Read Online Hope's Vengeance by Ricki Thomas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ricki Thomas
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don’t believe in adultery, she did it, she wrecked a family, she wrecked our lives. I won’t even let her register on my emotional scale.”
Dawn was perplexed, Hope was laying the blame for the affair firmly at Sandra’s feet, yet when she described her father leaving, the bottle spun in his direction. That would have to be explored some time. “Right. The other thing I noticed was your adverse reaction when I mentioned Sam.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Did he ever touch me, I know. Dawn, you seem intent on making me a victim of sexual abuse. Stop it. I’m not. No one went there. Okay? Sam never laid a finger on me, nor did my father, nor did anyone. My first boyfriend, Ryan, took my virginity, when I was ready, end of story.”
Dawn grinned. “You got me.”
Hope stood, thanked Dawn, and left.
The Staff Room
The coffee on the table had long since stopped steaming, forgotten. With no clients for the entire morning, Dawn had settled herself into the chair, feet on the table, and engrossed herself in the book she’d found on the shelf. She was looking for something to confirm her suspicions, anything, a clue, a behavioural trait, she had a gut feeling and however much Hope denied it, it still irked her. As if levitating, Pat glided into the room. Dawn swiftly moved her feet from the table. “Don’t do that on my account, dear.”
Dawn smiled, placed the book on the table, open and face down, and stretched, arms wide, long legs outstretched. She yawned, and took the coffee, huffing at its coldness. “Cold coffee, eh?” In an admirably flowing sequence, Pat had filled the kettle, switched it on, collected two mugs, spooned in some coffee and added milk.
Dawn rose, stretching again, this time arms and back, and strolled to the kitchen area, her streetwise strut a complete contrast to her boss’s elegance. She tipped the cold drink away, placing the mug in the sink. “Yes, I forgot all about it.”
Pat’s cotton wool hand patted her shoulder gently, she glanced back at the table. “What are you reading that’s got you so engrossed, dear?” She poured the boiling water into the mugs, stirring, and they each took their coffees to the table.
“Child Sexual Abuse by David Finkelhor. I found it in the bookcase.” Pat raised an eyebrow, waiting for elaboration, which left Dawn feeling even sillier. She sighed. “A client. She denies it. I don’t know why I keep going on about it, she’s getting pissed off with me.” Dawn glanced up, Pat wasn’t one to swear in front of, and she bit her tongue, hoping her boss would let it go. She did. “I don’t know.”
Pat took the mug in her plump hands, letting the warmth redden them further, and cocked her head to the side. Her prim curls were tight against her head, neat, old, and her lips worked gently as she thought. “Repression, maybe?”
Dawn shook her head vigorously. “Don’t believe in it, sorry.”
“For a reason?”
“It’s unproven. Even Freud dismissed his own theory eventually.”
Pat drained her cup, and floated back to the kitchen. “Two thoughts, dear, two thoughts. Firstly, don’t dismiss anything, just because it hasn’t been proven, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just remember, people swore the world was flat once.” Dawn nodded, the reasoning sinking in. “And secondly, Hope will tell you her problems, you’ll get to the bottom of it, just give it time.”
Dawn’s mouth gaped, she stuttered slightly. “How do you know I’m talking about Hope?”
Pat sailed to the door, the air about her remaining untouched, she paused, and opened it wide. “Dawn, she’s all you ever think about nowadays, dear. She’s gotten hold of you, and you’ve let her.” The door closed, and Dawn suddenly felt more alone than ever. She shuddered.
Session Seven
Dawn paced the room, her steps sturdy, meaningful, waving her hands firmly as she uttered the words, over and over. “Hope, I can’t see you any more. Hope, I
Dawn was perplexed, Hope was laying the blame for the affair firmly at Sandra’s feet, yet when she described her father leaving, the bottle spun in his direction. That would have to be explored some time. “Right. The other thing I noticed was your adverse reaction when I mentioned Sam.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Did he ever touch me, I know. Dawn, you seem intent on making me a victim of sexual abuse. Stop it. I’m not. No one went there. Okay? Sam never laid a finger on me, nor did my father, nor did anyone. My first boyfriend, Ryan, took my virginity, when I was ready, end of story.”
Dawn grinned. “You got me.”
Hope stood, thanked Dawn, and left.
The Staff Room
The coffee on the table had long since stopped steaming, forgotten. With no clients for the entire morning, Dawn had settled herself into the chair, feet on the table, and engrossed herself in the book she’d found on the shelf. She was looking for something to confirm her suspicions, anything, a clue, a behavioural trait, she had a gut feeling and however much Hope denied it, it still irked her. As if levitating, Pat glided into the room. Dawn swiftly moved her feet from the table. “Don’t do that on my account, dear.”
Dawn smiled, placed the book on the table, open and face down, and stretched, arms wide, long legs outstretched. She yawned, and took the coffee, huffing at its coldness. “Cold coffee, eh?” In an admirably flowing sequence, Pat had filled the kettle, switched it on, collected two mugs, spooned in some coffee and added milk.
Dawn rose, stretching again, this time arms and back, and strolled to the kitchen area, her streetwise strut a complete contrast to her boss’s elegance. She tipped the cold drink away, placing the mug in the sink. “Yes, I forgot all about it.”
Pat’s cotton wool hand patted her shoulder gently, she glanced back at the table. “What are you reading that’s got you so engrossed, dear?” She poured the boiling water into the mugs, stirring, and they each took their coffees to the table.
“Child Sexual Abuse by David Finkelhor. I found it in the bookcase.” Pat raised an eyebrow, waiting for elaboration, which left Dawn feeling even sillier. She sighed. “A client. She denies it. I don’t know why I keep going on about it, she’s getting pissed off with me.” Dawn glanced up, Pat wasn’t one to swear in front of, and she bit her tongue, hoping her boss would let it go. She did. “I don’t know.”
Pat took the mug in her plump hands, letting the warmth redden them further, and cocked her head to the side. Her prim curls were tight against her head, neat, old, and her lips worked gently as she thought. “Repression, maybe?”
Dawn shook her head vigorously. “Don’t believe in it, sorry.”
“For a reason?”
“It’s unproven. Even Freud dismissed his own theory eventually.”
Pat drained her cup, and floated back to the kitchen. “Two thoughts, dear, two thoughts. Firstly, don’t dismiss anything, just because it hasn’t been proven, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just remember, people swore the world was flat once.” Dawn nodded, the reasoning sinking in. “And secondly, Hope will tell you her problems, you’ll get to the bottom of it, just give it time.”
Dawn’s mouth gaped, she stuttered slightly. “How do you know I’m talking about Hope?”
Pat sailed to the door, the air about her remaining untouched, she paused, and opened it wide. “Dawn, she’s all you ever think about nowadays, dear. She’s gotten hold of you, and you’ve let her.” The door closed, and Dawn suddenly felt more alone than ever. She shuddered.
Session Seven
Dawn paced the room, her steps sturdy, meaningful, waving her hands firmly as she uttered the words, over and over. “Hope, I can’t see you any more. Hope, I
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