YOU BULLIED ME. Why couldn’t she remember it? Her, the bully? That explained the light switch that went on and off with Caleb. But her memories of him were so ambiguous. He’d been a little different, and never a part of the group, yet he was always there. Hanging around. Still, he’d also been a troublemaker. At the time, probably the biggest one in Marrell, not that it had meant anything, as big trouble in Marrell hadn’t been much by other standards. But back when they’d been kids, if there had been trouble in town, she remembered Caleb usually being a part of it.
But she didn’t remember bullying him, and now she was scared. What was wrong with her? With her mind? With her memory? Caleb wasn’t lying about it. She knew that, because of his reactions to her. Caleb might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. Never had been.
So, if Caleb wasn’t lying, why didn’t she remember? How could she have been a bully when she hated everything that stood for? It went against her basic nature.
“Was I that bad to him, Dad?” she finally asked, plopping down in the chair across the desk from Henry. They were home, in his office, and she was hoping he had some answers for her, because she didn’t have any—not even one. She probably should have talked it out with Caleb, but after he’d accused her, he’d walked away, shut himself up in his room, and left her there to look at photos with Matthew. Not that she remembered much of what she’d seen, she’d been so upset.
“Were you bad to him?” Henry repeated, shrugging. “Not so much when you were younger. In fact, I think you loved him as much as any little girl could love any little boy. And when you got older…” His face wrinkled into a frown. “I don’t recall seeing anything that would indicate you were a bully. When you asked me if anything had gone on back then, I honestly tried to think back, but…” He shook his head. “At the time, I’d just absorbed John Wainright’s practice into mine, and I was busy adding on some patient rooms, getting ready for my first expansion. So, I was pretty tied up. Probably not paying as much attention to you as I should.”
That didn’t surprise her. Her dad had never paid much attention to her. As fond as he’d been of Caleb, though, she was surprised he’d never noticed anything going on, at least on Caleb’s side of it. “But he says I was a bully, Dad. So why would I have done that to him? And, most of all, not remember it?”
“I left you to your own devices too much. Maybe you were acting out to get attention. To be honest, there were a lot of times I gave Caleb more attention than I gave you. He always seemed so desperate to learn and, I think, to be someplace where he felt safe. Marrell was never safe for him. He was too smart. There was nothing here to stimulate him. And while his parents were…are good people, they were poor and couldn’t afford a lot for their children. So, they worked all the time, trying to make ends meet. Which left their kids free to wander around town all hours of the day and night.”
“And you took him under your wing, while you ignored me. How was that supposed to make me feel?”
“At the time, I didn’t know I was doing that. You had everything you could possibly want. You were popular with all the kids in town. I thought I was giving you a good life.”
“You gave me things, Dad. You gave Caleb time.” Was that why she’d bullied him? Because he’d had a part of her dad she’d never had, and she’d acted out in resentment?
“I did the best I could,” Henry said.
“It hurt me, Dad. I deserved some of what you were giving Caleb and, yes, I resented that. Probably even hated him for it. But did I resent it enough to become a bully? And why don’t I remember it?” There was something else, though. Something she could feel skulking around inside her. Gnawing. And she wanted to know what it was. Dear God, she wanted to know.
“Again, what can I say? I missed it, Leanne. Missed too much. But as for you hating Caleb, I always thought you had a crush on him. Didn’t see any indications to the contrary.”
“When I was young, Dad. When we were little kids. But I bullied him when we were older, and I don’t remember it.” The feeling of not knowing, not recalling was so frightening, she was getting nauseous. Her hands were shaking. She wanted her dad to wrap his arms around her and simply be her dad for a little while. Tell her he’d help her. Tell her it would be OK. But he didn’t. Instead, he got up from his desk and walked to the office door, then laid his hand on it. He was walking away. As he’d always done.
“If you don’t remember it, Leanne, it probably wasn’t important.” That’s all he said, then he left. And she sat there alone, shaking, fighting back tears for the next ten minutes, trying to figure out what was happening to her. Or what had happened to her back then.
And feeling so, so alone it hurt.
* * *
Well, it hadn’t come out the way he’d intended. Being blunt like that was not his style, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to catch Leanne so off guard. But he had, and Caleb felt terrible about it. What purpose had it served, telling her how bad she’d been to him? She already knew it, even though she’d only hinted at vague memories of those days and had never truly owned up to them. Everybody in Marrell knew what those days had been like for him…for Leanne. The fact that he’d gone off the deep end and vandalized buildings up and down the main street after she’d humiliated him in front of half the town, then been hauled off to jail for it, hadn’t exactly been a well-guarded secret. Or that he’d been sentenced to a year in juvenile detention as a result, and forced to finish off his schooling there.
But it had been three days now since they’d talked, and he didn’t like watching Leanne do everything she could to avoid him. It was a small hospital in a small town, he worked for her, and ducking around corners or going in another direction could only go on so long before they’d finally have to confront the obvious. “I’m not sure what to do about it, Henry,” he said, as the two of them sat at a table in the cafeteria, drinking coffee.
“She mentioned something about how badly she treated you,” the older man said. “Seemed pretty upset about it.”
“She should be. Leanne was…brutal.”
“I think she thinks it happened because I paid more attention to you than I did to her.”
Truth was, so did he. At the time, he hadn’t caught on to that, but thinking back to those years, he didn’t recall that Leanne had had much of a place in Henry’s life. Which would explain a lot of things. But what it didn’t explain was her refusal to either remember or admit it and, frankly, that had him stumped. More than that, it worried him.
What worried him even more, though, was that Matthew was caught up in this. Because no matter how it turned out between Leanne and him, Matthew had grown attached to her and if he couldn’t trust her motives in hiding behind a selective memory, he couldn’t trust her motives when it came to anything else. And that included Matthew. He was right there in the middle of this, and he was the one who needed to be protected. “Well, Henry, it sure as hell is complicated. I like Leanne, but I can’t forget the way she treated me.”
“She seems to have.”
“I know. But she wasn’t the one who spent a year in lockup because someone had bullied her into doing something bad. And that’s a lot to live with.”
“Well, I think, Caleb, that since you’re going to be working for her, and she hasn’t changed her mind about that, you two will have figure it out between you.”
“Easier said than done,” Caleb snapped. This was getting him nowhere. He was grumpy—didn’t want to be. He was preoccupied—didn’t want to be that either. And he was defensive—another thing he didn’t want to be. All because Leanne wouldn’t own up to it and Henry was oblivious to it. Also, because he was caught up in Leanne in ways he didn’t want to be, or shouldn’t be. But he was trapped. Had to stay in Marrell for Matthew. Had to work at the hospital because there was no place else for him to work. Had to tamp down his frustrations to be the best doctor he could be—with all this turmoil going on inside him.
Maybe, now that he’d declared his intentions here, Leanne would go back to Seattle, and he could get on with it. But she seemed reluctant about that now. Caleb blew out a frustrated breath. “Not sure what I’m going to do about this, Henry.”
“Have you forgiven her for all that nonsense?”
“It wasn’t nonsense. Innocent people were hurt. Mostly the people who associated with me. And I was hurt. Maybe I didn’t realize it was such an issue then, but I do now, because every waking moment I worry about how Matthew will be accepted since he’s a little different, the way I was. I worry that someone out there will bully him the way Leanne did me. Make fun of him. Coerce him into doing things because he simply wants to fit in. If this was just about me and some old feelings, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But it’s not. Because everything I went through…my son is likely to go through, too. And I’m just looking for a way to handle it better so I can be there for him if it does happen.”
“Times were different then, Caleb. We weren’t aware that being the victim of a bully could have such a bad effect.”
“And in my day, it got me thrown in jail for a year. The army saved me, Henry. When no one else was there for me, I did the only thing I could think to do to give myself a chance at a decent future, and I would have stayed a soldier if I hadn’t been wounded, because that’s where I finally found myself and came to terms with the idea that I wasn’t the one who caused the problem. Believe me, I spent a lot of time thinking I was. Unfortunately, Leanne hasn’t come to terms with the fact that she was the one. And while I know she’s not that person any longer, I really do have the right to know why. What happened? Was it me, was it her? What was it, Henry? What do I have to look out for with Matthew?”
“Talk her again, Caleb. And keep talking until she remembers it or admits it. If she bullied you, and you both seem to think she did, there’s a reason and, yes, you do have the right to know. But don’t hide behind Matthew as your excuse. You’re the one who needs to know. It’s about you, not your son. So, make it right with Leanne. And keep talking. Because you’re never going to let yourself get truly settled here if you don’t. And that’s where Matthew will be affected. Not in what happened to you, but in how you’re dealing with it right now.”
“Talk to me about what?” Leanne asked, approaching the table. “How bad I was when I was a kid? How I ruined lives? I think I already know that.”
Caleb rose to his feet and pulled out a chair for her, but she refused to sit. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to just blurt it out like I did.”
“What hurts, Caleb, is knowing that I hurt you. I’ve called a couple of old friends who said, yes, I was terrible to you. They told me a few things…not much. It’s like I was so bad they can’t talk about it. And since you won’t…” She glanced over at her dad, who was trying to slip away unnoticed, then turned back to Caleb. “I need help. That’s all I can think of. I need help.”
“Help, as in?” Caleb said, noting that Henry had finally made his exit.
“That’s just it. I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”
She looked so scared, so upset standing there, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. He really wanted to pull her into his arms, to hold her, to comfort her. But what he wanted and what he knew he should do were two different things. He was concerned, though, because for the first time he was beginning to believe she really didn’t remember what had happened, that it wasn’t a case of avoiding or rewriting it, as he’d thought she was doing. She was too upset, too genuinely upset to be doing that. “Have you had some kind of neurological injury in the past?” he asked.
She laughed bitterly. “That would be the simple way to explain it, but no. I haven’t. And I’m really confused, Caleb,” she confessed. “So much so I’m not even sure I should be practicing medicine right now. It kills me thinking that I could have hurt you…or others. I’m not like that, don’t want to be like that. And I’m…” She swatted at a tear slipping down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “So sorry.”
Leanne turned and ran out the cafeteria door, while Caleb stood there and watched her. It didn’t add up. Nothing about this added up.
Sighing, he grabbed his paper cup, still half-full of coffee, albeit now lukewarm instead of hot, and headed to his office, and his computer. There was definitely something going on with Leanne, and he wondered…
* * *
“We need to talk,” Caleb said, poking his head in through Henry’s office doorway. He was exhausted this morning, after pulling an all-nighter, doing research. But what’d he’d found—well worth the effort, he hoped.
Leanne spun around in her dad’s chair to face him. “About what?”
She looked so totally defeated, so totally devastated, it broke his heart. “About you. About us.”
“There is no us, Caleb. How could there be?”
“That’s the question I keep asking myself, to be honest. But I like you, Leanne. The you who exists now. The you who existed when we were young. Not the interim you, though, during those few teenaged years. Which is what I want to talk to you about.”
She sighed, and waved limply at the seat across the desk from her. “Then talk. What else is left? I took myself off active duty this morning, asked Jack Hanson if he’d be willing to come to Marrell and cover for me for the rest of the time I intended on being here. Then I resigned my position back in Seattle because I can’t practice the way I am. So, sure, talk. I’ve got all the time in the world to listen.”
“Are you sure you need to do all that? To go from being so active to nothing…that’s what happened to me when I was wounded, and it will drive you crazy.”
“Well, since I’m already half-crazy…”
“Maybe not,” he said. “I’ll admit, I’d wondered if you were playing some kind of game with me, or just trying to avoid something that’s not pleasant to talk about…and then when you said you didn’t remember what you’d done to me, well, let’s just say I didn’t buy into any of that either.”
“Well, actually, I do remember some of it, Caleb. The part where you’re being handcuffed and put in the back of the police car. And…” She shut her eyes, rubbed her forehead. “The look you gave me from the car window as they were taking you away. I’ve always remembered that look, Caleb. You were so…lost. Frightened. And hurt. Most of all, I remember you being hurt.”
“I’d been hurt for a long time,” he said, settling back into the chair. “But your dad said something to me yesterday that actually made sense. When I came back to Marrell and you were here, my defenses were raised. I’ll admit that. But I kept telling myself it was because of Matthew. I thought I was angry that you wouldn’t admit what you’d done, or simply wanted to avoid it, because I was trying to protect Matthew from having the same thing happen to him. But that’s not the case, and your dad made me see that. I want to know, because I have a right to know. It’s about me. Not my son. I’m putting him in a school where that won’t happen to him, and I can’t use him as my excuse. I need to know because I need to know.”
“And I can’t tell you. So, where does that get us?” She spun back around to face the window.
“I think it gets us to a place called childhood traumatic amnesia.”
She didn’t turn back to face him. “I already told you I didn’t have a head injury, so how could I have amnesia?”
“Traumatic amnesia, Leanne. Traumatic. It doesn’t come from an injury necessarily.”
“And it doesn’t manifest in adults, so what’s your point?”
“The point is, maybe this is the place where the hero gets to rescue the damsel in distress.”
Finally, she did turn around to face him. “Why do you even care? I mean, what’s in it for you?”
The expression her face wasn’t anger, though. It was futility, hopelessness. Heartbreak.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe a friend. Maybe more?”
“More? With someone who brutalized you? You don’t want that, Caleb. How could you?”
That was the question for which he didn’t have an answer. Maybe he was reaching back to the Leanne he’d known when they’d been young, or reaching out to the one she was now. Maybe he was even reaching for the one she’d been even when she’d bullied him. Because when it came to Leanne Sinclair, he’d never had a clear head. Not back then, not now. And there was nothing to hide behind with that reality. No way to account for it. No way to understand it. He’d always had feelings. The heart did what the heart did and sometimes there was no explanation. End of story. “What I want isn’t very clear to me now, Leanne. Like your memory is not very clear to you.”
“Because of this childhood traumatic amnesia.”
“I think so. The chief symptom is you block out certain events that are just too difficult or traumatic to deal with. Sometimes it’s associated with false memories, where you build sort of a fairy-tale story around it to make it better. Sometimes it’s simply amnesia.”
Suddenly, she was interested. It shone in her eyes. “Like post-traumatic stress syndrome?”
“Something like that. But childhood amnesia is, most often, a diagnosis related to a specific incident. Something that caused you to shut down. PTSD can take in a whole gamut of events.”
“But I don’t have a fairy-tale story that makes anything better, Caleb. I don’t have anything.”
“Which brings me back to what I originally said. Childhood traumatic amnesia.”
“Which, like I said, is typical of younger children.”
“Then maybe you’re atypical. Who knows? Whatever the case, I think I’m onto something.” He hoped so. Dearly hoped so.
“Except I was never traumatized. Never subjected to anything harsh or cruel. No one ever hurt me. And I don’t think my dad ignoring me is enough to cause it.”
“Remains to be seen.” The more he thought about it, the more he was positive he was right. Because that would explain so many things. Not that she’d bullied him, but why? To make things right between them, maybe even explore the feelings he was pretty sure he had, and hoped she had, they both needed to know. Then, once that was cleared up, well…he didn’t know what came next but at least there were possibilities.