that will cause him to drop whatever he’s doing at five pm. He’ll be unable to work. In fact, any attempt will be met with an immediate suggestion that he and his wife go for a walk in the park, or sit in a nice restaurant with a bottle of wine. For, LaFayette, a fine powder blown in the face will make him go on a cleaning spree. She hopes that doesn’t backfire because a hoarder has real mental problems. Worse, he could drop dead of a heart attack during a marathon session of house cleaning. She’ll warn him, of course, to have someone nearby. For Mr. Pepper, a dash of sugar in a drink will do nothing at all. She can’t find it in herself to tell him he married a lesbian or, worse, accidentally make him think he made his wife into loving women. Most likely, his wife will not come back to him if he changes any behavior. A placebo is the best thing for him.

She applies herself to the final steps of brewing the following morning, then speaks to each patient. All the while Lennox remains in the back of her mind, Lennox and his promise to return to her.

Josie eats lunch in the servant’s kitchen, while Alice prepares homemade brownies. Alice hums while she works, which is a nice distraction. Still, Josie can’t help but hope that she and Lennox have a chance. In fact, she’s convinced she can brew a quick concoction that will make him smiley, pliable, and charming to everyone for a few weeks. That should be enough to win over Stella and Lady Dooley—and get him through saying a false vow. Lennox can then continue the act as long as he sees fit, until he finds another solution.

Then he can come back to me, she thinks.

Josie allows herself the luxury of a light heart as she finishes lunch and wanders through Birchall. She thinks she might go for a walk outside, then maybe an afternoon nap, before the charade continues, until she sees Lady Dooley, Stella, and Roxy arrive together. They exit Lady Dooley’s fine automobile, as if they’ve been in congress all morning. They even chat as they walk toward the porch.

Josie stands her ground in the vestibule.

Roxy Rhodes enters first with an evil grin.
 

Something’s wrong …

Roxy’s the only woman in the coven accused of playing with dark magics. It was a minor offense, apparently, and happened before Josie started coming around. But rumor says Roxy tried to summon a demon to aid her in some scheme. It’s also rumored her husband, when he’s walking the straight-and-narrow, only does it because of a twisted spell she’s cast on him.

Why would she be with them now, Josie wonders?

Lady Dooley approaches. “Go get your dram, sunshine. It’s time to finish this business.” She looks around, as if expecting Mr. Dooley to come running down the stairs, screaming like a six year old. “Have you fixed my husband’s … issue?”

“Not yet.”

“You’ll get to it?”

“Yes, ma’am, as soon as we settle these other issues.”

“Indeed.”

Both Stella and Roxy glower like long-lost comrades who’ve found each other after years of searching.

“Well?” Lady Dooley says. “Run along.”

Josie takes her time retrieving Lennox’s mood enhancer. They meet in the drawing room. The sun has dipped below the other side of the house; late afternoon paints the room in enough diffused light to see motes floating in the air. Lady Birchall snores in her favorite chair. Christine sits nearby in case the old woman awakes. Lennox slouches on one of the settees, a man beset upon by a gaggle of harpies, each one with her own agenda. Stella sits across from him on the other side of the room. It’s clear neither of them will look the other in the eye. Roxy sits by Stella and grabs her hand for support.

Josie wants to barf. It’s so transparent some arrangement is being made. What? She has no idea.

Lady Dooley returns from the den, where Mr. Dooley is watching NASCAR with the other men.