Page 73 of Playing With Fire
Monica Shaeffer. 36-year-old female. Recent onset of migraines. Social drinker. Non-smoker. Mother of two. Recently widowed. Family history of meningiomas. No scans.
I slip into my lab coat and knock on her door.
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Hartley.”
The woman gives me a tight smile and something about her face is familiar.
“I see you’ve had a sudden onset of migraines?” I repeat from her chart as a way to get her to divulge more detail.
I’m completely unprepared for her to say, “I lied. I’m not having migraines.”
Taken aback, I cock my head to the side. “Okay, what brings you in today?”
“My brother,” she replies with a firm tone.
“Is he concerned for your health?” I ask, trying to figure out where she’s going with this.
“Actually, he’s concerned with yours.” Before I can ask any follow up questions she says, “I’m Hudson Goddorah’s sister.” I exhale harshly and practically fall onto the rolling stool in the room. While I’m looking for my voice, Monica continues. “I’m sorry for ambushing you like this, but Hud’s going crazy.” Tears well in my eyes and I’m not sure if I’m crying because I’m so relieved to hear his name or because I hate making him worry. “Just so you know, I’m not really in favor of this. Your husband was the attorney of the man who killed my husband in a drunk driving accident. Jason Reed got off on a technicality while I had to bury my husband and hold it together for our kids. I still haven’t come to terms with his death, and your husband denied me justice.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Hudson didn’t tell me,” I whisper in horror.
Gregor is always so sure he’s defending the right side, but more and more, I’m convinced he and I don’t agree about which side the right one actually is.
“Hud didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you to think his feelings for you were rooted in revenge,” she states matter-of-factly.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve come to realize my husband isn’t the man I thought he was when I married him,” I offer.
Monica barely contains her eye roll. “I’d hope not, considering you’re running around with my brother while still married to Gregor. Hudson means as much to me as my kids do, and he deserves better than to be treated like some dirty little secret,” she says, clearly needing to get this off her chest.
“That was never my intention,” I defend myself weakly.
“Well, while Hud’s feelings for you aren’t rooted in revenge, mine are, and I’m happy to help you leave your husband as long as you swear on your daughter’s life that you won’t screw my brother over. Hudson does everything for everyone around him, including me, and he’s finally decided to take something for himself. While I don’t love it, the thing he’s decided to take is you, and I plan to see that he gets what he wants.”
I find myself nodding. “I swear I won’t hurt him.” I confess to the email I sent to his job to try and have his route switched so Gregor wouldn’t have access to him. “I don’t know if I made things worse or better, but I couldn’t do nothing. My husband threatened to ruin him and Greg doesn’t make idle threats.”
“I’m well aware, Dr. Hartley.” Monica reaches into her purse and pulls her cell phone out handing it to me. I take it slowly as she explains, “Hudson wanted me to give this to you. It’s a prepaid phone. He needs to talk to you. I’ve never seen him like this. Just please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t let Gregor find this and don’t text on it. Calls only.”
My heart is racing a hundred miles an hour as I nod again.
“Here’s the contact info for the top three divorce lawyers in our county. You need to hire all three of them…today.”
“Three? Why?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Because if they work for you, theycan’twork for Gregor.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“I work for the D.A.’s office. I’m also assigned to Gregor’s current case and I’m going to assume there’s no love lost when I figure out a way to take him down?”
I don’t fully know what she means, but instead of asking, I just shake my head.
No.There’s no love lost because it’s all gone already.
I practically run to my car after work. Once inside, I can’t dial Hudson’s number fast enough.
“Oh, thank God,” he breathes. At the sound of his voice, I break down.
“I’m so sorry,” I sob, overwhelmed with how much I’ve messed up.
