Read Online Dead Voices by Rick Hautala - Free Book Online

something of your background. I know you’ve been living in — you said Meredith, New Hampshire?”
    Elizabeth nodded. “Uh-huh.”
    “And you mentioned working with Dr. Gavreau for the last year or so,” Graydon said. He clasped his hands and rubbed them together vigorously. “But today let’s not get into anything about why you think you need therapy. I just want you to relax. Let’s take some time for you to get comfortable with me and my surroundings. Just tell me about yourself.”
    Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair as she came around to the front of the easy chair and sat down, heaving a heavy sigh. Taking his cue, Graydon sat down in the chair opposite her. Unlike Gavreau, he didn’t instantly produce a notebook and pen for taking notes.
    For the next half hour or so, Elizabeth gave Graydon a brief sketch of her life — how she had grown up in Bristol Mills, had majored in English at the University of Maine, where, during her junior year, she had met and married Doug, and how, after a few lean years following graduation, they had started doing all right once Doug found a good job teaching history at Lakes Region High School in New Hampshire. In all that time, though, she didn’t once mention Caroline, simply because every time she even tried to broach the subject, her eyes would start stinging and her throat would close off.
    Once Elizabeth had finished talking about her recent separation — and imminent divorce — from Doug, Graydon asked again if she would like something to drink. She accepted this time, and he went over to the counter, took two cups out of the cupboard, and poured them each a cup of coffee. When he returned to his chair, they were silent for several seconds.
    “From everything you tell me,” Graydon said, “it sounds as though your life was fairly together. I mean, in terms of people who need help, I have clients — I prefer the word client over patient , by the way. After all, if we’re human, which one of us isn’t ‘sick,’ in some way? But as I was saying, I have clients who are much worse off than you appear to be. Is your problem simply that-well, things are changing, perhaps too fast for you right now, and you’re having trouble handling those changes?”
    Elizabeth laughed, but a thin laugh without a trace of humor. “I think I can handle changes as well as anyone can,” she said. “I mean, even driving out here today, I saw so many changes around Portland. God, the Maine Mall has sprawled out to take over the whole countryside. I remember when it was just a cow field out there. Even in little old Bristol Mills, there are one, sometimes two houses wedged in between every house that was there when I was growing up. And the stores and traffic. Forget it!”
    “But that has nothing to do with the way you feel,” Graydon said pointedly. “I was talking about how you are handling these recent changes in your life.”
    “It’s been ... painful,” Elizabeth said, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
    “So if this separation from your husband isn’t simply one or both of you ‘growing out’ of the relationship, what do you think caused it?” Graydon asked.
    Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered as her gaze went past the doctor and out the window. She couldn’t see the ocean, just a square of bright blue sky; but she found it almost comforting, just knowing the ocean was out there. She imagined herself a tiny white dot of a sea gull, spiraling — free! — high above the raging surf.
    “Well, you see,” she said, her voice low and raspy, “my husband and I . . lost our daughter.”
    Like a jolt of electricity ripping through her body, the memory of that night came rushing into her mind. She barely maintained control of her voice as she began to relate what had happened that night.
    “It was late, well after nine o’clock, when Doug and I and Caroline started for home. We’d been visiting my parents during February school vacation and had planned on