Wicked Burn (12 page)

Rose sighed. “If only it were that simple. Stephen’s condition has been an anomaly in regard to traditional psychiatric understanding. His first symptoms occurred after a terrific stressor, of course, but his age of onset was too late to be a classic schizophrenia. He hasn’t responded to medications for a psychotic type of depression, either. He goes through periods of remission but, well . . . you know how he is then,” Rose said sadly.

Listless, lifeless . . . vacant
, Niall thought automatically. She couldn’t say what had pained her most over the years—Stephen’s manic, agitated, often violent psychotic episodes, or the long periods where he sat and stared out the window without uttering a word, refusing to eat or attend to his most basic grooming and hygiene needs, completely immune to her presence. When he ranted at her it was awful, but at least in doing so he acknowledged her existence.

Against her will the image arose behind Niall’s eyelids of the way her parents looked this morning in the hallway as she stood at the door beside a potently virile, nearly nude Vic. They had remained icily silent about the whole incident, but even a second of considering what they must be thinking of her made Niall cringe internally. Some part of her struggle and mortification must have shown on her face, because Rose put her arm around Niall’s shoulders in a gesture of compassion.

“Niall, thousands of family members of severely mentally ill people have to make similar decisions, and very few of them have suffered the awful extenuating circumstances you have. Didn’t the counselor you saw tell you that there’s no right or wrong to your decision? It’s you who has to be at peace with it. Not your parents. Not your friends. Not me. Not even Stephen.
You
, Niall.”

“Stephen suffered as well.”

Rose nodded briskly in agreement. “He did. I can only imagine what he must have suffered . . . what he still suffers.” She studied Niall with kind, dark eyes. “He’s responded in the only way he knows how. I can’t say for sure that I wouldn’t have drunk myself into a psychotic oblivion and decided to stay there if forced to face the same circumstances the two of you have. But here’s the thing, Niall . . .” Rose added more gently, “You
can
say that. You
do
know. You chose to continue with your life even when it meant you had to carry on alone.”

Niall just shook her head, made speechless by the emotion that gripped painfully at her throat. Why did it always hurt so much when someone said something like that to her? Was it some sort of deficit on her part that she hadn’t crumbled under the stress and grief as Stephen had? Did that mean that she’d cared less for their son than Stephen had,
loved
Michael less?

No.
No
, now she wasn’t being fair to herself, just as she hadn’t been fair to herself by stretching out this tragedy for so much longer than need be. Niall wondered if there would be a day in the rest of her life that the thought of her precious little boy’s senseless murder wouldn’t cause such an acute stab of pain that she was left literally breathless.

Tears streamed silently down her face. Rose had only meant to be reassuring and kind by her words. Niall’s lingering doubts about her decisions were the party at fault here.

The tears came from another source, as well. Niall kept so much locked fast in her heart. She had for so long now. Maybe it was foolishness, maybe it was fear . . . maybe it was nothing more than stubborn pride that made her suffer in silence.

Whatever the reason that she kept so much locked up within her, Niall was also starved to talk to someone . . . someone who knew at least
something
about the circumstances of why her husband—once a funny, intelligent man—currently lay down the hospital hallway, restrained, sedated, almost all evidence of his humanity and vibrancy squeezed out of him by the ruthless fist of grief. Niall longed to connect with someone who had more than just a verbal description of what her husband had become . . . of what Niall had lost.

The clinical psychologist that Evergreen Park had referred Niall to had been kind and attentive, but he’d never really broken through to her. Niall had felt like he was a well-meaning scientist studying a dolphin through a pane of glass. He’d
wanted
to reach her. But the unavoidable difference in their histories had seemed to make contact between Niall and the psychologist as difficult as communication between members of two separate species.

“Oh . . . dear,”
Rose said brokenly when she noted Niall’s expression. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, honey.” She reached into her pink bag and brought out a wad of tissues.

Niall blinked in bleary-eyed surprise when Rose stuffed half the tissues in her hand and used the rest to mop the tears that had fallen on her own ample cheeks.

“Sorry,” Rose offered with a sheepish grin. “Not very professional of me.”

Niall gave a choked laugh that freed her trapped voice. “Maybe not. But human. And I mean that as a very big compliment. It can’t be easy for you to remain so emotionally available.” Niall reached out and covered Rose’s hand with her own. She held up the tissues meaningfully. “Thank you, Rose.”

She was glad to see by Rose’s wide, warm smile that the woman knew she was grateful for much, much more than the tissues.

When Niall had composed herself sufficiently both women stood and dumped their respective wads of tissues in the garbage can.

“Niall, there’s something important I wanted you to know, especially now. I tried to call you last week about it,” Rose said as they picked up their coats.

“I’m sorry. I was in Tokyo all week on a business trip. I just got your message at work late yesterday afternoon.”

Rose nodded in understanding. “I figured it was something like that. You’re usually so prompt about returning my calls.”

“What is it?” Niall asked anxiously when Rose didn’t speak for a second, but just bent to retrieve her purse.

Rose patted her arm reassuringly. “I just wanted to inform you of something. In light of the circumstances, I wish I had gotten hold of you sooner but . . . well, it couldn’t be helped. I was calling you to tell you that I’d received official notice from the state of your impending divorce,” Rose continued. “Now, I have a longstanding principle as a legal guardian that I follow in these situations. If I judge—given psychiatrists’ and other mental health professionals’ feedback—that the person who is under my guardianship is mentally stable enough to hear information like this, I provide it to them in person. People like Stephen aren’t children. They’re adults with clear legal rights. As part of my duty I have to decide if the harm to my client or to others outweighs his right to at least hear the truth about critical legal decisions that impact them. I’ve told you from the very beginning—haven’t I, Niall?—that I’m Stephen’s advocate.”

“Yes, of course,” Niall agreed quickly, not in the least offended by the slightly stern edge that came into Rose’s voice. She wasn’t sure she could have given guardianship to anyone who didn’t get the militant gleam in her eye that Rose did when she discussed the rights of mentally ill individuals. “I would have told Stephen myself if I hadn’t thought it was possible he would destabilize. You know how he can get around me sometimes.”

She shut her eyes reflexively, trying to banish the automatic thought. Another one, equally unwelcome, abruptly rushed to take its place.

“Wait . . . are you saying this because you told him about the divorce?” Niall asked in shrill panic. “Is that why he attacked that man at the hospital?”

“No,” Rose said firmly. Her hand rose to Niall’s elbow reassuringly. “I’m bringing this up because I thought you might have this kind of reaction if you thought about it in the future and I wasn’t here to tell you otherwise.” Rose made sure she had Niall’s full attention before she continued. “I
haven’t
told Stephen about you filing for divorce. All of my reports from Dr. Fardesh and the staff at Evergreen Park argued against the wisdom of that.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“Because it was my duty to tell you my philosophy on the matter—that if Stephen was deemed sufficiently stable, I would at least inform him of the fact that he was about to undergo a legal divorce from his wife and ask him if he would like to state his opinion on the manner. Not that it would change the outcome of things. But he is a human being, after all. You would rather I make attempts at acknowledging Stephen’s human rights instead of just signing the divorce papers at work between responding to an e-mail and taking a bathroom break, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course!” Niall responded desperately. “Just tell me again that this recent relapse wasn’t related to you telling him about the divorce.”

“
No,
” Rose repeated passionately. She glanced over when a male nurse at the nursing station cleared his throat loudly, subtly informing them that they needed to calm down. “The reports from Dr. Fardesh have been far from encouraging that kind of communication. Then Stephen had this recent relapse—”

“. . . which had nothing to do with—”

“No!
Dios
, believe me, girl!” Rose insisted, earning another frown from the male nurse for her loud volume. She toned it down a notch as she continued. “I had already decided that it wouldn’t be in Stephen’s best interests to have any more possible stressors placed upon him. Then he had this latest relapse . . .” Rose paused and shook her head dispiritedly.

“I should probably also tell you that after this particular incident of violence I’ve agreed, at Dr. Fardesh’s urging, to give consent for Stephen to be given a new medication.”

“Another one?” Niall asked dully.

“We have to keep trying. I’ve held off on consenting to this medication because it has a dangerous side effect. A small percentage of patients experience a drastic drop in their white blood cell count when taking it.” She saw Niall’s worried expression. “Evergreen Park will monitor Stephen’s blood closely for that
very
rare side effect, Niall. It’s not as if he’s out in the community and might miss regular blood draws. And who knows? This is an older drug, but it has had amazing results for people with severe psychosis.

“Stephen’s most recent relapse aside,” Rose said, “in my capacity as his legal guardian I felt it was important to tell you that if Stephen should stabilize while your divorce is still ongoing—which we both know is highly unlikely, given that it will probably finalize in the next few months—that I
might
consider telling him what is occurring that legally concerns him.
Might
, Niall. And even if that should happen the chance of it actually affecting your divorce proceedings is a million to one.”

“And this is definitely what you called to tell me last week, right?”

“
Yes,
” Rose repeated with an amused laugh of frustration. She knew perfectly well from her experience with clients’ families that they needed to be frequently reassured that they were not somehow directly responsible for their family member’s mental illness or the sole cause of a relapse.

“I told you before that given the circumstances, it was a shame I hadn’t spoken with you first. But Stephen’s latest relapse had nothing to do with your filing for divorce, Niall. Absolutely nothing. Understood?”

She waited until Niall nodded.

“Good,” Rose said. She put her hand on Niall’s elbow. “Now let’s get out of this place. I shouldn’t say it, considering what I do for a living, but I really can’t stand hospitals.”

Niall gave an exhausted bark of laughter. “God, I couldn’t agree more.”

SEVEN

The brisk wind coming off Lake Michigan and whipping down the tunnels of the high-rises couldn’t prevent Vic from walking back to Riverview Towers from the theater that Saturday afternoon. The run-through on Thursday night only served to highlight myriad problems and concerns that needed to be taken care of posthaste before opening night next Friday. Vic couldn’t justify returning to the farm for the long weekend, as he usually did.

That was it. Lack of fresh air and rigorous exercise on the back of one of his horses were responsible for his extra edgy mood for the past two days. Sure, Vic would have been a bear no matter the circumstances, given the fact that he had an opening in six days and that not only was it his own play but his first production as director of the Hesse Theater.

Although, his tension level
might
have something to do with the fact that Niall Chandler had specifically told him not to call her. Or that she’d looked so pale and fragile as she’d said it that it had made him irrationally want to wrap her in his arms and forbid her to go anywhere near her own parents.

None of your business or your concern
, he told himself as he walked down the street. Still, his mind kept churning as if it had been set on automatic by somebody other than him.

Maybe his touchy mood and near inability to sleep at night related to the fact that he was hornier than hell for a woman who slept less than fifty feet away from him, the only thing separating them being a few thin walls and—more crucially—Niall’s choice.

He knew she was over there. He’d come home late on Thursday following the dress rehearsal and meetings with his staff. But as he’d stood outside in the hallway debating whether or not he should knock on her door, the light that he could barely see at the bottom of her doorway suddenly blinked out.

He’d grimly turned away, recognizing a dismissal when he saw it.

Vic nodded in greeting to the doorman at Riverview Towers and put out his hand to push through the revolving doors. He stopped abruptly when he caught a glimpse in the distance of a solitary figure and pale gold hair blowing in the wind.

He hesitated for a few seconds. Something about her bent head and the way her shoulders hunched forward slightly as she braced against the chilly November wind decided him.