So far, she had been right. She spent most of her day on the floor of the den with Connor, making faces at him and sticking out her tongue and reading him fairy tales she’d dug up. In fact, the only problem had been that, watching them, Alex had no desire to leave. He’d taken to bringing his scripts home, and reading them in the den where he could watch his wife and his son play.
“What time are you coming home?” Alex said.
Cassie laughed and picked up her jacket. “Why? So you can have dinner on the table?” She shook her head and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re turning into a house-husband, Alex.”
Alex grinned. “No one ever told me how much more gratifying a career it was.”
Cassie brushed the top of Connor’s head with her lips. “It also pays less,” she said.
“Have fun with Ophelia,” Alex said.
Cassie groaned. “She’s going to grill me for the next three hours. Do you know she actually asked if being at Pine Ridge was anything like what that white woman went through inDances with Wolves?”
Alex laughed. “What did you tell her?”
“No buffalo,” Cassie said, “more snow, and worse clothing.” She shook her head and walked across the parlor, dodging a maid who was carrying a stack of tablecloths. When she got to the door, she turned around, biting her lip and checking to see that the hall was clear of people. “You didn’t forget about tonight?”
Alex looked up at her the way he often did these days, as if he did not entirely trust himself to believe that she was there, and that if she walked out that door she would actually come through it again only hours later. “I didn’t forget,” he said.
DR. JUNE POOLEY WAS THE ONE THERAPIST CASSIE HAD SPOKEN TO who did not insist that the only way a battered wife could change her circumstances was by getting herself out of her husband’s physical range. She told Cassie about something called battered women’s syndrome, and she said that it was a sickness, like alcoholism. And as with alcoholism, through certain kinds of therapy both abusers and victims could come to understand their problems and the best way to deal with them.
“If you’re an alcoholic, you have to understand that you’ll never be able to take a drink again. Not to toast your brother’s wedding, not to fit in at a business lunch, never. If you’re being beaten,” Dr. Pooley said, looking at Cassie and then Alex, “or doing the beating, you have to understand that the impulses that let you get into those situations will have to be channeled elsewhere if you’re going to remain together.”
Alex wove his fingers between Cassie’s and squeezed her hand.
Dr. Pooley took a deep breath. “You should also understand that the odds are against you. But even if you were to divorce each other, without therapy, it’s almost a given that Alex would find a woman with a personality type like Cassie’s and take out his rage on her, and that Cassie would search out someone like Alex who would, in turn, abuse her all over again. No matter what happens, you’re taking a step in the right direction. The first part of therapy for each of you is going to be to see other people like yourselves, in the same situation you’ve been in.”
Cassie looked up at Alex, who was staring with calm, clear eyes at the therapist who was going to change their life. He didn’t seem nervous at all—not about coming to the quiet oak-paneled office, and now, not even about admitting to a group of unfamiliar men that he hit Cassie.
Cassie frowned at that, thinking ahead for Alex. She knew about doctorpatient confidentiality, but she wasn’t sure if the same would hold true for the members of the support groups. And obviously, that was a requirement for Alex.
“It’s clear that you’ve made a commitment to each other, which I appreciate,” Dr. Pooley said. She checked a clipboard, then looked up at Cassie. “I can put you into a women’s group on Wednesday night,”
she said. “And our men’s group meets on Sundays.”
“That’s not a problem,” Alex said.
“I LIKE HER,” CASSIE SAID AS THEY WERE SLIPPING INTO BED. “WHAT did you think?”
Alex yawned and turned off the light. “She’s okay,” he said.
“She didn’t do a double take when you walked through the door,”
Cassie pointed out. “She didn’t ask you for your autograph.”
Alex nuzzled her shoulder. “She’ll have it dozens of times over,” he said. “Every time I send her a check.”
In the dark, Cassie turned to Alex and pressed her palms against his chest. “You don’t mind talking about us in front of strangers?”
Alex shook his head and bent his mouth to Cassie’s breast. He could taste the faintest traces of milk that his son had left behind, and he suckled gently, loving the idea that she could nourish them both.
“What about what else she said?” Cassie whispered. Alex pulled away from her, hearing the ragged note of fear at the edge of her voice. “What if we’re in the majority and we can’t stay together?”
Alex gathered her into his arms and rubbed his hands down her back.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he said simply, “since I’m never going to let you go.”
