Intimate Relations: Awakened Part 5

Before he'd finished, Marc lightly drummed his three middle fingers against the arm of the sofa.

Alden smiled. "Perfect, Marc. There will be no confusion on my part at all. Now I'm going to ask you a few questions, Marc. Indicate yes or no with the appropriate finger. First of all, I want to remind you that you are safe here. Do you understand that?"

Marc's forefinger tapped the sofa.

"Excellent. Marc, we're going to talk about dreams. I want you to feel safe when I ask you questions. Please indicate no if you feel at all uncomfortable, or if any of my questions are inappropriate. Can you do that?"

Forefinger. A single tap.

"Marc, sometimes you have dreams that make you uncomfortable. Do you remember them?"

Forefinger again.

"You don't like to talk about the dreams, though, do you?"

Marc shook his head and tapped his middle finger.

"Marc, I need to know if it is safe and appropriate for you to recall this information."

Forefinger. A light tap.

"Is it safe and appropriate for you to feel the emotions a.s.sociated with these memories?"

Forefinger. Mandy noticed his movement was a bit hesitant this time, not much more than a twitch. She glanced at Alden, but he merely nodded.

"Very good, Marc. I'm going to touch your shoulder so you'll know that you're not alone, that it's safe here to talk about your dreams." He leaned close and did just that. "Mandy is with you, too. She's still holding your hand. We're both here to help you. I want you to think about your most recent dream. The one you described to Mandy. You can use your voice now. I want you to think about how you feel when you have this dream."

Marc's foot began tapping against the carpet. Alden touched his shoulder again. The tapping stopped. "Let's do this a bit differently. It's a scary place inside the dream, isn't it."

"Yes."

"I think it might be better if you were to step back. Maybe go someplace safe where you can watch. Does that sound like a good idea?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you watch your dream in a movie theater? The seats are comfortable and Mandy can sit beside you and hold your hand. You can watch the movie together. Does that work?"

"It's still scary."

"It's just a scary movie, Marc. It can't hurt you. Do you remember how you felt when you watched it?"

He took a couple of short, sharp breaths. "Afraid. I was afraid."

"You don't have to be afraid now, Marc. The theater is a safe place. Mandy's with you and nothing can hurt you here. Do you feel safe now?"

"Yes."

"Look at the screen, Marc. What do you see on the movie screen?"

"A little boy. I see a little boy." He was whispering now, his voice so low that Mandy could barely hear him.

"Where is he? You can speak to me. No one but Mandy and I can hear you. It's okay." He touched Marc's shoulder again. "We will both keep you safe."

Marc sighed softly. "He's behind the bed. He's afraid, and he's hiding."

Mandy realized she was staring at Marc. His voice had changed, not the adult depth of it, but the cadence, his manner of speaking. As if he were that little boy. The therapist didn't miss a beat, and she wondered if this was common.

"Do you know what room he's in? What house?"

"He's in my house. In Mommy and Daddy's room. It's too far away from mine."

"Do you feel alone at night, in your own room?"

"Sometimes. I'm a big boy. I'm not supposed to be afraid at night. That's what Daddy says. But the little boy heard shouting and it scared him. He came to find his Mommy."

"How old is he, Marc?"

"He's four. His mommy calls him her little man, but he's going to be big someday."

"Yes, he is. He will grow to be a big, strong, man. What do you see on the movie screen now?"

"I see Mommy and Daddy in the mirror."

Marc sighed again, and Mandy's heart went out to that little boy afraid at night, feeling so alone. But then he said, "Mommy and Daddy are fighting."

Mommy and Daddy? Was that what he saw? His parents fighting? Mandy clung to Marc's hand, starkly aware of the tension in his grasp, the sheen of perspiration on his forehead.

Her inability to do anything but hang on to his hand.

Alden's voice slipped into the quiet. "Are you still in a safe place?"

"I'm still in the theater, and I'm being quiet like a tiny mouse. That's what Mommy says to do when Daddy's angry."

"You have a very smart Mommy."

"She left me and never came back. She left me with Daddy. He's not a nice man."

"What is Daddy doing?"

"He has his hands around her neck. He's hurting her, but she's not crying anymore. She isn't moving. The little boy is still hiding. He doesn't want to go where he can really see them. He's afraid."

"Can't he see them on the movie screen anymore?"

A frown wrinkled his forehead. "No. But he can hear Daddy breathing real hard. He's really angry. I don't want to watch this movie anymore. I want to leave."

"That's a good idea, Marc. I want you to leave the theater and go someplace even safer. You're a grownup now, Marc, but little Marc is still afraid. Do you want to comfort him? You can make him feel better."

Marc nodded and tapped his finger at the same time.

Alden reached behind him and grabbed a soft pillow. He placed it against Marc's chest. "Maybe he needs a hug, Marc. He needs to know that he didn't do anything wrong, that he was a very good, very brave boy. What his father did is something only a very sick person would do."

Marc wrapped his arms around the pillow and held it against his chest, but he didn't let go of Mandy. Carefully, she switched hands, grasping his left with hers. Then she moved closer so he could hold the pillow and still hold on to her hand, but she wrapped her other arm around his back, holding him.

His body trembled. She pressed closer, with her cheek against his shoulder.

Alden nodded and smiled. "This is a good place, Marc. You're safe here. Mandy is with you, and I'm here. What you saw was frightening, but you were very brave. You didn't do anything wrong, but what your father did was wrong. When you awaken, I want you to remember everything you've recalled today. It's all over. Nothing will hurt you. Now Marc, I'm going to count slowly from one to five. As I do, you'll become more awake and aware with each number. When I count five, I'll touch your shoulder and you will be completely awake and aware. Your eyes will open, and you'll feel very good."

Alden counted, touched his shoulder, and Marc's eyes flew open. He turned and focused on Mandy. She reached for him and he grabbed for her at the same time, holding on to her, his entire body shivering as she held him close. Alden left the room for a moment. Then he was back with two paper cups of cold water. Marc took the one he offered.

Mandy took the other and held it while Marc emptied his. "Thank you," he said, when she handed hers to him. He drank it down as well. Then he stared at the paper cup in his hand as if he had no idea what to do with it.

Mandy took the empty cups and set them on the table beside the sofa. "Do you remember what you saw?"

He nodded, but it took him a moment before he spoke. "I do. It wasn't me in the mirror at all. It was my father. He would have been twenty-eight when she disappeared." He raised his head and stared at Alden. "When he killed her. That's what I saw, isn't it? He strangled her in their bedroom. I must have been asleep in my own room and heard them fighting. They had one of those closet doors that was all mirrors, and I saw him in the mirror, strangling her."

"You didn't say, but I a.s.sume you originally thought you were the man in the mirror?" Alden took his gla.s.ses off, wiped the lenses with a tissue and then put them back on. "You realize now that you were entirely innocent, a child, who was an unfortunate witness to a terrible act."

Marc frowned, gazed a moment into the distance. "I guess I do. What I saw today looked enough like me that I thought I saw myself doing this horrible thing." He ran his hands almost frantically through his hair. Mandy wondered if he might be in shock. She certainly felt a little out of it after his revelation.

Alden nodded. "But you didn't recognize your mother in the dream, not until today?"

Marc shook his head. "I've seen very few pictures of her, but when I saw her today, I remembered her immediately. It's like my father scoured her from my life. He taught me to hate her. When I think of the way he lied to me..." He raised his head and stared at Mandy. "He said she fought him for custody, and he only got to keep me because he offered her a huge payoff. She took the money and left. He said all she wanted was his money and she didn't want to see me again. I've believed that my whole life, when all along the b.a.s.t.a.r.d killed her. I can't believe I watched him kill her and couldn't remember."

"That's most likely how you survived this terrible incident with your mind intact." Alden sighed when he added, "You were protecting the child. Now, though, you'll need to deal with this. It's a horrible thing, but something that cries out for closure. How do you remember your mother now?"

Marc's eyes filled with tears. The panic-stricken look he gave Mandy spoke volumes, but he took a deep breath, closed his eyes a moment, and then exhaled. "I loved her. More than anything, and I know she loved me. I think she protected me from him, telling me how to hide, how to be like a tiny mouse. She was afraid of him." A hard glance at Mandy.

She squeezed his hand when he added, "As she had every right to be."

"Is your father still alive?"

Marc's entire expression changed. Mandy didn't think she'd ever seen him like this, so angry he was shaking. "Oh, yeah," he said. "He called me a couple of weeks ago, wanting more money, but I didn't give him any. I made the mistake of loaning him money once before, a fairly large sum that he neglected to repay. He seems to think I'm his personal bank, because he called again yesterday. I didn't take his call and erased his voicemail without listening."

He focused on Mandy. Intense-she'd seen him working on a problem he couldn't solve, and he'd had this same look, as if he'd find the answers he needed or die trying.

"What now?" Mandy rubbed her hand over his shoulders, down his back. "How do we prove that he killed your mother? And what do we do with the information?"

"We'll find a way to prove it, and I know just the man to put in charge of the search for evidence." The look on his face would have scared her silly if she'd thought his anger was aimed her way, but she knew exactly who he was talking about without Marc saying another word.

The man who'd come to San Francisco with the goal of keeping her sister's fiance, Ben Lowell, alive long enough to testify-a job he'd performed admirably-while proving he could be as good a friend as he was an FBI agent. "Ted? Ted Robinson? But he's FBI. He's not going to want to..."

"I think he is. I haven't said anything, but Ted called me a couple of weeks ago, said he's had it with Washington, wants something new. He really loved it out here, said he felt a connection with us that had him thinking of making a major change, and wondered if I knew of anyone hiring. I told him Ben's got the security spot but that I was sure I could find more than enough work with Reed Industries to keep him busy. I've been waiting to hear back from him, but I'll call him once we get home."

He turned to Alden and held out his hand. "I can't thank you enough. I have a feeling I'm going to need to see you again. I'm wondering if there's anything else I can remember from that night, anything that will help me find the details of what he did with my mother, maybe where she's buried. I really want to nail the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's a.s.s to the wall."

Alden nodded. "Sometimes after a session, the memories that you've recalled can jog a lot of others loose. Don't be surprised if you have new dreams, every bit as vivid though not as frightening because you'll experience them with the recovered knowledge you have now and the distance of your maturity. They'll make sense to your adult mind as they might not have to the child. And another thought-and this is my psychologist side speaking-I'm wondering if the fact you saw your own face in the mirror could be a reaction to guilt. You were just a child, but you clearly loved your mother very much. She had protected you from your father as best she could, and yet you couldn't save her. Possibly that four-year-old boy felt guilty enough to blame himself for her death."

Marc shoved his hands in his pockets and gazed at the wall covered with diplomas. Mandy wondered what was going through his mind, how he was going to deal with everything they'd discovered.

"I do feel guilty," he said. "Guilty for hating her all these years, for believing the lies he told me. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d." He glanced at the clock. "Is that the correct time?" When Alden nodded, Marc turned and gave Mandy a lopsided grin. "I can't believe we've been here for over two hours. It feels like maybe half an hour since we walked in the door."

"Hypnosis can be like that, stepping out of what is in everyday perception, the real world, and into a world that's filled with more truth than we thought possible." Alden glanced away, and then turned his attention back to Marc. "I'm curious. I thought you would have more trouble finding the trance state, but you slipped into it quite naturally. What number did you focus on?"

Marc shrugged. "The only one that matters. Zero."

"Interesting. And why is that?"

"It represents infinite possibilities. There's no beginning, no end, merely an infinite loop." He laughed. "When I can't sleep at night, I merely imagine a large zero. Works every time."

"I'll have to remember that. Good luck to you, Marcus Reed." He shook Marc's hand. "I will mail a recording of our session to you-it will be on a locked DVD for privacy. I'll email the pa.s.sword later this afternoon and you should have the recording by the end of the week. And please keep in touch. I'm going to want to know what comes of this."

When they pulled up in front of the house a few minutes later, Marc was still thinking of Alden Chung's words, of finding a world inside his own mind with even more truth than the reality he lived every day. He'd gone inside that place for such a brief period, and in that short time, his entire life had changed.

He'd learned more about himself and his dreams today than he'd believed possible, but he'd learned something even more important. He never would have done this without Mandy. Mandy, who was his friend and his lover and more. With his feelings all over the map and his world quite literally turned upside down, the one thing he was most certain of was the fact that he loved her.

She was everything he wanted in a life partner-a lover, a steadfast friend, the light to take him through whatever darkness cursed him. He was certain she cared for him, but after today's revelations he wasn't ready to pressure her for more than she was willing to give.

Would Mandy stick around to see this thing through with him? That was going to be asking a lot, because he fully intended to make his father pay. He'd never thought of himself as a vengeful person. Today, everything had changed.

He couldn't explain it, the almost visceral need to get back at the man who had lied to him, who had used him, who had killed the mother who loved him. That was what hurt the most, the fact Steven Reed had taught Marc to hate his mother, a woman who had only ever done her best to protect her son.

For that alone, the man had to pay.

Marc only hoped Mandy understood. He couldn't lose her. Couldn't give her up. He needed her so much it was almost frightening when he thought of the power she held over him. He glanced her way, caught her watching him, and returned the quick smile she shared. Then he backed the Tesla into the driveway and parked close to the charger. Mandy was out before he could get her door, so he went ahead and plugged the car in and then followed her up the steps. Rico greeted them as if they'd been gone for days, and then settled down as soon as the front door was closed with both Mandy and Marc inside.

It was almost five, but Marc went into his bedroom and took his clothes off, rummaged around for a pair of old sweats and put those on, along with a truly ratty looking T-shirt. As he headed back to the kitchen, he ran into Mandy heading for her room.

"You beat me to it. I want to get into something comfortable, and then I'm going to sit down with a gla.s.s of wine and see if I can decompress." She took both his hands and wrapped them behind her. He took the hint and held her close.

"There's so much I want to say, and I don't know where to start."

He laughed softly. "I know. I feel like a balloon with all the air let out. It's going to hit me really hard before too long, when everything sinks in. My first reaction was absolute rage, but I can't live like that. I can, however, do everything in my power to find out exactly what happened. More than anything, I need to know what he did with her. I have the strongest feeling that I might actually know where her body is buried, but nothing concrete."

He leaned close and kissed her. The taste of her mouth, the warmth of her body next to his. d.a.m.n. He wanted her now, but he forced himself to end the kiss, to wait. "I'm going to sit and have a beer while you have your gla.s.s of wine, then let's just fix breakfast for dinner. I know we've got everything here to make omelets. You okay with that?"

"Perfect." She stood on her toes and kissed him one more time.

He watched her walk toward her room. Tried to imagine dealing with this alone, and knew he couldn't. He hadn't. No, he'd been willing to live half a life rather than find out what the h.e.l.l was going on in his dreams. One night with Mandy, and already he was finding answers to questions he'd never even considered, much less imagined.

The smell of bacon led Mandy back to the kitchen in record time. Marc was flipping a potato pancake of shredded russets, the bacon was already in the toaster oven keeping warm, and he had all the ingredients on the counter for omelets.

"Ya know, there's nothing s.e.xier than a man in front of a stove with a spatula in his hand."

Marc turned and c.o.c.ked one eyebrow. "Last time you said there was nothing s.e.xier than a man doing dishes. Make up your mind, woman. Which is it?"