“Quite serious?” Margaret felt the color drain from her face. She’d suspected there was something really wrong with her. And now he confirmed it.
“Well, clinically, we worry that a mother who is unable to recover naturally in the immediate postpartum period suffers from underlying psychological conditions that could be very harmful to the healthy development of her children.”
“My . . . children?” She startled.
“In extreme cases, we have seen mothers actually physically harm their babies. Even try to kill them.”
“You think I would try to kill my children?” Margaret’s tears returned with the force of a hurricane; she felt like she might vomit.
“I hope not. And I know you don’t want to do that intellectually, in your brain.” He tapped at his head. “But the emotional world sometimes runs counter to the intellect. That is why you are here.” He stood up, poured her a glass of water, and smiled eagerly as he handed it to her. “There is hopeful news for you, though. I do know how to help you. Why don’t you take a moment to gather yourself, and then I can tell you all about my miracle cure.”
Margaret left her session in a daze. Yes, what the doctor suggested terrified her, but if he could cure her in a single day, with a simple office procedure? Was it too good to be true, or the greatest gift she could receive? Her head was spinning, and she had an odd sensation of elation alongside her confusion. Instead of walking toward her car, she began to wander deeper into the property until she spotted a bench surrounded by the sweetest-smelling lilacs. It wasn’t appropriate, she knew, but she would just sit and get her thoughts in order before going home. Try to make sense of what the doctor had said. What it might mean. She tingled with fear, but for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt full of hope.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ruth wanted to cut some lilacs for the table before dinner. She found the fragrance relaxing and craved relaxation right now. She hadn’t taken a proper vacation since she started in her new role, more than seven years ago. Robert was so often on the road, and they were both so busy, that time had just evaporated. But she had been unusually on edge lately as she anxiously awaited Mandrake’s report, so when the board suggested that, in advance of their May meeting, she take a week for herself, she decided to do it. She had selected this week because Robert was home （seeing private patients, of course, but still present at Magnolia Bluff, at least）。 While he worked, she gardened to settle her uneasy mind.
As she rounded the hedge with her shears and basket, she found a woman sitting on the stone bench. She was a buxom blonde, her fashionable shoulder-length hair perfectly curled, her cheeks rosy from a dusting of rouge. She wore a simple but fetching shirtwaist dress, festooned with roses that matched the pink of her lipstick. Could this woman possibly be a patient? If so, it was a bit odd for her to be lingering on the property. Perhaps she was the mother or wife of someone seeing Robert for a session? Yes, that made more sense. Ruth had been in the business of mental health so long she could tell a patient almost on sight, and this woman did not fit the bill.
Perhaps she should turn back, give the woman some privacy? But she did look quite low. Ruth might be able to offer her some comfort.
“Hello there. Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” Ruth removed her wide-brimmed sun hat as she approached, so the woman could see her face.
“Oh my! I’m so sorry.” The woman jumped up and backed away from the bench as if she had been caught trying to steal it. “I was just collecting my thoughts and I—”
“Please, stay. It’s fine.” She reached out her hand. “I’m Ruth Apter, the doctor’s wife.”