“Yay, a paid vacation! Being a small business owner, I’ve never had one.”
I pull up a map and spend a moment planning her itinerary. “You’ll travel to Bourges tomorrow. You’ll stay there for two days and do lots of sightseeing. From there, you’ll go to Poitiers, which takes you within an hour by train or car from Lusignan. You’ll visit the museums and cathedrals in Poitiers for another two days.”
“Hang on!” She jots down my directions.
“You’ll pay cash everywhere. On Friday morning, you’ll go to the railway station in Poitiers, buy a train ticket and travel to Lusignan. I’ll join you there.”
She raises her hand, palm toward me. “High five, partner!”
I high-five her, grinning.
We get on famously, Charlie and me!There’s a rapport, a connection between us, and a very fulfilling one at that. The only problem is that our relationship feels less like the romance betweenTop Gun’sCharlieandMaverick than the bromance between Goose and Maverick.
But she’s my destiny, so it’s bound to change.
STELLA
My fingers are fidgeting in my lap as I shoot Darrel an anxious glance. Dr. Biel’s waiting room is spacious and bathed in warm, natural light from the large windows that overlook a garden. Abstract art posters liven its pale blue walls. The soft murmur of the tabletop fountain and some subtle scent wafting through the air reinforce the pleasantness of the atmosphere. But I’m freaking out, nonetheless.
Darrel leans toward me, whispering, “It’s going to be okay, Stella.”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Remember, Dr. Biel is one of the best in the field. She’ll help you make sense of everything that’s been happening.”
I nod, trying to force a small smile.
The door to the psychiatrist’s office opens. An elegant woman in her fifties calls the man who was already there when we arrived. Her voice and her manners are gentle. That’s a good thing.
Darrel looks around the now-empty waiting room. “Did you read the report I emailed you?”
“Yes, both parts.”
“And?”
I take a deep breath. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. And your trust humbles me.” He smiles softly.
His words and his smile help a little, as does the warmth coming off his big, strong body.I wish he’d touch me!That’s what I need now—his touch. If only he’d take my hand or wrap an arm around me and pull me into his embrace!
I shift in my seat. “Your detective is very thorough. I don’t doubt him. It’s just…”
“What?”
“The idea that my parents would go that far manipulating me, that they’d implant false memories…” I twist and untwist the strap of my handbag. “Is that even possible?”
“Science says it is.”
“Yes, I saw all the references in your detective’s report.” My gaze wanders around the room as I try to pinpoint what bothers me so much. “I can’t wrap my mind around the idea that my memories are fake, that the things I remember in detail never actually happened.”
He takes my hand.Finally!It’s crazy how much relief that simple gesture brings me.
“Your baptism in the church at Vosier-en-Haut never actually happened,” he says. “That’s a fact.”
“Why would Mom and Dad fabricate that memory for me?”
“I’m sure they had their reasons.” He shrugs. “Maybe, it was to dispel a doubt caused by one of their rituals you witnessed as a child. Or simply to test your mother’s skills before she graduated to planting the ‘Big Lie.’”
