Dione said, gathering her composure enough to answer Serena evenly. Suddenly she felt very tired, too, and she was unable to stifle a yawn. âIâm sorry,â she said. âItâs been a long day.â
Serena gave her an odd, considering look. âThen Richard and I will be leaving; I donât want to keep you up. Iâll see Blake tomorrow.â
âIâll be increasing his exercises tomorrow,â Dioneinformed her, taking the opportunity to let Serena know that her presence would hinder rather than help. âIt would be better if you waited until late afternoon, say after four.â
âBut thatâs too much!â Serena gasped. âHe isnât strong enough!â
âAt this point, Iâm doing most of the work,â Dione reassured her dryly. âBut Iâll be careful not to let him do too much.â
If Serena heard the sarcasm that Dione couldnât quite suppress, she didnât let on. Instead she nodded. âI see,â she said coldly. âVery well. Iâll see Blake tomorrow afternoon.â
Well, will wonders never cease, Dione thought wryly to herself as she made her way upstairs. All sheâd had to do was mention that Blake would be busy, and though Serena hadnât been happy with the situation, sheâd agreed to it.
After sheâd gotten ready for bed, she tapped lightly on Blakeâs door; when she didnât hear an answer she opened the door just enough to peek inside. He was sound asleep, lying on his back, his head rolled against his shoulder. With only the light from the hallway on him, he looked younger, the lines of suffering not visible now.
Quietly she closed the door and returned to her room. She was tired, so tired that her limbs ached, but after she was in bed she found that sleep eluded her. She knew why, and lay awake staring at the ceiling, knowing that she might not sleep at all that night. Such a silly, trivial thingâ¦just because Richard had touched her.
Yet it wasnât trivial, and she knew it. She might have pushed the nightmare away, she might have restructuredher life completely, but her past was hers, a part of her, and it hadnât been trivial. Rape wasnât trivial. Since that night she hadnât been able to bear for anyone to touch her. Sheâd worked out a compromise with herself, satisfying her human need for warmth and touching by working with her patients, touching them, but she could bear the contact only as long as she was the one in control.
On the surface she had recovered completely; she had built a wall between who she was now and who she had been then, never dwelling on what had happened, literally forcing herself to gather together the shattered pieces of her life and, with fierce concentration and willpower, actually mending the pieces into a stronger fabric. She could laugh and enjoy life. More importantly, she had learned how to respect herself, which had been the hardest task of all.
But she couldnât tolerate a manâs touch.
That night had effectively prevented her from marrying and having a family. Since that part of life was denied her, she ignored it, and never cried for what might have been. Instead she became a vagabond of sorts, traveling around the country and helping other people. While she was on a case she had an intense relationship full of love and caring, but without any sexual overtones. She loved her patients, and, inevitably, they loved herâ¦while it lasted. They became her family, until the day when it was over and she left them with a smile on her face, ready to continue on to her next case and her next âfamily.â
She had wondered, when she began her training, if she would ever be able to work with a man at all. The problem worried her until she decided that, if she couldnât, she would be handicapping her career terriblyand made up her mind to do what was necessary. The first time she worked with a man sheâd had
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