Intimate Betrayal by Donna Hill Page A

“I’ve been to every doctor, neurosurgeon, psychologist and psychiatrist worth their shingle. The general consensus is that there’s nothing physically wrong with me. The headaches and the nightmares are all a manifestation of my intentional attempt to suppress my memory.”
    â€œThat’s what the doctors told you?” he sputtered in disbelief.
    Reese nodded. “That’s the only explanation any of them could offer. The trauma of the accident was so severe that I’ve completely erased it and my entire life leading up to it.”
    Maxwell leaned slightly forward, bracing his arms on his thighs. “You have no memory of the first fifteen years of your life?” he asked in astonished wonder.
    â€œNone,” she said in a tone of resignation.
    Maxwell heaved a sigh. “This is just incredible.” He got up to kneel in front of where she sat. “How do you deal with it?” he asked with such absolute sincerity it tore at her heart.
    â€œDay by day,” she answered softly. “Just day by day.”
    He reached out, letting the tip of his index finger trail along the contours of her face. Then gently he asked, “Do you want to remember, Reese—really want to remember?”
    Briefly she shut her eyes. “At times, especially when the pain and the nightmares are so bad that I just wish I would die. Then, when things are good, I don’t want to know. If what happened was that horrible, maybe it’s best I never remember.”
    â€œThat can’t be better, Reese. And the only way to rid yourself of the pain and the nightmares is to rid yourself of the fear of remembering.”
    â€œYes, doc,” she teased, chucking him under the chin in an attempt to lighten the somber mood. She popped up from her seat and slowly began to pace. Then she suddenly turned toward him. “What’s most disturbing, at the moment, is that the headaches and the nightmares started again…when I met you.”
    Maxwell’s dark eyes widened. “Let me get this straight. You started having these reoccurrences after we met?”
    â€œYes. At first I thought it was the stress of the trip. But the headaches started getting worse, like I told you. I had to begin taking the prescription medicine again. And then the nightmares.” She shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around her waist as a tremor shimmied through her. “I hadn’t suffered from those in close to three years.”
    An unnatural sense of foreboding settled in the pit ofMaxwell’s belly. There was a reason for everything, he rationalized. But what could the reason be for him to be the catalyst that triggered her ordeal?
    â€œHow do you feel right now, right at this moment?”
    â€œRight now I feel fine. The pain is gone and I can’t remember my dreams.”
    â€œGood. Come on. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.
    â€œWhere?” she cried doubling her step to keep up with him.
    â€œJust get your purse, or whatever, and let’s go. What you need is a little R&R. And I have just the place.”
    â€œBut what about work?” she giggled, caught up in the moment.
    â€œWhat about it?” he grinned over his shoulder.
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    Maxwell pressed the button for the sunroof of the car, turned up the music, and sped off.
    â€œNow are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
    He turned to her and smiled. “Just relax,” he said, patting her folded hands. “I guarantee you’re going to love it.”
    Reese pouted but held her tongue. When was the last time she’d done anything spontaneously? Too long, she concluded. The only way she’d been able to manage her life, such as it was, was to organize and compartmentalize every aspect of it. That ritual seemed to give some validity to her existence, as if documenting her every move would eradicate the possibility that she’d ever forget anything