“I know, Father. Cassandra hasn’t been herself. You know how depression can be. But she’s getting better now.”
He shakes his head. “I still don’t understand it. She never seemed suicidal to me. Of course, neither did . . .”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. I blow out a breath. “She’s taking her medication regularly, which Mother never did. Hopefully she’ll stay on it, and this will never happen again.”
He nods. “I hope so. You need to make sure.”
“I will.” I stand, signaling that the conversation is over. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to see him for a long time. He’ll never believe that she’s Cassandra, even if he thinks she drove into a brick wall in an attempt to kill herself. He might believe that her injuries were substantial enough to constitute facial reconstruction, but her mannerisms are different too, and of course so is her voice. But he’ll go back to Arizona next week, and it shouldn’t be too hard to make excuses for why she won’t see him if I paint a picture of a woman descending into agoraphobia. He’s a psychiatrist too; he’ll more than understand.
“I tried to keep some of it from you. I was embarrassed, but she’s been struggling with anxiety and depression for a long time now. Before she tried to hurt herself, she’d started being afraid to go out. It’s been very difficult, but I’m doing my best to shield Valentina.”
“I’m glad that you’re making sure Cassandra gets the help she needs. That child deserves two parents who love her.”
If he only knew how much I agreed. “Yes, Father. I am. Speaking of which, we need to get on our way. Thanks again.”
I call out to Valentina. “Time to go. Come say goodbye to Grandfather.”
She runs into the room and wraps her arms around his legs. He laughs and picks her up, kissing her cheek.
“You will write to me and do the—what’s it called, the Facecall?”
“Facetime. Yes, she will,” I say.
I reach for her hand, grab her suitcase, and we get into the car.
As soon as we’re on the main road, she turns to me. “Where’s my mommy?”
“Sweetie, do you remember when I told you that Mommy got an operation?”
Her head bobs up and down. “Yes, a paration on her face?”
“Right. You see, Mommy had a car accident. Her face was hurt. But she’s okay now. It’s just that she’s going to look a little different, but she’s still your mommy.”
“No! I don’t want her to be different.”
I glance at her quickly. She’s pouting now. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. She misses you terribly and can’t wait to see you. You’ll get used to the way she looks, and she’s still beautiful.”
She doesn’t answer, and I drop it for now; after I’ve spent some hours with her in hypnosis over the next two days, she’ll be fine. Once she’s back home and has spent enough time with the new Cassandra, she’ll forget what her real mother looked like. She has to; otherwise this is all in vain, and I won’t have it all be in vain. She needs a mother as much as I need a wife. I’m giving her the family that I never had, that her real mother never had, but that’s the wonderful thing about life, and about psychiatry—it’s always giving you the opportunity to reinvent yourself, to make things right. I’m filled with new resolve. Today is the start of our new family—one that nothing and no one will ever tear apart.
It took me years to finally meet the woman that destiny had in store for me. All through college and medical school, I had nothing but superficial relationships. Plenty of attention from women looking for a rich doctor-to-be, but there was never a true connection. Until I met Cassandra. I knew, of course, that as her therapist, it wasn’t appropriate for me to have a relationship with her. But sometimes rules are meant to be broken. It became apparent very quickly that she’d been sent to me for a reason. I was the one who held the key to her happiness, the key to unlock her from the cage of her unhappy marriage, to give her a new life with me. I couldn’t have known how it would end up—that I’d lose her as swiftly as I’d found her. I won’t mess up this time. This time is for keeps.
*
After two days of sessions, Valentina and I are home. I’ve called ahead to alert Cassandra that our arrival is imminent, but despite all my preparations, I’m still nervous. I stop in front of the house instead of pulling into the garage, and before I’ve even turned the car off, Valentina is out of her car seat and trying to open the door, eager to see her mother. When I open it for her, she bounds out and reaches the front door just as Nancy, the new housekeeper, opens it. “Hello, Miss Valentina. Welcome home.”