had reasoned she must be healed, as well.
If Carol says you’re okay and ready to get on with your life, I should be, too. Now it was Randi’s words that drifted through Jill’s mind, spoken in reply to Jill’s asking her why she wasn’t returning to Martin’s office. After all, Jill, darling, you were the one—I mean, I was only a frightened witness, wasn’t I?
But Jill knew otherwise. She’d seen their stepfather coming out of Randi’s room, too, during that terrible time after their mother died. More than once. He’d been abusing Randi, too.
But Randi apparently had no memory of it. “Blocking” was the psychological term for what she was doing, according to the books Jill had read on the subject. Not that Carol Martin would confirm or deny this to Jill—that professional confidentiality again. But Jill had certainly told Carol what she’d seen, so Carol knew the score. She just couldn’t discuss it with Jill, although she’d warned the older sister not to broach it with Randi on her own.
She’d likely deny it, Jill, the doctor had said. And you might even find it causes an estrangement between you. Worse, hearing you recount what you saw might cause a traumatic reaction in Randi—especially if she’s not emotionally prepared to deal with it. I caution you to leave it alone.
And so Jill had. But on the day Randi decided to leave counseling, she’d been sorely tempted to speak. Only her fear of making matters worse had kept her silent. The best she’d been able to manage had been a faint argument that implied she accepted Randi’s version of what happened…
But being a witness is still traumatic, Randi. Remember? Remember how we both broke down and cried at school? Jill still thanked God they’d somehow found the courage to approach someone with their tale after their stepfather was killed in that car crash. Their guidance counselor had told Aunt Tess and recommended the sessions with Carol Martin. The sessions that had healed Jill, but not her sister.
Jill barely suppressed a sigh. No matter how hard she’d argued, she hadn’t been able to persuade Randi to go back to Martin. It’s time we both put the whole ugly business behind us, Jill, she’d replied, and had never gone to Carol’s office again.
The whole ugly business. Yes, it was ugly, and yes, Jill was able to put it behind her. Carol Martin’s work had gently led her to a point where she could. By focusing on her strength as a survivor and helping her to feel empowered. And accentuating the positive in her experience with men. Especially her healthy relationship with the biological father they’d lost. Carol had been able to help Jill reconstruct the positive self-image that was badly threatened by her stepfather’s abuse. Threatened, but not shattered, thanks largely to Daddy and the caring relationship the girls had had with both their parents while they were alive.
Jill had come out of counseling a whole woman. Her relationship with David was proof of it. David, a decent, stable man she trusted completely—and loved to distraction! She could barely wait for the wedding. Yes, she was ready to get on with her life.
Just as she knew Randi wasn’t. If only she’d go back to see Carol. Something had to give. Her sister was a warm, loving woman. Jill didn’t believe a career, even combined with mothering, would be enough to fulfill Randi’s deepest needs. Not for the long haul. Besides, kids had a way of growing up and—
“So I seem on edge, huh?” Randi’s question pulled her back.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Jill shrugged. “You could, of course, have taken up shredding Kleenex as a hobby, I guess.”
Randi grimaced, recalling the tissues she’d absently torn to shreds in the car. She took a sip of coffee, setting the mug down with a sigh. “Something, uh, unexpected happened in the ER last night—and I don’t mean the emergencies. Except that the man happened to be a patient, that is.”
“The man?”
Randi’s face tightened with strain. “His name is Travis McLean. I know it means nothing to you, Jill, because I never mentioned it to you. But he’s—” she paused for a deep breath “—Matt’s father.”
Jill stopped in the act of raising her mug and stared at her. “Dear Lord!” she murmured at last. “Are you cer—”
“Dead certain.” Randi’s eyes closed, then opened again. “I recognized him, but I also confirmed the name—Travis Paxton McLean. It was on the admittance form.”
Jill nodded slowly, her eyes on Randi’s face. “I can see why that would have been unnerving.” Unnerving, yes, but why did her sister look so haunted? “Did he, uh, recognize you?”
“I don’t think so, but…” Randi hesitated, reluctant to say anything about the guilt the incident had dredged up. Hadn’t she worked all that out years ago? Matt had been worth the unorthodox means she’d used to have him. Dear Lord, if she didn’t have Matt in her life, she’d—
Abruptly she shook her head. “No, as far as I could tell, he didn’t remember me.”
“Well, then—” Jill smiled and patted her hand “—if he didn’t recognize you, there’s nothing to worry about.” She threw her sister a shrewdly assessing glance. “Is there?”
Randi shrugged and took a sip from her mug. “No, I
suppose not, but…” But then, why can’t you stop thinking about the man? Why do you keep seeing his face every time you look at your son? And why do you keep remembering those odd currents that ran right through you when he grinned at you, teased you and bantered with you?
Jill looked at her expectantly, but Randi had no intention of voicing such things. Big sister would only start in again about her needing to date, and there was no way. Especially when the man under discussion was Travis McLean.
“Come on, sis, talk to me,” Jill urged, her voice gentle. “But…?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Randi avoided her sister’s eyes. “I guess I’m just blowing the whole thing out of proportion because I’m tired. I’ve been putting in some long hours at the hospital.”
“True,” Jill said, suspecting there was more to it than that but reluctant to say so. On the other hand, if seeing Matt’s biological father had triggered the old guilt in Randi, this might be the perfect opportunity to suggest she do something about it. Obliquely of course.
“I spoke to Carol Martin on the phone this morning, Randi,” she said casually, eyeing her sister as she reached for the coffeepot and refilled her mug.
“Oh?”
“She’ll be able to be a bridesmaid for sure. Her family reunion’s been postponed till December.”
“Oh, Jill, I’m glad. I know how much you wanted her in the wedding party.”
Jill nodded, sliding a careful glance at her. “She asked about you…how you are.”
“Mmm,” Randi murmured noncommittally. She knew what was coming.
“You know,” Jill said all too cheerfully, “you ought to drop in on her one of these days.”
“Drop in on her…at her office, you mean?”
Jill had the grace to blush, then laughed. “Okay, okay, but it was worth a try.”
Randi laughed, too, then grew serious. “We’ve been over this ground before, Jill, and, no, I don’t feel I need to see Carol professionally. There’s nothing wrong with me that a little R and R wouldn’t cure. So, sister mine, bug off!”
With a sigh, Jill used her index fingers to mimic the antennae of a bug and waggled her head—an old joke between them—and they both laughed.
Then Jill said, “Okay, what about the R and R? Is your vacation still on for next week, or is that summer flu gonna put a cramp in your plans?”
“It had better not. I’ll lose my five-hundred-dollar deposit on the cottage