* * *
Even while taking a summer curriculum, Jade was able to work longer hours in the store until she was as familiar with the stock and the accounts as was Miss Dorothy herself. By the end of the summer, Jade had become so indispensable to her that she fired her accountant and turned all the bookkeeping over to Jade.
“I’ll need more money,” Jade had told her softly but firmly. “At least fifty dollars a week.”
They settled on a forty-dollar raise. Jade saved most of it. If there was ever another crisis in her life, she was determined to have more than twenty dollars on which to survive.
The Hearons and she managed to endure Graham’s Terrible Twos. Cathy merely moved everything breakable out of his reach. In the afternoons when Mitch returned home from the campus, he expended some of Graham’s excess energy by taking him for long walks. No matter what the weather, hand in hand they strolled down the sidewalks of the neighborhood. Mitch discussed with him the marvels of the universe, and, as though he understood, Graham listened. Their excursions usually produced something interesting—acorns, caterpillars, a bouquet of dandelions for the dining-room table.
Hank returned in the fall. Jade was surprised at how glad she was to see him. As promised, he had written at least once each week. His letters were newsy and anecdotal, and he always included an original drawing for Graham. After seeing each other daily for almost a month, Jade reopened the topic of their relationship. “Hank, you haven’t forgotten what I told you last spring, have you?”
“No,” he replied. “Have you forgotten what I told you?”
She gazed at him forlornly. “But I feel guilty. You should be going out and having fun. You should be developing other relationships that would be much more… fulfilling.”
He folded his long arms across his chest. “What you’re waltzing around is that I should be getting laid, right?”
“Right.”
“When I want to, I will, okay? Right now, the only woman I’m interested in making love with is having some problems. Until she works them out, I’m willing to make do.”
“Please don’t, Hank. I’ll never work these problems out. I don’t want to be responsible for your unhappiness.”
“I’m not unhappy. I’d rather be with you, not screwing, than be with someone else screwing and wishing it were you. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely none.”
He laughed, but his eyes turned serious. “There is something you can do for me, though.”
“What?”
“Get some professional help.”
“You mean a psychiatrist?”
“Or psychologist, or counselor.” He gnawed on his l
ower lip a moment before saying, “Jade, I’m not fishing to know, you understand, but I feel something traumatic happened that turned you off men. Am I warm?”
“Not men. I like men.”
“Then it’s sexual intimacy you’re afraid of. You weren’t repulsed when I tried to make love to you. You were scared.”
She neither disagreed nor conceded, but kept her eyes averted.
“Maybe if you talked it over with somebody, he or she could help you overcome it.”
“Don’t base any hopes on it.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to try.”
They didn’t discuss it again, but he had planted a seed in Jade’s mind. She carefully weighed the benefits and drawbacks. One deterrent was the expense. She begrudged having to invest money on professional counseling when she held out very little hope for a return on that investment. Another drawback was Hank himself. If she began seeing a psychologist, he might expect an instant recovery and start pressing her for more than she could give. Besides, the main purpose in her life now wasn’t to have a successful relationship with a man, but to avenge Gary’s death. Dealing with her phobia might splinter her focus.
The benefit, of course, was obvious. She might return to “normal.”
It wasn’t until a year after the subject came up that she scheduled her first appointment. For several weeks she kept her decision to herself. When she finally informed Hank, he grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezed them hard, and exclaimed, “Great! Terrific!”
The immediate outcome of the sessions was neither great nor terrific. Discussing the rape with the female psychologist opened up wounds that Jade had hoped were cauterized by time and distance. She came away from each session feeling as though she had been violated again. After months of therapy, however, she gained confidence that one day she might be able to put her fears aside. If that ever happened, she would be as glad as Hank.