“I so want to end this discussion.”

“Think about all we missed. Think about Nichol learning to crawl and walk. Think about her first word. Don’t close your mind to having another baby. Please don’t say no, say you’ll—”

Tony stopped her words with a kiss. “I’ll think about it, but know your safety is number one. Will you at least agree with that?”

Claire smiled. “I agree. I also think that since we know it can’t happen yet, we should practice. We got lucky with Nichol, but who knows… this baby may take a lot of trying.”

Closing his eyes, Tony shook his head. “Yes, Mrs. Rawlings, always the master negotiator.”

“Well, you know what they say about practice?”

Tony backed Claire toward the bed. Once her knees buckled, she gazed up at him. “My dear, I’ll practice as much as you desire, but I’ve told you before that I will not survive without you.” He ran his fingers through her long, dark hair, fanning it around her face. “You are my everything. All of these plans must meet the doctor’s approval. If they don’t, the answer is unequivocally no.”

Claire tilted her head and reached for his hand. “So you’d cut me off?”

His devilish grin returned as the fire from across the room reflected in his sultry gaze. “I’ve made our fortune with negotiations. I hope you don’t think I’m that easy to manipulate.”

Leaning back, Claire untied her robe and allowed it to fall from her shoulders. Scooting back on the bed, she looked up at him through her lashes and pushed out her lower lip. “That’s all right. If you don’t want to practice…”

Within seconds, Tony was crawling toward her, covering her body with his. “I didn’t say that. By all means, Mrs. Rawlings, let’s work on our technique.”

Part of the healing process is sharing with other people who care.

—Jerry Cantrell

TONY SAT ACROSS the desk from Dr. Brown with Claire’s hand in his. It wasn’t the first time they’d been in her office together; however, it was the first time they’d jointly had such a personal conversation with the good doctor. Fortunately or unfortunately, Tony had become quite adept at speaking with therapists and doctors. He knew how each one of his words as well as the inflection of his voice was dissected and scrutinized. Maybe scrutinized held too negative of a connotation; perhaps analyzed was a better description.

Nevertheless, as they sat across from the attractive blonde psychiatrist, Tony couldn’t help but do the same. He analyzed each word she said as well as her nonverbal responses. This ability didn’t begin with his induction into the world of psychoanalysis: it was what he’d done his entire life, how he’d made Rawlings Industries into an international conglomerate. Even with technology and the modernization of video and web conferences, Anthony Rawlings would watch and listen to his associates as well as his business adversaries. Many times it wasn’t what was said that was vital to negotiations, it was what wasn’t said.

“I understand your concern, Anthony. Over the past few months we’ve completely eliminated the anti-psychotic medications, and it appears to be without incident. As you’re aware, Claire’s still on a less potent anti-anxiety medication… two medications,” Dr. Brown corrected as she glanced at the computer screen only she was privy to see.

“Without incident?” Tony asked. “What were you expecting?”

“We don’t know what to expect. Each patient is unique.” Turning her gaze to Claire, she asked, “Claire, we discussed this the other day, but please tell me if anything has changed. Are you noticing any side effects from the medication changes?”

“I’m noticing good side effects. I’m beginning to feel more like myself. I don’t feel as stuck in the middle.”

“What about your sleeping problems?” Tony asked. “Do you think that can be attributed to the medication changes?”

Dr. Brown looked from Tony to Claire. “What sleeping problems? You didn’t mention anything about that.”

Claire’s green eyes, boring holes through her husband, returned to Dr. Brown. “I’m not having sleeping problems. I wake up sometimes. That’s all.”

Tony knew Claire didn’t approve of his sharing; however, this was her health they were discussing and he wouldn’t compromise, not even for her. Steeling his shoulders, he continued, “And she has trouble going back to sleep. Sometimes at night she talks in her sleep. I can’t understand it, but whatever it is seems to be upsetting her.”

The doctor leaned forward. “Claire, this can’t work if you’re not honest with me. Are you having nightmares?”

Claire sat taller. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve had a few dreams I remember, but most of the time I don’t. I wake knowing that there was something going on, but I can’t remember particulars.”

“Whatever it is, it’s enough to have her awake for hours.”

“Tony! Stop,” Claire demanded. “I’m fine. Everyone dreams.”

Pressing his lips together he looked back across the desk to Dr. Brown.

“Yes, Claire,” the doctor began. “Everyone dreams. And to be totally forthright, dreaming is a positive outlet, if you will. Differentiating a dream from reality is the crucial distinction. I don’t like that the dreams agitate you. That makes me leery to make any further adjustments on your remaining medications.” Before Claire could refute her statement, Dr. Brown went on, “You need to be honest with yourself.”