The Lewis Legacy Series Box Set: 4-in-1 Special Edition Page 43

  The doctor was quiet for a moment. “So, you think if you’d somehow been a better Christian, this wouldn’t have happened to Natalie? To you?”

  That last question sounded a tad accusatory. Or maybe he was being defensive again and reading too much into the questions. “I don’t know.” Rising from the chair, Marc crossed his arms across his chest and started to pace. “Here’s the thing: God tells us He won’t give us anything more than we can handle. Lately, I’m wondering if I’m up to the challenge. I feel . . .” His words trailed as he stopped.

  “You feel . . . ?” The psychologist had the patience of Job, unlike his patient. He waited as Marc grappled for the right words.

  “I feel . . . cheated.” That was one way to describe it.

  Dr. Fontaine clasped his hands together on his lap. “Tell me more.” The expression on his face was eager, and Marc recognized they were getting to the meat now: the kind of soul-wrenching confession that constituted this man’s bread and butter. The doctor appeared to be close to salivating.

  Marc hesitated, struggling to put his jumbled thoughts into words resembling coherency. “I feel cheated that I have to start all over again with Natalie. She didn’t like me very much when I first started asking her out. It wasn’t so much me as what I do. I had to break down those barriers she’d erected in her mind against those in the advertising profession. Natalie felt that no one, especially a Christian, could operate a business she believes sells souls for profit.”

  “What changed her mind about you, besides your scintillating personality?” The voice was droll, but the doctor’s eyes held a mischievous glint.

  “Watch it. I’m paying you handsomely to insult me,” Marc said. They shared a grin. “I employed one of the other qualities in ad men that annoys women like Natalie—persistence. She glimpsed a part of me she somehow grew to love in spite of herself. She discovered the beating heart hidden beneath the sometimes smarmy, ad-man exterior.”

  Reality crashed into his thoughts, and his grin faded as quickly as it had surfaced. What a roller coaster. Since Natalie’s fall, he hated reality. Facing the truth was too bleak and unforgiving. Marc raised his hands, helpless, at a loss to describe his inner torment. “How do you think it makes me feel,” he said, his words carefully measured, “to know that I can’t freely touch my wife, can’t pull her in my arms, can’t kiss her and physically show her what’s in my heart?” With a scowl, he slumped back down in the chair.

  “So, you miss the outward, physical manifestation of your love.”

  Marc stared. For such an intelligent, learned man, that statement sounded profoundly ignorant, not to mention blatantly obvious. “Yes,” he said slowly, “you could say that. I’m a man with a healthy, normal desire for my wife, and need I remind you, I’m supposed to be a newlywed.”

  “Which makes it even harder.”

  He paused, fighting the rash response that would not endear him to the learned psychologist. “Dr. Fontaine, forgive me, but am I paying you to state the obvious?”

  “Sometimes the best way to help someone is to listen.”

  He snorted. “Kind of like an overpriced sounding board?” Lowering his eyes, Marc bowed his head and covered his face with his hands. Releasing a loud, muffled groan, he knew the guttural, uninhibited sound conveyed more than words ever could. All he could hear was the ticking clock, every second costing him dearly. But it helped or he wouldn’t be there. He raised his head. “I’m sorry. Of course, it’s much more than the physical aspects of marriage I miss. Tell me what to do.” He needed reassurance that some good would come from Natalie’s fall and the amnesia, but perhaps no human being could give him that comfort. Where were those whispered words in his heart when he really needed them?

  “Marc, how do you pass the days?”

  Ah, sidestep the hard-hitting question with another question. Doctors, especially shrinks, were very deft at that maneuver. “Basically, I bury myself in work.” It was the most honest, simple answer he could offer.

  “I’m sure your clients are very happy to have you devote extra attention and time to their ad campaigns,” Dr. Fontaine said. “From what I know, you’re nothing short of a genius. A virtual golden boy.”

  Marc shot him a quick look, full of irony. An actual compliment? A few months ago, an ego-stroke like that would have made his day. But now, he was indifferent. “Padding my bank account is no consolation prize. I love my job, but I love my wife much more. I’d give it all up in a second if somehow time could be turned back and Natalie’s memories could somehow be restored.”

  “It’s good to have goals, but I suggest you keep your day job.” The corners of the doctor’s mouth, barely visible beneath all his facial hair, tipped upward ever-so-slightly. “You have to go home sometime. What do you do then?”

  The smugness was starting to irritate him. Running a hand over his brow, Marc shook his head, trying to concentrate. “I eat out, throw something in the microwave, reheat a casserole. I watch lots of sports on TV, and the best way to fall asleep is to read.”

  Dr. Fontaine laughed. “You must be reading one of my books.” His smile faded. “I understand your wife moved out.”

  Marc closed his eyes, hating to acknowledge what the psychologist said was true. He hadn’t told Dr. Fontaine, even though it was important. It was too humbling. His fingers twisted together as he avoided meeting the psychologist’s probing gaze. “It became increasingly awkward for us being in the same house together, especially for her.” He took a deep breath. Although not indicative of his failing as a husband, it was a sign to the outside world they were husband and wife in name only. Maybe it was the old selfishness rearing its ugly, prideful head again, but such an admission was ego-bruising. Surely an overpaid shrink knew guys didn’t appreciate looking like less of a man, especially to other men. Particularly the son of a famous, globally-respected athlete. “Natalie needs to find the stability in her life. She also thought it might be better for me, in some ways, if she was out of the house.”

  “And is it easier for you?”

  Marc met the psychologist’s steady gaze. He shook his head, and then shrugged. “The physical temptation has been removed, and that makes it easier. But not really.” He blew out a breath. “I miss her companionship. We told each other everything, shared about our work day, watched old movies . . . did everything together.” His eyes misted. “My wife is my best friend.”

  “You and Natalie are in contact, are you not?”

  He couldn’t help his sarcastic chuckle. Yeah, right. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “We trade e-mails a few times a week.” Routine how was your day kind of stuff. Not I miss your touch and can’t wait to meet you at home tonight. It was enough to make him groan. Maybe the physical aspects he missed preoccupied his thoughts, but he didn’t know how to turn off that part of him. Wasn’t it natural to want his wife, especially as a newlywed? Random thoughts and memories invaded his mind at work, and it was often hard to concentrate. “I try to call her once a day, but I don’t want to push too much on her too fast.” He shot a helpless look across the desk. “It’s hard to know what the perimeters are, and I’m not sure how receptive she’ll be. As you’ve said, hopefully she’ll give me a clue when she’s ready for more.”

  Marc had begun to wonder if his bride would ever reach that point. All over again, his heart hurt, and his head pounded.

  “Do you have someone else to do something with—go to a movie, out to eat, see a game?”

  “There’s a few guys I can call.” Marc shuffled his feet on the floor. “But I haven’t really felt a need to get together with them lately.”

  “Why not?”

  “I tried, but we all sat around trying not to mention Natalie. It was the albatross in the room, and more than awkward. My buddies mean well, but they can’t understand what I’m going through. It’s not something I’d wish on my greatest enemy.” Not that he had any.

  “Have you tried talking with your pastor about Natalie and what’s ha
ppened?”

  “No. I’ve avoided darkening the doors of the church lately. It would be even harder seeing her there, although the last time I went, we sat together and went to lunch.” It was fun, but they’d gone their separate directions afterwards with barely more than a wave, leaving him empty inside. He’d tried another Christian fellowship, but a few of the single women rallied around him to the point where he felt uncomfortable, not wanting to explain his marital status. It wasn’t anyone’s business. It was amazing how a wedding ring didn’t signal a guy was off-limits to some women, and sometimes generated the opposite effect. Even in church.

  “What bothers you most about this entire situation?”

  He tried not to roll his eyes. Again with the situation business. “The fact that my wife has no memory of me and our life together is pretty hard to stomach.” An unexpected surge of anger rushed through him. “How can I worship a God who can allow such a thing to happen? How can I thank Him for stealing Natalie away from me?” His heart pounded with an intensity that took him by surprise.

  A vision of old Mr. Davis popped into his head again, reminding him against being selfish. It had become increasingly difficult to read his Bible. He knew he shouldn’t expect miracles overnight, but he’d been praying and nothing was happening. Wasn’t the Lord supposed to be faithful if he was obedient? His impatience probably had a lot to do with it, but still . . . Marc avoided Dr. Fontaine’s eyes and looked away in self-disgust. “I suppose that makes me sound like a terrible Christian.” It wasn’t so much a question as a private thought that slipped out. Way to go. You’re blowing any Christian testimony you might have with this guy.

  “Considering the fact I’m not a Christian, I can’t answer that one. I can, however, tell you that you’re reacting in an entirely normal way considering the blows you’ve been dealt.” He caught his eye. “They might not be physical blows, but they pack every bit as much of a punch, so to speak. I think we’ve made some very good headway today. Now, you asked me what to do. I have a couple of suggestions.” He glanced at his watch, signaling their hour-long session was almost at an end. “First, you have to face the fact that if Natalie doesn’t regain some of her memories soon, you’ll have to start all over again. If that’s what you want.”

  Marc swallowed hard. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Court your wife a second time. Take her on dates, win her over with your undeniable charm.” The doctor’s smile was wry. “Show her how you won her in the first place. Don’t push her, and give her time to respond. In other words, give Natalie time to fall in love with you all over again.” Marc muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and the doctor eyed him curiously. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

  Clearing his throat, he rose to his feet. “Basically, I said, ‘second time around.’”

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” Dr. Fontaine guided him toward the door, one hand on his shoulder. Men apparently liked to do that when they dispensed words of wisdom. “From everything you’ve told me, Natalie’s worth the effort. If any man’s up to the challenge, it would be you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence. What’s the second suggestion?”

  “Talk with someone who shares your faith, someone like a minister or an older friend in the church. Do you have someone like that?”

  He didn’t. Not really. Sure, he had guys stand up with him in his wedding, but for the most part, they were fraternity brothers from Yale and a couple of former ballplayers. They hardly qualified as spiritual advisors. Then there was Trevor, but he was an employee. Still, as his right hand in the agency, he was so much more than a paid employee. As much as anyone else, Trevor was one of his best friends. He’s also the one who led you to the Lord.

  Marc cracked a small grin. “Are you saying you don’t want to work with me anymore?”

  “No.” Dr. Fontaine didn’t smile. “Someone who shares your beliefs might be better able to help you sort through your feelings insofar as they’re connected with the spiritual realm.”

  Walking with slow steps toward the heavy wooden door leading to the outer office, Marc paused, one hand on the doorknob. “Maybe you’re right. So, do you think I’m making any progress?”

  The doctor allowed a small smile. “More than you realize. It’s going to be a slow process if Natalie doesn’t regain her memory, but we’ll hope for the best. You never know what can happen. She could wake up tomorrow, her memory fully intact, or little pieces could come back in the least expected ways and moments. The human brain is an amazing thing, and that’s why I love what I do.”

  Marc nodded. “Thanks. I’ll see you next week, and in the meantime, I’ll think about what you said.” Lost in thought, he made his way on foot in the direction of the house a half mile away from the psychologist’s office in the suburban Boston hospital. It was such a lovely day that he’d decided to take a rare walk during the workday. Glancing at his watch, Marc figured he had time to grab a sandwich before heading back downtown and his mid-afternoon appointment. A group of giggling children ran past him, one of the boys brushing his arm as he flew past. He almost yelled to the youngster to watch where he was going but stopped short when he saw her.

  Natalie sat alone on a park bench not more than a hundred yards away. His steps faltered, torn with indecision. Memories flooded his mind as he stared. Her hair fell in loose waves to her shoulders, the way he loved it best, and she wore a pretty dress and high-heeled sandals, highlighting her long, slender arms and legs. He wanted to run to her, throw his arms around her, hold her close, and kiss her senseless. Take it slow and easy, as if you’re starting all over again. Although the suggestion seemed ludicrous, Dr. Fontaine was right. Marc mentally bolstered himself.

  Here I go, Lord. Be with me.

  Chapter 10

  A shaggy, white mutt appeared beside Natalie, a leash trailing its way around the edge of the park bench. That was a surprise, and Marc couldn’t stop his grin. A soft breeze blew her hair, lifting soft wisps that caressed her cheeks. As he approached, she turned her head in his direction. When her smile surfaced, it made his heart sing—off-key, no doubt. No woman’s smile compared to Natalie’s.

  As he approached, she moved over on the bench, making way for him. Plastering on his best smile with an outward confidence he didn’t feel, Marc dropped down next to her, his heart pumping overtime. So much was at stake. Why was she here in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t she be at the school? He told her about his bi-weekly appointments with Dr. Fontaine just as she told him about her various appointments with her own doctors.

  “Hi.” Dark blue eyes met his.

  “Hi, yourself. Who’s your friend?” He scratched the mutt’s ears and made a friend for life. The dog cocked its head to one side, watching him with big, limpid brown eyes. What a lovable mug. “Hey, little guy.” A small, rough tongue licked the side of his hand, and he chuckled.

  “This,” Natalie announced, “is Elwood.”

  “Elwood?” Marc grinned. “Interesting name.”

  “It’s from The Blues Brothers.”

  His eyes widened. Turning to face her on the bench, he laid gentle hands on both her shoulders, unable to tamp down his rising excitement. “We watched the movie together once and, now that I think about it, we talked about liking the fun names . . . for the dogs we might adopt someday. This could mean something, Natalie. Maybe a little piece of your memory is coming back.” Hey, he’d fight these battles as he went along. A little or a lot, he’d take what he could get.

  ~~**~~

  Natalie hated to take away the enthusiasm in Marc’s voice, the hope in his eyes. Again. Seemed that’s all she’d been doing lately. Her heart skipped a beat as his gorgeous blue eyes met hers. “Or it could be that Kim and I watched the movie at the apartment a few nights ago.” As expected, her husband’s countenance clouded, disappointment etched into his handsome features. He looked like a little boy whose favorite toy had been dangled in front of him only to be yanked beyond his grasp
. He probably felt that way about a lot of things. And it was all her fault. She wasn’t a cruel person, but the look on his face made her feel like one.

  Bending over, Marc scratched behind both Elwood’s ears. “Well, I suppose it’s good you’ve found yourself a companion.” He shot her a wry grin, easing her discomfort somewhat.

  “You mean a companion of male persuasion that’s not human?” She laughed as he feigned shocked surprise.

  “Amnesia or not, you know me pretty well.” He laughed quietly. “Since you started it, I don’t mind saying I hope he’s warming your bed at night.” He grunted and averted his gaze. “When did you get him? I assume he belongs to you.” His eyes dropped to her wrist with the leash wrapped around it.

  “I picked him out at the shelter a couple of days ago.” She smiled. “His little ears shot up in the air, and he tilted his head and gave me one of those please-take-me-home-with-you looks. I couldn’t resist.” She looked over at him. “Actually, I thought he might be a good companion for you.”

  “Me?” Marc hesitated, running his hand along the mutt’s back, wishing she’d find him irresistible—not a dog—no matter how cute. “I’m hardly ever home. Business is really good and things are hectic at the agency . . .” His voice trailed, and he blew out a sigh, his gaze falling on Elwood. “He sure does have big eyes.”

  “You work too hard, Marc.”

  His grin disappeared. “Care to guess why I do that?” He looked remorseful the second the words escaped. “Sorry.”

  She steeled herself. It had to be said. “If you want to file for an annulment, or a divorce, I’ll understand. You have a life to live, and I don’t want to keep you from it.”

  “That’s not what I want and you know it,” he shot back. “I know you don’t either. Christians don’t give up, and I can’t believe you even suggested it.” Now he sounded angry.

  “What I want is to be fair to you, and I know how hard this is.” She twisted her hands together on her lap before starting that little dance thing with her fingers. A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I know you feel it was unfair of me to move out of the house, but I want you to know something.”