Page 24 of Healed Heart
“I have to figure things out.”I squeeze her hand.“It’s something I need to do on my own.”
“But you don’t have to face it alone,” she says.“I’m here, and I love you.I want to help.”
She looks at me with such resolve that for a moment I’m tempted to take her along this dark journey.But reality comes crashing down.
I swing my legs off the side of the bed onto the floor, turning my back to her.“I don’t want to drag you into this mess.It’s not your burden to bear.”
“You’re wrong.”She sits up, rubs my shoulders from behind.“When we said we loved each other, that meant we would carry each other’s burdens too.”
“God, you’re sweet.”I twist my neck to meet her eyes.“So special.”I look back to the floor.“And fuck it all, you deserve better than me.”
“I disagree.”
I rub my forehead.“Don’t you understand?I’ve fucked everything up.I can’t go to Switzerland because…I just found something out.”
“The HR?—”
“It has nothing to do with HR,” I say, exasperated.“My wife killed herself, Angie.She couldn’t deal with the loss of our daughter.And she blamed me, though she couldn’t ever bring herself to say it.If only she could have, maybe she’d have been able to heal.But the damned psychiatrist?—”
I stop.
Is now really the time to tell Angie what I think of her chosen career path?
Angie clears her throat.“What about the psychiatrist?”
I swallow, squeeze my eyes shut.“She couldn’t help Lindsay.She couldn’t help me either, but I’m the least of my worries.Lindsay is gone because?—”
Then I stop.
I’m repeating the same old line that I’ve known for so long.But Lindsay maynothave killed herself.
Perhaps the therapydidhelp her.Dr.Morgan always said each patient has his or her own timeline when it comes to healing.
Maybe Lindsay just wasn’t ready to take the next step yet.
And someone else took it for her.
“Because why?”Angie asks.
“Because… She’s gone because it might not have been her choice to end her life after all,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
Angie’s eyes widen, her mouth opening and closing without sound.Silence looms between us, so thick and heavy that it’s suffocating.
“Jason,” she finally says, “are you saying that you think someonekilledLindsay?”
I run my fingers through my hair.I don’t want to believe it myself.Because if it’s true…
“I don’t know, Angie, but there are things that don’t add up.The suicide note, for one.I never looked at it—I was scared to.It was her final message to me.After I read it, there would be nothing left from her.But just this morning, before the HR folks busted into my office, I finally opened it.And I read it.”
She lays a hand on my arm.“That must have been really painful for you, Jason.”
I shake my head.“You don’t understand.The note… She didn’t write it.It wasn’t in her handwriting.”
Angie looks at me, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and confusion.“How can you be sure it wasn’t in her handwriting?”
I hold back a wave of emotion.“I know what my wife’s handwriting looks like.It’s been three years, but I could tell in an instant that someone else had written the note.”My lip trembles.“And if I’d only had the gall to read it then, I could have looked into it.Brought the fucker who did this to justice.Now he’s probably off the grid somewhere, and we’ll never find him.The case has had three years to grow cold.But I couldn’t do it, Angie.”
I bury my face in my hands, willing myself not to sob in front of her.
