Read Online Deceptions of the Heart by Denise Moncrief - Free Book Online

captured my attention, flitting around a tree outside as if its nest had been disturbed. The sun reflected off the steel and glass structure across the street, shining in my eyes and making me blink from the glare.
    “Mrs. Cristobal?” he prompted me. His chair squeaked under the strain of his movements.
    I returned my attention to him. He slid his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and started to rise from his chair.
    “So which is it? You can’t help me or you won’t help me?” I asked.
    He dropped back into his seat. The chair rolled a bit. “I don’t know what you think I can do.” He spread his hands as if he was helpless. As if I’d asked the unreasonable.
    “Couldn’t this cellular memory thing explain—”
    “Someone else’s soul cannot inhabit your body. Even theories of reincarnation—if you believe such nonsense—do not suggest such as this. You cannot have another woman’s memories. The combination of medications you have been taking must have produced delusional thinking. Your mind has tricked you,” he explained as if instructing a slow student. “I suggest you see a psychiatrist. I can give you the names of several well-respected doctors in your area.”
    My neck muscles tightened. “You know, somehow this doesn’t surprise me.”
    He leaned back as if my vehemence surprised him. “What doesn’t?”
    “That you can’t explain what’s happening to me. If you can’t, what makes you think a shrink can?”
    “This is some sort of psychological—”
    “So you’re saying I’m psycho?” I fumed.
    “This might be a psychotic break or—”
    His telephone interrupted his analysis. He grumbled, but it continued the hideous buzzing.
    “Excuse me,” he said and snatched the bothersome instrument from its base. “What?” He listened and then his brow creased. “No. No. Send him back.” He dropped the receiver onto the base with a thud. “You’ve been to see Mr. Prentiss?”
    My pulse jumped. “Is Alex here?”
    “You cannot interact with Mrs. Prentiss’ family. I thought we discussed this the last time you were here.”
    Knocking interrupted our conversation. The doctor flew to the door and I stood when Alex entered the room. My stomach muscles tightened. He had refused to help me. Why was he here?
    He addressed me instead of the doctor. “I thought I’d find you here.”
    “Please, Mr. Prentiss, come in. Sit down. It seems we have a…situation.” The doctor returned to the sanctuary behind his desk.
    Alex studied me. “Are you all right?” I nodded. Concern radiated from his eyes while he held my gaze. “I believe her.”
    My knees nearly buckled, the relief was so overwhelming. I dropped into the nearest chair.
    The doctor mumbled something beneath his breath before responding to Alex’s incredible declaration of support. “You do realize her story is unbelievable?”
    Alex still stood, one hand supporting his weight on the back of my chair, the other hand resting on my shoulder. His warmth permeated my blouse. His reassuring presence overcame my weariness. Despite his infidelity, it was comforting to have someone on my side.
    “I don’t understand it, but I know she has Rhonda’s memories. She told me things only Rhonda would know. She talks like Rhonda and she acts like Rhonda. I feel…I sense Rhonda’s persona in this woman I don’t recognize. Whoever she is, she needs help to cope with this.” His fingers pinched my shoulder a little more with each word. His statements echoed around the small office. Yet somehow the recitation of what he believed sounded stilted, as if he’d rehearsed what he should say.
    The doctor huffed. “I have seen two or three instances of what might be considered cellular memory phenomena. But never have I seen anything such as Mrs. Cristobal suggests.”
    The two men conversed and, within the context of the situation, what they said made sense, but their words rang hollow as if they were sight-reading lines from a play.
    I wiggled