“Shit. I wouldn’t want to be touched there either if someone had violated me,” she whispered to herself.
Setting her wine on the coffee table, she lifted the file again. He had started therapy and stayed with it for three years. Skipping the account of all of the graphic incidents, she read the psychologist’s notes that had started three years after her relationship with Sam and that had continued for three years after the first date of therapy. Tears poured from her eyes as she read, an occasional sob escaping as she read the accounts of how Sam had struggled to deal with the problems arising from the molestation. He had been so damn brave, probably much braver than she would have been in his situation. Sam had initiated the therapy himself, wanting to get over some of the symptoms he was having which were similar to PTSD. And he had healed. There were some things that would always take work and patience, but he had tried to heal much of the trauma.
Maybe she should feel guilty for reading his history, but she didn’t. Sam still had a few things he needed to work on, and she couldn’t help him if he didn’t talk to her. No doubt he wanted to leave it in the past, but there were some things that apparently still haunted him, things that would only be overcome by learning to trust.
Maddie knew Sam hadn’t meant for her to see these records. He had obviously asked somebody for his medical records and they had provided them. Everything. Including his visits for therapy.
Wiping her saturated face with the sleeve of her pajamas, she finished her glass of wine and flipped to the beginning of the psychological evaluation, not ready to read about the actual incidents, but compelled to do so. She tried to look at it clinically, as a medical doctor reading a patient history, but it didn’t work. She sobbed as she read, her heart tearing to pieces with every incident, unable to picture anything but her beloved Sam, as an eleven year old boy, being hurt by men that got off by torturing him.
She had barely finished reading when the overwhelming nausea struck, making her run to the bathroom, still keening for Sam’s pain. As a physician, Dr. Madeline Reynolds had a will of steel and a cast iron stomach. But as a woman, Maddie heaved until she was lightheaded and dizzy, totally forgetting she was a physician, reacting only as a woman who loved.
*****
The next evening, Maddie stopped at the clinic after work, and felt completely out of sorts. The fill-in young male physician, Dr. Turner, seemed to have everything under control with the help of a young, blonde nurse who seemed to idolize the handsome doctor. Feeling bereft and bored, she headed for the restaurant where she had agreed to meet Max Hamilton. She had two days off, and nothing planned.
She sighed, unused to not being busy every minute of every day. It felt good to actually have some free time, but the days were lonely when she had nothing to occupy herself. Her only plans were dinner this evening and probably two days of cleaning her house, a job that she only did sporadically when she had the time. It could use a heavy cleaning and she had nothing else planned.
She let out a deep breath as she turned into the restaurant, acknowledging that she missed Sam. But she would let him contact her when he was ready. Strangely, she had no doubt that he would.
The restaurant was a nice one, a place known for steak and seafood. She’d never been here, but she glad she had worn a dress and heels. The weather was miserable, windy and stormy, the temperatures below normal. She put her hands in her pockets as she hustled to the door, shivering as she went through the entrance.
“Dr. Reynolds?” The hostess greeted her immediately.
Surprised, and grateful for the warmth of the interior, she answered, “Yes?”
“Your party is here. I’ll take you to your table.” The tall brunette waited for Maddie to come up behind her and led her through the sophisticated restaurant to a quiet table in the corner. The décor was quietly elegant, finished mostly in black and white with modern but tasteful prints, one wall constructed entirely of glass to overlook the water.
Max Hamilton rose as Maddie arrived at the table, a genuine smile on his lips as he said, “Hi, Maddie. I’m so glad you could make it.”
He was suave and elegant in a tan suit and navy and tan matching tie, every inch of him exuding power and control, but she had never sensed any harmful intentions behind his smile, and she still didn’t.
He seated her before returning to his own chair. “What would you like to drink?” he asked, summoning a waiter, and ordering a Scotch on the rocks for himself.
Shrugging out of her coat, she answered, “Just a glass of wine. Anything that isn’t extremely dry is fine.”
Max placed an order for a glass of white Zinfandel as she accepted a menu from the waiter.
He openly stared at her after the waiter left, his expression unreadable. Maddie looked at him with open fascination. What was it about this man that drew her, made her want to hug him until he didn’t feel so alone anymore? Loneliness and sorrow seemed to hang over him like a dark cloud, even though she’d mostly seen him smiling. She could sense both emotions, subliminal, yet heartbreaking.
Tearing her eyes away from his face, she picked up her menu. “What’s good? I’ve never been here before.”
He grinned. “Everything. It just depends on what you’d like.”
“I’m not exactly a picky eater,” she answered in a self-mocking tone.
Their drinks arrived and they ordered. Max asked her a million questions while they sipped their drinks and during dinner, his interest flattering. By the time they had their dessert, they were talking like old friends.
“So tell me how you know Simon and Sam?” she asked curiously before taking a bite of her incredible-looking chocolate mousse.
“We’ve joined forces in ventures together for years. Sam has a knack for picking all the right ones. I just invest.” He answered, placing his spoon on his plate, his dessert finished.
“That’s not true,” she retorted, naming some prominent ventures that had been his initial idea.
He looked startled. “I guess you really pay attention to the financial news. Probably watching Sam,” he guessed…correctly.
Maddie hated to admit that she’d followed Hudson and its financial achievements for years.
Max put up a hand. “I’m not offended. Don’t worry. It’s obvious you and Sam have something going on. I like Sam. I’m not even thinking of stepping on his toes. I just want to be…friends.” His voice hesitated on the last word.
Maddie examined his expression. He seemed sincere, but she suspected that there was something else he wanted. Her best guess is that what he really wanted was companionship, something to take away the loneliness she could feel radiating from his soul, a sense of loneliness so profound that it was nearly tangible.