Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

raised its head and jumped back when it saw me. All six animals disappeared into the shadows beneath the trees.

Chapter Seven
    Theo looked stunned. He stared at me across the wrought iron patio table. His cats, Helen and Sophia, lay limp on the sun-warmed bricks at our feet, enjoying one of the first summery days of the year.
    “How did you arrive at such an idea?” he asked.
    “It makes sense.” I’d thought so, anyway, until I’d said it aloud.
    “Is it what you want to believe?” 
    “What I want to believe is beside the point! God, Theo, if you only knew how hard it is for me to even think about such a thing. But it fits, doesn’t it?”
    I pushed my iced tea glass aside and leaned forward, elbows on the tabletop. “Look, you never really knew him. You didn’t see what their marriage was like or what kind of father he was. Isn’t it possible he—” A wave of revulsion stopped me for a moment. “—he did something to me, and I’ve repressed the memories? Plenty of people say it’s happened to them.”
    Theo’s gaze roamed distractedly over the pyracantha espaliered to the high brick garden walls. The intense perfume of the plant’s tiny white flowers drifted on the air.
    “Tell me this,” he said at last. “Do you have sexual problems? Are you frigid? Afraid of sex? Do you dislike it?”
    Surprised by the intimate questions and his challenging tone, I drew back and folded my arms. “No. I don’t have any problems with the physical side of it.”
    His thick white eyebrows jumped, his eyes widened. “Do you have problems with the emotional side? Forming attachments, making commitments?”
    “I didn’t mean that.” It came out too sharp and loud.
    Theo’s voice was gentle. “I’m trying to help you sort this out. I’m not trying to hurt you or embarrass you or trick you into saying things you don’t mean.”
    I took a deep breath and released it. “I know.” He was waiting for an answer to his question, and I had to give one. I’d started this, after all. “If I met somebody I could trust—and love, of course—I could make a commitment.”
    He studied me for a moment, making me distinctly uncomfortable. “I notice you mentioned trust first,” he said. “Have you never been involved with a man you felt you could trust?”
    I shrugged, trying to appear casual, trying hard to keep Luke out of my thoughts. “I haven’t had any long-term relationships. When have I had time? Besides—” I laughed. “It’s not easy finding somebody who’d live up to Mother’s standards.”
    I instantly regretted saying that, and expected Theo to pounce on it. But he said, “The last time I saw you, you told me you had a new man in your life. How is that working out?”
    I shifted in my seat and watched a sparrow hop along the top of the brick wall. “It’s just a casual thing.”
    “And you want to keep it that way?”
    “Yes,” I said firmly. “For a lot of reasons.”
    “I see.” Again he paused to give me an appraising look. “Have you had a great many sexual partners? Would you consider yourself promiscuous?”
    “No, Theo. For heaven’s sake.”
    Relief showed in his quick smile. “I didn’t think so. Of course these things can be quite complicated, and I’m wary of oversimplifying, but sexual abuse—incest—leaves a mark, Rachel. One doesn’t come out of it unscarred.”
    “Look at me,” I cried, throwing out my arms and laughing helplessly. “I am scarred. If losing a chunk of my memory isn’t a sign of trouble, I don’t know what is.”
    He frowned, and took a moment to answer. “Still,” he said, “other explanations are far more reasonable, in my opinion.”
    Despite his words, I detected a strong undertone of doubt in his voice. He did believe it was possible that my father had sexually abused me. A sudden rush of bile to my throat made me cover my mouth and swallow hard. Both the cats had raised their heads, and two pairs of bright blue eyes were fastened on me, waiting for another exclamation or expansive gesture.
    If this awful thing was true, I thought, Mother had carried the burden of it alone for two decades.
    “Perhaps the real explanation,” Theo went on, “is simply that your mother is a complex woman who has found it easier to bury all of the past, good and bad, rather than be constantly reminded of the bad along with the good. I saw her do exactly that when she was my student. She made her family into objects of study, distanced herself