Intimate Relations: Awakened Part 4

She held out her arms. He stepped into her embrace and she hung on for dear life, but at least this morning she had an idea.

Marc nuzzled the top her head, snagging strands of hair in the bristles on his unshaven cheek. She rarely saw him with anything more than a light shadow at the end of the day, and she liked this look. A lot. Tilting her face to his, she kissed his scruffy chin.

"You okay this morning, babe?"

She loved the way he cupped her face in his hands, the way he looked at her as if she were someone special. "Better than fine, Marc."

"Aren't you worried about...?"

"That's just it." She went up on her toes and kissed him. Hard. "I know how we can find out what your dreams are about. I've got a great idea!"

"Dreams? I'm thinking about the broken condom. You've said more than once you're not ready to be a mother, but the risk..."

Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging as tight as she could. "I told you it's highly unlikely, but I also thought about it last night, and I realized that I've always figured I'm not ready because there was no one I knew whose child I would want. That changed when you moved in, Marc. No, I don't choose to get pregnant now and the odds are that I won't, but if I do, I can't think of a better man than you to have as a baby's father."

She saw a flicker in his eyes, knew what he was thinking. Realized how well she knew this man after only a couple of months. Before he could speak, she covered his lips with her finger. "No. Don't think it, don't say it. It's not because you have money. You could be dirt poor and I would still be thrilled to have a baby with you. You're a good man. I keep telling you that, and wondering how I can make you believe me. I can't imagine you not being there for your child. You know what it's like to have been abandoned by your parents, and that's going to make you a really good father because you will never let that happen to your own children."

He lowered his head and rested his forehead against hers. "Thank you. I really hope you're right." Because he'd been worse than abandoned. He'd been used. Was still being used.

Smiling, she said, "Of course I'm right. I hope you can learn to deal with that, because I generally am. Just ask Lola."

"Okay. I just might do that. So what's the big idea you've got?"

"C'mon. I'm going to fix us some breakfast and then I'll tell you all about it."

Mandy had eggs and toast ready in just a few minutes. She loaded their plates at the stove while Marc filled a couple of bowls with sliced melon and set the table. When she'd finished, Mandy carried the plates over, and sat across from him.

It felt sort of weird to be the only two here. They generally had a crowd at meals, but that was usually Lola's doing. She always planned on leftovers, but generally had extra bodies show up at the table and rarely had anything left over.

Marc gave Mandy time to eat most of her breakfast before he finally nailed her with that intense gaze of his. She took her last bite of egg, wiped her lips, and set her napkin aside. "Okay. I will tell you my idea. I met a lot of interesting people while I was working at the coffee shop. Lots of our customers stopped in almost every day. One of them is a really interesting man who came by around mid-morning every few days and would get a double-shot espresso and a m.u.f.fin.

"I used to tease him about his wake-up coffee, and he said he thought of it as his 'keep awake coffee,' because that's what his wife called it. His name is Alden Chung. Turns out he's a hypnotherapist, and he has an office not far from the shop. One day when it was really slow, I asked him about hypnotherapy, and he was really forthcoming about what he can do and how he uses it in his practice."

Marc steepled his fingers beneath his chin and shrugged. "So how does this very interesting man who hypnotizes people affect me?"

"He does a couple of things that might apply. He told me once that he can help people interpret their dreams, but he said that it's sometimes part of a therapy they call 'age regression.' Essentially, he takes you back in your memories to uncover things your conscious mind has forgotten. He told me we don't really forget things, we just don't have the ability to retrieve them consciously. The hypnotherapist helps the client recover those memories that are lost."

Marc shrugged. Clearly she hadn't convinced him. "Is it real?" He was shaking his head and smiling, but at least he didn't look totally shocked. "When I think of hypnotism, I get the visual of those old cartoons with a magician swinging a ticking gold watch in front of a guy; you know, making some poor shmuck sing or cluck like a chicken. Guess I a.s.sociate it with stage magic."

"It's a lot more than that. One time when he was in, I'd lost my cell phone and I asked him if he could help me find it. I was just teasing, but the place was empty so Dr. Chung hypnotized me-he said I was barely under, but he asked me to walk through my paces to when I remembered having it last. I found it. Turns out I'd carried it out in back to look at some of the pruning Ben had done, and I'd set it down on the back steps to help Lola move a heavy flower pot. When I was hypnotized, I vividly recalled setting it down and actually reminding myself not to forget where I put it. Which, of course, is exactly what I did."

Marc still looked a bit dubious. Then he reached for her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. "Not to put down your experience, but strangling a woman until she's either dead or unconscious is a little more than a lost phone."

She rolled her eyes. "I know. I just wanted to let you know that it's not scary to be hypnotized."

He laughed. "And for that, I thank you. I'm not sure it's real, though. I guess I keep thinking it's some kind of scam, but if you'll promise to go with me and stay with me, I'll make an appointment with him. Will you do that?"

"Of course I will. And I can't imagine sending you to do something like this on your own. I want to be there with you, Marc. It's not at all scary, though. At least the process isn't."

She squeezed his hand. "I can't promise what it will feel like, to unravel the story behind your nightmares, but I will be there. And if it's the worst possible thing you can imagine, I will still be there." She stood and grabbed her plate and coffee cup. "That's what friends do. I'm going to get the dishes done, but first I'll go find his card. You can call and leave a message. Maybe even set up an appointment."

She went back to her room and found the card stuck to her bulletin board. "Here," she said, handing the card to Marc. "You'll probably get an answering machine. It is Sunday, after all."

"Thanks." He gave her a quick glance, then leaned over and kissed her.

She kissed him back, and then held up her own phone. "I've got a voicemail from Lola. I'm going to call her while you make an appointment. Then you can help me with the dishes, okay?"

He nodded and walked into the front room. Mandy called Lola, and sat down to hear all about her sister's very first flight across the country.

But when it was Mandy's turn, she left out all the details of her night with Marc.

Marc ended the call and wondered just how ready he was to find out the truth. Dr. Alden Chung sounded like an okay guy, and he said he could see Marc this afternoon, that he worked weekends and took days off midweek. There was no reason not to trust Mandy's take on the man, and the conversation Marc had just had with him had been informative.

Besides, Mandy seemed to be a pretty good judge of character, and he loved her. He wished he could tell her how he felt, but it wouldn't be fair. He was only just figuring it out for himself. If Dr. Chung helped him decipher his dreams and they turned out to be every bit as bad as he thought they might be, he'd never be able to tell her.

He didn't want Mandy to have the added burden of his love if that was the case. Even so, he trusted her to stand by him as his friend, no matter what he learned.

If you couldn't trust the ones you loved, then who could you trust?

In his world, there were very few people. He'd trusted Bill Locke, his head of security at Reed Industries, and look where that had ended up. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had kidnapped and tried to kill Lola. It wasn't until later that they'd discovered Locke was working for the wife of a famous senator-the same senator recently indicted on a number of charges ranging from racketeering, money laundering, and obstruction of justice, to tax evasion. Ben and Lola were in Was.h.i.+ngton, DC now, giving preliminary testimony for the prosecution on the senator's case, since notes Ben had kept while stationed in Afghanistan had become evidence crucial to the government's case.

Marc had trusted his parents, and they'd both screwed him over. His father was a scam artist and an absolute jerk who appeared to have made it his life's goal to get money out of Marc, and once his mother had lost the custody case, she'd completely abandoned him. The one person he'd ever been able to count on, Jake Lowell, had done a job on him as well when he'd pled guilty to a crime he didn't commit out of some misguided loyalty to his older brother, Ben.

Except it was hard to think something was misguided when it was done out of loyalty and love, so Marc held no animosity toward Jake. Blood didn't matter; Jake was his brother.

That line of thought led him to wonder just who he could trust. Mandy, of course. Jake, Kaz, Ben, and Lola were the siblings he'd never had. He would trust any of them with his life. Theo Hadley, his business manager. They'd known each other for years now; Theo's kid sister had graduated from the same high school with Marc, and the two men had a good working relations.h.i.+p. He trusted Theo to keep his various businesses running and his money safe, and so far he hadn't been disappointed. Ted Robinson, the FBI agent they'd all gotten to know while trying to figure out why someone was after Ben. Definitely him. Ted was good people.

And that was about it-a pretty short list. Short, but comforting. He wasn't alone. He stared at the business card with Dr. Alden Chung, licensed psychologist and certified hypnotherapist's address on it, and went in search of Mandy. They needed to get moving if he was going to make that appointment.

CHAPTER 4.

"No wonder he's a regular customer. His office is really close to the coffee shop." Marc's arm slipped around her waist as they walked by the place where she'd worked for the past seven years.

"Was." Mandy stared at the closed sign on the door. "He was a regular customer. I wonder if he knows it's closed for good? There's no other place nearby that sells good coffee."

Forget poor Dr. Chung. She wished she had some idea what she was going to do now. So far? Not a clue. It wasn't like there was a huge shortage of baristas in San Francisco. The job didn't pay nearly enough, but there always seemed to be plenty of people willing to do it.

Marc didn't say anything. She knew he was apprehensive about the appointment. She was, as well. Worried for Marc and what he might learn today. It could be anything, but she was positive he wouldn't discover he'd murdered anyone.

"This way." He pushed open a door and they took the stairs to the second floor. Dr. Chung's office was the first door past the stairwell. There was an open sign in the frosted window, and they stepped through into a small office with a front desk but no receptionist. A small bra.s.s gong on the desk had a note that said to ring for Dr. Chung. Marc tapped the gong with a tiny bra.s.s hammer on the plate beside it.

The sound was such a pure note that Mandy stood perfectly still so as not to miss the final tone as it gently faded away. When she glanced at Marc, she realized both of them were smiling.

Squeezing his hand, she whispered, "If he's as good as his gong, this will be a successful visit."

Marc barely bit back a snort as the door beside the desk opened.

The middle-aged Asian man stepped into the room and focused on Mandy first. "Mandy! I had no idea you were the one Mr. Reed mentioned. Welcome. And you must be Mr. Reed. I'm Alden Chung. It's a pleasure to meet you." He shook hands with Marc and smiled at Mandy.

"Now, before we begin, what happened to the coffee shop? I went by this morning as I always do and it's closed. Will it be open tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid not." When his shoulders slumped, Mandy could only shrug. "I went to work yesterday and the boss was there ahead of me. She gave me a final paycheck and essentially told me not to let the door hit me on the a.s.s on my way out. Said the new store near Union Square is doing so well that she decided to close this one. No warning, nothing."

"I'm sorry. That's not a good way to end an employer-employee relations.h.i.+p. It's sad the way this old neighborhood is changing. I'm going to miss the shop. I'll miss you, too, Mandy. You have always been a bright spot in my morning. I wish you luck in finding a new position."

He smiled and turned to focus on Marc. "Now," he said, with a quick glance at Mandy, "Mr. Reed asked that you be present during our session. I need to be certain you're all right with that. I don't want you to be uncomfortable should anything highly personal come to light. Will you be able to sit quietly and listen without judgment, not partic.i.p.ating unless you are specifically requested to do so?"

She glanced at Marc. "Are you okay with me hearing anything you might say, Marc? Is that all right?"

He took her hand and squeezed it. "There's nothing you don't know already, and we both want to find out what I might know. I have no secrets from you, Mandy. Nor do I want to keep any."

Mandy smiled. "Looks like we're good to go, Dr. Chung."

"Excellent. And, in case I didn't explain my credentials when you called, I'm a licensed psychologist as well as a board-certified hypnotherapist."

Marc leaned close to Mandy and, in a stage whisper said, "I think that means he knows what he's doing."

Dr. Chung laughed. "One can only hope." Then he opened the door and waved them both into a small but beautifully furnished office. Forest green walls with natural wood trim, dark brown leather furniture-a couch, a recliner, and a matching office chair on wheels in front of the therapist's desk-set off by a large turquoise ceramic pot of live bamboo growing beneath a light in one corner. Shades darkened the one large window in the room. There were a few framed diplomas and certificates on one wall along with a photo of Dr. Chung with people Mandy figured must be his family-an attractive woman and two teenaged children.

Everything about the office was aesthetically pleasing, designed to put a person at ease. Mandy glanced at Marc. He looked outwardly calm, but she sensed the tension seething just beneath the surface. It was time to get him parked and on to business.

She'd quickly learned that Marcus Reed wasn't a man who waited patiently for much of anything, which was why it had bothered her so much that he appeared to have limitless patience while waiting to show any interest in her. Now that she knew why he'd hesitated, Mandy realized she loved him even more. He'd been protecting her. Misguided, as far as she was concerned, but it had to mean he really did care for her.

Dr. Chung stood beside his desk. "Mr. Reed. Would you prefer to lie down on the sofa, sit in a recliner, or possibly sit on the sofa with Ms. Monroe beside you?"

"Sofa." Marc flashed her a nervous smile and tugged her hand. She'd never really seen him act nervous before. She squeezed his hand. He smiled, more relaxed this time, and squeezed hers and they both sat.

"Excellent." Chung took the office chair and then rolled it across the hardwood floor until he was in front of them. "With your permission, I'll record this session, Marc, and the recording will be yours to keep. I find that my clients are more comfortable when they can replay everything they've said and know that the words they recall are their own." When Marc agreed, Dr. Chung flipped on a recording device and spoke into it, giving the date, Marc's name and Mandy's as well.

Mandy sat quietly beside Marc, still holding his hand.

Then Dr. Chung returned his attention to the two of them. "Call me Alden," he said. "There's no need for formality. Are you comfortable with your given name?"

"I am. Marc works."

"Have you had hypnotherapy before?"

Marc shook his head. "No, sir. This is a first."

Alden smiled and clasped his hands in his lap. "Even better," he said. "Starting with a clean slate. To explain, hypnotherapy is the method used to take advantage of the mind and body connection to accomplish certain goals, or, as in your case, to uncover memories long buried. The therapist-that would be me-helps you achieve an altered state of consciousness, a trance, which you will consciously allow yourself to enter. I'll be your guide. I'll help you tap into your mind's potential to find that state yourself. Once you're there, my job is to guide you in the hope of finding the answers you're searching for."

"I need specifics," Marc said. "All I know about hypnosis is what I remember from cartoons-swinging a gold watch in front of someone and then making him do stuff."

Alden laughed. "I hate to disappoint you. No gold watch. I'll speak to you, help you relax your muscles by virtue of the cadence of my voice, the speech patterns I've been trained to use. The goal is to relax your conscious mind in order to let your subconscious take over. The conscious mind forgets, the subconscious never. To get there, where you can tap into those memories, I'll try a few things to see what works best for you. Sometimes it's as simple as having a client count backwards or imagine a number or picture, something you like looking at."

"Mandy." Marc was smiling when he added, "Stay right there."

She laughed.

Alden nodded. "Exactly. Think of something pleasant, or an image you can focus on. Probably not Mandy, because I have a feeling that might push other parts of your brain to the forefront. And I'm not talking about the one between your ears."

Mandy squeezed Marc's hand. "The man already knows you."

"Ya think?" Marc smiled at her but then focused once again on the therapist.

The hypnotherapist smiled, but then he got very serious. Mandy could easily picture him in front of a cla.s.s of students when he said, "There's an important point I want to make-you never can be made to do something in hypnosis that is inconsistent with your beliefs. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, you can bring yourself out of the trance. Now, we're going to be working with the subconscious mind, so we'll rely on what we call ideomotor signals where you'll tap into your subconscious and decide a specific finger to mean yes, another to mean no. We'll also establish a signal to indicate if you are uncomfortable with my questions or just don't want to answer, and by using signals, we can determine those things while you remain in hypnosis. I can't force you to answer something you don't want to talk about, but if it's the reason you're here, we'll need to set up some parameters. You mentioned you were hoping to retrieve memories. From childhood, or are you thinking of a more recent time?"

Marc exhaled and glanced at Mandy. "More recent, I think, though I can't rule anything out. Finding the time frame for the dreams I'm having will help me narrow down what I appear to be recalling."

He squeezed Mandy's hand. She glanced at him and then spoke to the therapist. "Alden? Would it help if you knew what Marc's trying to find out? Would that help you direct your questions?"

"It could, though I don't want to lead you in a predetermined direction. Can you tell me what you hope to learn without too many specifics?"

Marc stared at him for what felt like a very long time, but Mandy knew the moment he came to his decision. He glanced her way before speaking to Alden. "My reoccurring dream is a violent one. I need to learn the ident.i.ty of the man who might have murdered a woman. I don't know when it happened or who she was, but somehow I know I'm involved. I need to find out if my dreams are telling me the truth, or totally confusing the issue."

"Fair enough. Let's try a simple session this first time. See how difficult or easy it is for you to reach a state of altered consciousness. We might not even get into the dream this time, or we could find all the answers you're hoping for. Honestly?" He chuckled. "Sometimes it's a lot like life-an absolute c.r.a.pshoot."

Marc shrugged and took a quick look at Mandy. "You'll be fine," she said. "I'll be right here with you." She was surprised when he visibly relaxed, as if that was all he needed to hear.

"What do I do?"

"Get comfortable." Alden adjusted his position in his own chair and waited while Marc settled into a spot on the sofa. He didn't let go of Mandy's hand.

"Now, I want you to close your eyes and think of a number. Just one. Concentrate on the shape of it, the color as you see it, what it makes you feel. Does this number have a particular meaning for you?"

Mandy had to force herself to concentrate on Marc, not on Alden's voice. His rich baritone seemed to s.h.i.+ver over her nerve endings, made her want to fall into the sound of his words as much as what he was saying.

She watched Marc, wondered what he was thinking. The man was undeniably brilliant. He was thirty-five years old with only a few months of college education, yet his net worth was already in excess of seventy-five million dollars, all on the basis of the software he'd developed and his business ac.u.men in investing his original earnings. His mind fascinated her. Beyond his intelligence, it was the way he still cared so deeply about his friends, even while he carried this horrible burden. She hoped Alden Chung could help him. Wished she could help him, somehow ease the load.

Alden continued to speak, but Mandy knew the moment Marc went into a trance. It hadn't taken long at all before his grip on her hand relaxed and he settled against the pillow-soft back of the sofa.

Dr. Chung stopped speaking and studied Marc for a moment. Then he nodded as if to himself, and said, "Marc? I want your subconscious to choose a finger to indicate yes. Show me which one means yes with a small movement."

Marc's right forefinger tapped the arm of the sofa.

"Good. That's very good. What finger would you like to use to signify no?"

Marc's middle finger tapped the sofa.

"Excellent, Marc. Very good. Now, if you become uncomfortable with my questions and want me to stop, I'll need a signal from you, maybe..."