Legacy Page 5

  “She’s going to be fine, Jonathan,” I said. “She’ll need some therapy, but—”

  “Yes, and I’ll see that she gets everything she needs. She will be my primary focus. That’s where you come in.”

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  “I meant it when I said Lucy and I would take care of Daphne and the child, but right now, I must see to Lucy’s needs. I’m depending on you, Brad. I’m depending on you to take care of my daughter.”

  His blue eyes held emotion I couldn’t identify. Was he abandoning his daughter? I couldn’t believe it, but that seemed to be what his words indicated.

  “Of course I’ll take care of her.”

  “She’s your responsibility now,” he said. “Yours. Just like Lucy is mine.”

  “She’s a grown woman,” I said.

  “I know that. So is Lucy. But my wife needs me. She deserves my undivided attention. I haven’t been giving it to her, and that’s changing as of today.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ve told you Daphne’s history,” he said, “but I haven’t told you everything.”

  Right. We’d been interrupted at the bar last night when Daphne had called about her mother.

  Did I want to hear this?

  Didn’t really matter. I needed to hear it. I’d just promised this man I’d take care of his daughter. I would, anyway, but it would be better to know everything I was dealing with.

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s not pretty.”

  “Can it possibly be any worse than what you’ve already told me?”

  “Nothing is worse than the incident itself, but you need to know how Daphne ended up in the hospital for so long.”

  I nodded. “I need more coffee. And won’t Daphne be down soon?”

  “Are you kidding? It takes her an hour to get ready.”

  “Really? She doesn’t wear much makeup.”

  “No, but her hair takes a long time to dry, even here in Colorado, because it’s so long and thick.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I drew in a breath. “Let me have it, then.”

  “Daphne was partially right when she told you she had severe anxiety and depression. When she was released from the hospital and came home, the school year was about to begin. Daphne had always loved school and done well. She was a straight-A student, so when the first day of her junior year rolled around, Lucy and I were surprised when she froze.”

  “Froze?”

  “Yeah. She completely froze. Wouldn’t get out of bed. Wouldn’t speak. Nothing.”

  “What happened then?”

  “We called the doctor, of course. We originally thought she was missing Sage, but it was more than that. She’d had a psychiatric evaluation in the hospital, and the doctor warned us to watch for symptoms of PTSD.”

  “PTSD? But she didn’t remember what happened.”

  “That’s what I said. Turns out that doesn’t matter. Being in the hospital with her injuries was traumatic enough, and though her mind didn’t recall the actual trauma, her body did. The symptoms showed up with a vengeance on that first day of school. We literally had to pick her up and take her to see a doctor that day. She wouldn’t move. He diagnosed her with severe PTSD and suggested a brief hospitalization so experts could figure out how to treat her. What else could we do? We agreed.”

  I nodded.

  “She was hospitalized for evaluation and remained catatonic for several more days. When she finally came out of it, she still didn’t want to go back to school. Lucy decided she could homeschool Daphne until she was ready to go back, so she quit her job and we brought Daphne home.”

  I nodded again.

  “Neither Lucy nor Daphne took to homeschooling. It was a bad fit all around, so the psychiatrist suggested we admit Daphne to a psychiatric treatment center where she’d get her schooling and also receive treatment.”

  “And…”

  “Daphne didn’t want to go, of course. Who would? But we insisted, and she went under a lot of duress. She got used to it after a few days.”

  “She says she doesn’t remember most of that time. Did they keep her drugged up?”

  “No, they didn’t. She had some medications, of course, to help with the severe anxiety and depression, but mostly she chooses not to remember, Brad.”

  “Wait. What do you mean she chooses not to remember?”

  “Simply what I said. Part of her therapy required her to keep a journal while she was there.”

  “She never mentioned that.”

  “Because the therapist has the journal. He hasn’t let her read it because he doesn’t want to traumatize her. Dr. Payne said it’s important that she ask for it. When she does, he’ll give it to her.”

  I cleared my throat. “Have you read it?”

  “No, I haven’t. Dr. Payne offered, but Lucy and I haven’t been able to bring ourselves to. Besides, it may be highly personal, never meant for our eyes.”

  “So she kept a journal. What else did she do at the hospital?”

  “Therapy, of course, and studies. And she learned to play a musical instrument.”

  My mind whirled back to our time in the guesthouse. She’d sat down at the baby grand piano in the living room… “Was it the piano?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “We have a piano at the guesthouse on the ranch. When I took her there, she said she didn’t play, but she sat right down and played some notes and chords. When I asked her where she learned, she said music class.”

  “I suppose you could call it music class. It was one-on-one piano instruction at the facility.”

  I cleared my throat. I needed to ask the next question, even though I didn’t necessarily want to hear the answer. “Did anything traumatic happen to Daphne at the hospital itself?”

  “No. Not that we know of. It’s a good facility. If I had any doubts about it, I would have pulled her right out of there, Brad.”

  “I know that. I’m just trying to understand why she doesn’t remember so much of it.”

  “Dr. Payne says she’s blocking it out. It’s a time in her life when she didn’t have any control, and she doesn’t want to remember it.”

  “This is the same Dr. Payne who said she was ready to go away to college, right?”

  “Yes. He’s a good man and an excellent therapist. She got through her senior year with excellent grades, and she didn’t have any issues with memory. She had some recurring nightmares, but they eventually subsided.”

  “Jonathan,” I said, “they haven’t subsided.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “Oh, no.”

  “They’re not interfering with her daily life. She’s doing well in classes and enjoys college. I know she’s had the dream twice since she’s been at college, though. Once was while we were at my ranch.”

  “Did she tell you about it?”

  “Briefly. She doesn’t remember it. She only knows she’s afraid, but she wakes up and can’t remember why.”

  “Dr. Payne thinks it’s her subconscious remembering the assault,” Jonathan said quietly.

  “Could I talk to Dr. Payne? If Daphne’s my responsibility now—”

  Jonathan stopped me. “You can’t. Daphne’s over eighteen now. You’d need her permission to talk to her doctors or access her records. Even Lucy and I can’t at this point.”

  “What about after we’re married?”

  “Still no, unless you get Daphne’s written consent. Adult medical files are private.”

  Damn.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  “Is it possible that she’ll remember the incident?”

  “Memory can come back, but Dr. Payne doubts it.”

  “What if she needs to remember? What if the only way she’ll be able to stop the nightmares is to deal with what happened to her?”

  “Lucy and I talked to Dr. Payne at length about that before Daphne turned eighteen. It’s a tough call. Would you want to tell your daughter she’d been beaten and raped by three men? That her b
est friend committed suicide because of it?” He shook his head. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

  “I understand. I’m not sure I could either.”

  “Dr. Payne feels the nightmares will eventually go away. In fact, we thought they had.”

  “Like I said, it’s only been twice in the last month.” Twice that I knew of, anyway.

  He nodded. “I can’t tell Lucy about the nightmares. Not right now.”

  “I get it.”

  “Daphne is still on our health insurance, but once you two get married…”

  “She’ll be covered. My father has an excellent policy for everyone at the ranch. She’ll be covered as my wife.”

  He nodded. “Good. Daphne needs coverage.”

  “Coverage for what?”

  Daphne stood in the doorway.

  Chapter Twelve

  Daphne

  “Hi, sweetheart,” my father said.

  “Hey, baby.” From Brad.

  “Coverage for what?” I repeated.

  Dad cleared his throat. “Brad and I were just discussing his health plan at the ranch. Once you’re married, you’ll be covered.”

  “Oh.” Of course I needed coverage. Who knew when I might go crazy again? That was what my father was thinking. He would never say it, but that was where his mind was. What he didn’t know was that I’d never lose it again. I was determined. I’d fainted twice in the last month at school. When I got anxious, I tended to hyperventilate. I was also determined that wouldn’t happen again. I needed to keep my health. I couldn’t let my little dove be deprived of oxygen.

  I’d be okay.

  I knew it.

  For my little dove.

  I had to be.

  My father stood. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Then we’ll go see your mom.”

  I nodded. I wanted to see my mother, but I hated the idea of going to the hospital. Would she end up in the same facility where I’d spent most of my junior year? And then I’d have to visit her there?

  Ugh. I couldn’t deal with that thought at the moment.

  Brad smiled and patted the spot beside him. “Sit down, baby.”

  I returned his smile, even though I wasn’t feeling it, and sat next to him. The warmth from his body seeped into me, comforting me.

  “Do you want me to go with you to see your mom?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to do what you need me to do. If it’s easier if I’m not there, I understand.”

  I sighed. This wouldn’t be easy no matter what. My father would be there, but my father was no longer the most important man in my life.

  The man sitting next to me was.

  And always would be.

  “I can handle it on my own,” I said.

  He took my hand. “That’s not what I’m asking. I don’t doubt that you can handle it. Do you want me there?”

  “Yes. Yes, I want you there.”

  “Then I’ll be there.” He stood. “I need to take a quick shower as soon as your dad is out. We won’t be long.”

  I nodded as he walked back into the house.

  Alone on the deck.

  I’d spent hours out here last year. God knew I didn’t have any friends to hang out with. That was the great thing about college. I’d chosen a small and very exclusive school in Denver where no one else from my senior class went. I’d gotten in on a full scholarship due to my test scores and GPA, but no doubt also in large part because of the essay I’d written about my rise from mental illness.

  I liked to write.

  Maybe Brad was right. I should pursue a career in writing. But what would I write? A personal statement about the horrors of my mental illness might impress college admissions staff, but no one would pay money to read it.

  And would I even pursue a career? I’d be lucky to finish my second semester. What if the baby came early? Once I had the baby, would I go back to school in Grand Junction? Or would I do what most students in my situation did—never finish?

  I’d promised myself I’d live life to the fullest now. I’d find joy in every moment. That goal had become easier once senior year was over. Senior year without close friends and with your classmates whispering behind your back didn’t lend itself well to joy. So I’d thrown myself into my studies. Prepared for my SAT and ACT and gotten near perfect scores. No clubs, no sports, no prom for me. Just the books, and it had paid off with the scholarship.

  The scholarship to the college Brad Steel attended.

  Fate.

  Always fate.

  And now…our baby. My little dove. It had to be fate. We’d tried to prevent his conception, but he was determined to come anyway.

  Fate.

  Fate always found a way.

  Fate had led me to Brad Steel.

  In a way, that horrid year of my life had led me where I was today. Before, I always assumed I’d attend CU with Sage and everyone else. I never would have tried to get into Stilton. My parents certainly couldn’t have afforded it without the scholarship for tuition.

  Everything happens for a reason.

  Dr. Payne used that phrase a lot.

  “Why do some things have to be so painful?” I’d asked once.

  “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

  I liked Dr. Payne, but he was the master of the cliché.

  Of course, clichés were clichés for a reason. They made a lot of sense.

  For the first time, I was thankful for my junior year.

  It had led me to Brad.

  I laughed out loud. My life sure was heading in a different direction from where I’d assumed it would head. Married at eighteen? Who did that anymore? Mother at nineteen?

  This was my life now.

  No time to plan any kind of wedding, and my parents couldn’t afford it. Brad and I would probably be married at city hall. I could live with that. Not like I had a choice.

  Still, what girl doesn’t dream of being a princess in white for a day?

  I’d had those dreams once, when I was younger. Before I had other more important things to think about—like keeping my memory intact.

  Now silly girlhood dreams seemed like exactly that—silly girlhood dreams.

  I’d been forced to grow up quickly, and now I was doubling down. Soon I’d be responsible for another person—my little dove who I already adored.

  I’d rise to the challenge.

  Continue to find the joy in everything.

  Because my little dove needed me.

  “Daphne?” Dad opened the screen door leading to the deck. “You ready, sweetheart?”

  I nodded.

  Whether I was ready didn’t matter. I’d go see my mother. I’d set foot in the hospital. I’d be strong.

  I had no other choice.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brad

  Lucy was asleep the whole time we were at the hospital. Daphne sat with her for a half hour, holding her hand. I didn’t pressure her.

  Finally she said to me, “We need to get back to campus.”

  I nodded. We said goodbye to Jonathan, and I gave him my address and phone number in case he wanted to reach me. Then we drove back to college. Daphne was quiet, but she seemed okay.

  “Do you want to stay with me tonight?” I asked.

  “No, I need to talk to Patty. Tell her what’s going on. I guess tomorrow after classes I’ll go talk to the registrar and the campus housing person. Patty will probably be thrilled to have a single room for the rest of the year.”

  “Probably only the rest of the semester,” I said. “They’ll most likely fill the room with a transfer student in January.”

  She nodded. “Well, she can have her fun for a few months, anyway. The girl gets around.”

  “She does?”

  “You know she slept with Sean the first night we were on campus. She also slept with her first nighter—who’s a pig, by the way—and still sees him. Whatever happened between her and Sean?”

  “Murph likes to
play the field,” I said. “I love him like a brother, but I don’t agree with everything he does.”

  “Patty seems okay with it. I think she likes playing the field too. She’s not actually dating Rex, the other guy. Just screwing him when they both feel like it.”

  “A lot of people do that in college,” I said. “It was never my thing. Not long term, anyway.”

  “I suppose you were always with…”

  “She’s gone now,” I said. “Wendy and I are over. She won’t be bothering either of us for a long time.”

  “How can I be sure?”

  “Trust me.”

  Wendy had been committed for psychiatric evaluation and treatment after she pulled a gun on Murphy a few weeks ago. I owed my dad for this one. When the Madigans had refused to take charge of their daughter, my father stepped in, found a psychiatrist willing to sign the documents, and then paid the Madigans to sign affidavits testifying to what Wendy had done. Murph also signed an affidavit. No one had to lie. They just told the truth, and the psychiatrist took care of the rest. He guaranteed that Wendy would be hospitalized for at least a year.

  In a year, Daphne and I could finish the school year. I would graduate, we’d get married, have our baby, and settle on the ranch.

  The timing worked perfectly.

  And Wendy would be gone for more than a year. I’d manage it somehow, even if I had to get my father involved again.

  My father…

  How would he feel when he found out I was getting married and having a baby? He’d met Daphne and seemed to like her okay, though my dad was difficult to read. He was an asshole, had treated my mother like crap for years. At least he didn’t hit her anymore.

  My mom would love Daphne. They had a lot in common. Daphne had loved Mom’s greenhouse. I felt like she and Mom were similar souls. They’d be close, and my mom would adore our baby.

  Yeah, we were young. It wasn’t what either of us had planned or what our parents had planned.

  But we’d do it.

  We’d bring our child into this world, and we’d thrive.

  I’d see to it.

  “Brad, are you listening to me?”

  I jerked out of my thoughts. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”