Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"Really," he said, his eyes as innocent and honest as a little boy's. "Ever since I began working with you, you're all that's on my mind. Sometimes. I'm drifting so badly when I'm with other patients, they practically have to yell to get my attention. All I do is apologize all day and wait for the time I can came back to you. It's like your face has been printed indelibly on the insides of my eyelids. Close my eyes to rest them or go to sleep, and guess who I see?"

I smiled and touched his lips. He kissed the tips of my fingers. Then he sighed and sat up.

"I'd better be going," he said. "I can't be here when Mrs. Bogart comes around, that's for sure." He put an his shirt. 'Now, we are like Romeo aid Juliet, forbidden lovers. I'll have to reread it."

"It doesn't have a happy ending. Austin." I reminded him.

"We will," he promised.

He dressed as quietly as he could. Then he kissed me good night and slipped out the window.

He was gone so quickly I was sure it had all been a dream.

I curled up as best I could, snuggled against my plush pillow, and closed my eyes.

In moments, I was asleep. The darkness, trouble and pain of the day fell back like ashes consumed in the fire of our wonderful passion.

For the first time in a long time. I actually looked forward to tomorrow.

The energy and excitement with which I greeted each new day astonished me almost as much as it did Mrs. Bogart, who-- no fool herself-- glanced at me and then at Austin with a knowing look, confirmed by a small nod or a gleam in her eyes. Yet she said nothing nor made any derogatory comment. However, the first time I invited him to stay for dinner, she shook her head disapprovingly. I soon found out, she had become Aunt Victoria's little spy, not out of any displeasure or anger, but because Aunt Victoria had convinced her I was vulnerable to socalled fortune hunters.

The next day Aunt Victoria rushed in like a guard dog, growling and barking, seething with anger at the trespasser.

"What's this I hear that your therapist is now having dinner with you and visiting you at all hours as well as spending far more time than he's been hired to spend on your therapy?" she demanded without even a hello.

I was in the den-office writing a letter back to Mr. MacWaine from England who had been told of my accident and had written to express his resets and sympathy. I had yet to hear anything from Roy, despite my attempts to contact him. I was going to write another letter to his army attorney.

I sat back in my chair.

"Well?" she demanded. "What's going on here?"

"I don't see where this is any business of yours, Aunt Victoria. I don't mean to be insolent or nasty, but I am in charge of my life, even if I am stuck in this wheelchair' ."

"That's ridiculous," she said. "No one's suggesting you can't be in charge of your own life, but you are obviously not listening to good advice. I don't give you this advice on my own. I've spoken with a number of experts on the subject and they all agree that in your condition, especially so fresh in it, you are absolutely defenseless. If someone like me doesn't stand up for you, you'll be--"

"Hurt?"

"In more ways than you can imagine." She paused, approached the desk, folded her arms under her small bosom and stiffened her neck. "Now," she said firmly, her lips tight. "I want to know just how far this whole thing has gone. Are you having a romantic episode with this... this so-called therapist?"

"Romantic episode?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

We stared at each other. I didn't know whether to laugh or just shout her out. Suddenly, her face softened,

"Believe me," she continued, her voice far more gentle, "men are first and foremost sexual predators. They sneak up on you and pounce when you're most weak and vulnerable, and I'm not just referring to someone like vou. They circle even the strongest and healthiest women with their smile and their soft talk and their promises and then they take your... selfrespect. It doesn't even occur to them that they're doing that and even if it did. I don't think it would matter much."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, grimacing with some confusion. It was hard to accept Aunt Victoria as someone who gave advice to lovelorn women. She glanced at me and then she turned and walked to the window.

"I know you think I'm someone without any experience in these sort of matters, but that's not true. I'm just good at keeping it all under lock and key." She turned to me. "I do have some wisdom, womanly wisdom to share with you. My sister." she said almost spitting the words. "never cared to listen to anything I would tell her in that regard. She was always more Who was I to tell her anything? Well, having more experiences, sleeping with more men, doesn't mean you've become wiser about it. You have to have the right stuff up here," she said pointing to her temple, actually poking it with the tip of her finger so hard. I had to wince. "You have to be able to make use of the experiences,

"She never had it and never will. But you do. Rain. I know you do," she said, sounding like she was pleading for us to be good friends. "And I can give you some advice that you will appreciate.

"Listen to me." she said angrily. "Men are predators, fortune hunters, ready to pounce. I've been victimized myself," she revealed and then looked away.

The silence was so deep and thick. I could hear water running through a pipe on the other side of the house.

"What do you mean you were victimized?" I finally asked.