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She couldn't see their faces. She could never see their faces. They wore ski masks that only showed the area around their eyes. They were following her after she finished her shift at the hospital.

She walked a little faster and they walked faster. She glanced back over her shoulder. A terrified chill crept up her spine. She began to run towards her car. She saw it at the edge of the parking deck. She took out her keys.

The two men began to run after her. She made a noise in the back of her throat that was half a scream and half a startled yelp. They were coming after her. She didn't believe they were coming after her. She looked for a weapon and realized that she left her purse in the doctor's lounge.

If she could just make it to her car. She panted and ran wildly for the blue sedan. If she could just make it to her car. She could get inside and lock all the doors. Even if they tried to get in, she could start the car and drive away. She'd report it to hospital security. No one should have to fear for their lives. If she could just make it to her car.

The first man reached her as she put her hand on the door. She clung tenaciously to the handle but he was stronger. He ripped her hand from the door. She heard her keys fall on the pavement beside her.

She looked up into her attacker's faces. "What do you want?"

"Whadda you got?"

"I have my rings and a watch." She felt inside the pocket of her slacks. Her fingers touched her credit card that she didn't put away after dinner that night. "I have my credit card."

"That's a start," the second man said but he didn't back away.

She stripped off her gold chain, ring, and watch. She gave them her credit card. They put her possessions in the pockets of their dirty jeans. Please God let them leave me alone.

"What else?"

"That's all I have. I left my purse inside. I have my car." She reached for her keys. She could see them shining on the concrete in the glow of the dim overhead light.

The first man put his foot down on her hand, stopping her movement. Then he hit her hard across the mouth and she fell backwards.

"Take the car." She tasted blood in her mouth. She nodded towards the keys on the ground. "It has a full tank of gas."

The second man hit her, close to the eye. She was terrified up to that point. Suddenly, cold anger spread through her. She used her knee, bringing it hard and deep into his groin. It felt satisfyingly soft and painful. He went down to his knees.

Before she could move, the first man cuffed her on the side of the head. Her head snapped back on her neck. He grabbed her by her shirtfront before she fell back out of his reach.

She heard the sound of material ripping. She looked down and realized that the man ripped her shirt. Her skin looked very pale in the overhead lights. The red lace bra she wore wavered before her eyes. "What do you want?" Her lip was already swollen. She could barely form the words.

"You should'a stayed in your place, bitch," the first man told her with a short laugh. "We're gonna show you where that is."

They pushed her down on the cold concrete between the cars and stuffed a glove in her mouth. It smelled of paint or turpentine. They ripped her clothes from her and hit her until she stopped fighting. The first man shoved his penis inside of her. What little food she had in her stomach rose into her mouth. She realized with sudden clarity that she might die in that parking deck. She couldn't let that happen.

The second man recovered from her attack and joined his friend. She tried to lie quietly and separate her mind from the reality of the two men grunting over her. They were brutally using her body but if she could survive, she could go on. What they were doing to her wouldn't kill her. They couldn't penetrate who she was inside. She moaned painfully beneath the glove in her mouth and prayed that they'd finish.

Finally, they were done. She sat up, thinking they were gone. She glanced around herself. Her body was racked with pain but she was still alive. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut from their blows.

But they weren't done with her yet. She tried to get away from them but they kept hitting her. One of the men held her hands on the concrete while the other smashed her fingers with something hard. She felt the tissue rip while she screamed behind the glove trapped in her teeth. She heard her ribs crack as they continued to pound her with their fists but she couldn't feel anything. It was a curiously light sensation. Like she was being lifted from her body and moved away. There was no pain. No fear.

Her face touched the cold concrete. Then she drifted into that void. Her spirit ran away from what was happening to her.

She saw a light move in front of her eyes. She tried to fight her way back to consciousness but she was so tired. She tried to open her eyes. One of them was swollen completely shut. The other, barely open a slit. She saw a man's face, concerned and frightened. She was moving.

"We're going to take care of you," he said. "No one's going to hurt you. Just hang in there. You're going to live.

Chapter One

Jenny woke up. She was dreaming again. She always woke up at that point. The man flashed the light in her eyes and told her that she was going to live. Then she woke up. She was sweating and panting. Her heart was racing.

But it wasn't a dream. She looked at her hands in the nightlight's soft glow. They looked normal in the half-light. Like she could use them the way she always used them before that night. Like her fingers weren't bent and useless.

"Darling?" Peter's cautious, concerned voice came to her from the shadows of the room. "I thought I heard you cry out. Are you all right?"

"Sorry to wake you," she replied hoarsely.

"Was it the same dream again?" He touched her shoulder.

She shuddered. "I wish to God it was a dream." She stood up slowly and stripped off her sweat-dampened nightgown. Shivering in the air conditioning, she hurried to find a replacement from her drawer.

"How's the therapy going on your hands?"

"About as well as can be expected," she answered. "There's only so much they can do. When did you get home?"

"About an hour ago. The conference went well, I think. Jennifer?"

"Don't say it, please." She sat down beside him on the bed again and leaned her head heavily in her hands. "I stopped going to the psychologist because it wasn't helping."

"The dreams haven't stopped."

"I know, Peter. But they aren't going to go away because Susan and I sit and talk about my childhood for hours."

"She's the expert. Why don't you let her decide what's best?"

She sighed. "Experts don't always have the answers. Look at me. I'm an expert. I don't have all the answers."

"Jennifer!" He reached for her. She drew back. He frowned and put his hand at his side. "It's been almost a year."

A long, nightmare of a year. "I know."

He stood up and she jumped nervously. He took a deep breath and left her alone. "We need to talk. I'm not leaving for Houston until tomorrow afternoon. I'll wake you in the morning."

"All right."

"I love you."

"Thanks," she replied absently. "I love you, too."

* * *

She was driving through the afternoon sunlight on her way home from dropping Peter at the airport. They talked before he left. It didn't matter. What could she say? I'll be different when you get back. I won't be afraid for you to touch me.

It was a lie they both avoided. He didn't ask her for any assurances. She didn't give any. It was simple. She was so tired of fighting. With Peter and herself. Some days, she wished there was a magic pill she could swallow that would make her forget everything. She loved Peter. As much as she was capable of loving anyone at that moment. He said that he loved her. He certainly proved it since the attack. What more could she ask of him?

That was part of the problem. She didn't understand why he still loved her. She wasn't the same person anymore. She would never be the same again. The life they planned together was gone forever. She died that day when those men attacked her and crippled her hands. She kept walking around because she was too stubborn to know when to give up. She could hear her father's voice telling her that when she was a child. "You're so stubborn, Jenny! Why can't you just once give in?"

She didn't realize where she was until she looked up. The familiar scenery caught her attention. She was back in Boughten, where she first started. She was sitting in her car in front of her father's house. The small, white clapboard structure sagged wearily to the right. Its roof was too worn to see that the shingles were once red. She remembered when those shingles were put up. It was the year after her mother died.

Jenny hadn't been back to the old neighborhood since she became a resident at the hospital. She went home one Sunday for dinner with her family. Her sister, Sam, accused her of being ashamed of her background. Jenny retaliated that she had nothing to be proud of. A drunk brought her up in a slum. The fight that followed was ugly.

Ten years! It was ten years! It didn't seem that long. She received a birthday and Christmas card from her family members once a year. She reciprocated. But she stayed away. She didn't want people from her new life to know where she was raised. In her quest for being the top of her profession, she didn't think much about what she left behind. She didn't think about anything. Except being the best.

She didn't know why she was there now. Except that suddenly, there was no best. There was nothing to strive for. Nothing to achieve. She had it all. Everything she worked for. Everything she wanted. In a few hours, she lost it all. She refused to cry for that loss. She refused to bend for it. She wanted her old life back. She knew she could never have it again.

"Jenny?" A face smiled at her through the window. The man had dark, curly hair and deep blue eyes.

"Kyle?" Despite the years, she knew his face as well as she knew her own.

He laughed when she mouthed his name through the glass. "What are you doing here? I mean...never mind. Why don't you come inside?" He started to open her car door but it was locked. He mimed opening her window and smiled his crooked smile. "Are you okay? Are you coming in?"

Was she going in? What was she doing here?

She was driving home after taking Peter to the airport. When she looked up, she was parked outside her father's house. She was thinking about her father. His was the first familiar face she saw after regaining consciousness at the hospital. She didn't know how he found out she was hurt or how he was able to get there so quickly. It was the only time after the attack that she cried.

She used the button to roll down the window. Cool, dry air met the warm, moist Atlanta afternoon air. "Hello, Kyle."

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to speak to me. Dad's home. Come on inside. We've all wondered how you were since you went home from the hospital."

"I'm fine." It was her standard reply to that question. "How are you?"

"Good! I'm good! Come inside, Jenny. Let's not stand out here like trailer trash, talking in the street."

"All right." She rolled up the window and panicked. She wanted to leave. Pull away and leave him staring after her, wondering what happened. She didn't want to talk to Kyle or her father. They had nothing to say to each other after all that time. She wasn't sure they ever had anything to say to each other. She was so different than anyone else in her family.

She looked at him smiling at her. He was standing with his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans. His hair was thick and curly, the color and texture of her mother's hair. They were all blessed with it to some degree. He was heavy set and muscled from years of working construction in the city. His clothes were full of red dust and his boots were worn.

Kyle was two years older than her. When their mother died, it was Kyle who held her hand as they walked to her graveside service. Her father held Sam and Lou's hands. She always thought it was wonderful that it worked out that way. Kyle was so cool. He had posters on his walls and he was allowed to ride a mini bike through the alley. He joined the Army when he was eighteen. She hated him for it. When he was gone, she was alone. She was never close to Sam or Lou. Certainly not to her father.

Finally, she turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car. She locked it and put on the alarm. She stood awkwardly beside her brother. What now?

"I'm so glad to see you, Jenny." He enfolded her in his big, strong arms. "It's been so long. I've been worried about you. We all have."

"I'm fine." She almost choked on her own words of assurance. "Really, Kyle."

He looked at her closely as he held her away from him. "You're too thin. Are they working you too hard?"

"I'm not working at all," she answered lightly. "Are we going to go and see Dad or what?"

"You know, he called the hospital every day while you were there." They walked up the hill together with his big arm wrapped around her. "He would've called you at home but he didn't have the number."

"I know."

"Did they catch the guys who did it yet? Do the police have any leads?"

She shrugged. She promised Peter that she wouldn't talk about that part of the attack. He said it wasn't healthy. She talked to the police every other week or so but she mostly agreed with Peter. It didn't do any good to rehash it. It happened. She had to go on.

"Did you see their faces? Could you identify them?"

"No, Kyle! I didn't see their faces. People have asked me that question a thousand times. They wore masks. The police don't think they can find them from the clues they have." She took a deep breath and tried to get a grip on her emotions. "Sorry."

"That's okay," he said. "I can't imagine what it must be like for you."

"No one can. But it doesn't matter. It's over now."

He shook his head when they reached the railing at the stairs. "It's not over for you yet, honey. You're still in pain."

"Can we drop it, Kyle?" she requested. "I came to see Dad. Not unload my problems."

"Sure. I'm sorry. Let's go in. Dad will be happy to see you."

They walked past an assortment of bikes and garden hoses on the porch. The swing where she sat dreaming on warm summer evenings was still hanging. It needed a coat of paint like the rest of the house. There was a pair of pint sized roller blades near the door.

She opened the screen door and took a step into the kitchen. It was like walking back twenty years to when she was a child. The dark green linoleum was still on the floor. The same yellow wallpaper with the daisy print was on the walls. Nothing changed.

Kyle made her walk behind him until they reached the doorway into the living room. "Guess who I found lurking outside in her car?" He reached for her hand and pulled her into the room full of people. "Ta da!"

"Jenny!" Her father stood slowly. "I've thought about you so much since the hospital but I didn't know how to get in touch with you." He hugged her tightly.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, smothered in his arms. "I didn't realize."

"You had other things to think about," he sympathized. "I talked to Dr. Arnette when I was there. The nurse pointed me in his direction. He didn't seem to think you'd want to see me again after that first time."

Zeke Maxwell was a big man with a barrel chest and broad shoulders. He always worked hard with his hands and his back. His hair was thinner than she remembered. It had some gray in it. He had aged like the red tiles on the roof. But he was still intimidating. He looked down at her and his black-rimmed glasses slid down his nose a little.

"Peter was trying to protect me. Sometimes he's a little overprotective."

"Never mind that!" Her sister, Louise, pushed her way between them. "I haven't seen her in longer than anyone." Her eyes were wet with tears when she looked at her older sister. "Oh, Jenny! You look great! I'm so proud of you!"

Jenny thought her ribs would crack with Lou's extended hug. "I'm glad to see you, too." She patted her sister's rounded tummy. "When are you due?"

"Not until September. Oh God, I wish I'd brought little Zeke! I knew I should've brought him." Lou wiped tears from her eyes. "I've told him all about you. We rode by the hospital where you work and I showed him. Oh, God, Jenny! It's so good to see you!"

"Can you stay?" her father asked. "Let me get you some coffee. In fact, let's all have some coffee. I think Sam left some brownies here the other night."

"Oh God!" Lou started, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes got wide. "Sam is gonna be pissed that she wasn't here to see you!"

Jenny looked past her vivacious sister's head and saw another man in the room. He wasn't a member of her family but he was familiar to her. Where had she seen him before?

Kyle separated her from Lou. "Knock it off," he said to their kid sister. "She gets the idea."

"I'm going out to the car for the camera," Lou told them. "I want pictures."

"You carry a camera in the car with you?" Kyle was sidetracked by the idea. "What for?"

Lou's head snapped up defensively, sending her short curls bouncing. "There's money out there for the right picture, you know! TV shows pay a lot for pictures of UFO's and cops beating people."

"How could I forget?" Kyle demanded sarcastically. "I saw a UFO last week. Wish I had your camera with me!"

"Shut up!" Lou laughed even though she was pretending to be offended. "Never mind the camera then. I'm gonna go and help Dad. You want to come, Jenny?"

"No, she doesn't." Kyle shooed his sister away. "She wants to meet my friend."

The man who looked so familiar to Jenny stood up and walked towards them. His dark brown hair was still damp, as though he recently showered. His eyes, only a shade lighter, the color of coffee with cream, rested insolently on her face. "I was afraid I might get crushed if I got too close. All that love and warmth."

Jenny felt his gaze on her like a hot brand. He was making fun of the situation. And of her. "Jealous?"

"Hardly. The prodigal daughter returns. Run for the brownies and coffee!"

"Okay, you two," Kyle refereed. "Settle down. You're contemporaries. You should have a lot in common."

They stood like opponents facing each other in the boxing ring. She remembered his face from somewhere. And his voice was oddly familiar too.

"Riley, this is my little sister, Jenny. Jenny is twice the doctor you'll ever be and works uptown at a hospital that wouldn't let you in the back door. Jenny, this is Riley Thomas. Doctor Riley Thomas, who has all the bedside manner of a forklift. But he's good at keeping the gangs around here stitched up."

Riley didn't say anything. His gaze drifted down to her hands but he didn't reach out to take one.

Jenny knew where she saw his face and heard his voice. Pain and fear clutched at her heart. "You were there! I saw you!"

"What are you talking about?" Kyle stepped uneasily between his friend and his sister. "He was where?"

Her eyes were locked on Riley. She saw him that night. When he looked down at her hands, she remembered him. "You were at the hospital."

Kyle took a deep breath. "Damn! I thought you were about to say he was there when you were attacked!"

Riley ignored him, focused on Jenny. He took a deep breath too. "I wasn't at the hospital."

"What's up?" Lou came back into the room, drying her hands on a dishtowel.

Jenny's heart pounded in her chest. She was hot and cold. Lightheaded. "I have to go."

"What?" Lou wailed. "You just got here! It's been ten years! You can't go yet!"

"What's going on?" Zeke entered the ruckus.

"I-I have to go," Jenny repeated as she started towards the door. She had to get away.

Zeke put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Could we have a minute?" Riley requested of the group.

Zeke, Kyle, and Louise looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"I don't want to talk to you," Jenny mumbled, still trying to reach the door.

"You two know each other?" Kyle asked in disbelief.

Lou was crying. Zeke was getting angry. Jenny backed towards the door.

Riley caught her arm and whistled loudly through his teeth. They all got quiet. "Okay! If we could have a minute alone, I can clear this whole thing up!"

"I don't want to talk to you," Jenny maintained. "I have to go now."

Riley wouldn't let her go. "We need to talk. I won't let you leave this way."

"Let me go!" She struggled against him.

"Riley, I--" Zeke began, not liking the scared expression on Jenny's face.

"Please!" Riley implored. "Leave us alone for just a minute!"

Kyle took his father and sister into the kitchen and closed the door behind them. He gave Riley a look that spoke volumes between friends. Don't hurt my sister!

When the door was closed, Jenny jerked her arm away from him. "What do you want from me?"

"You need to sit down and take a few deep breaths. You can't drive like this. I don't pretend to know what you're going through but I know that look."

"What look?"

"You're scared and you're confused. Seeing me brought it all back for you, didn't it? You want to run away from the memory. From me because I brought it back to you."

Jenny wrapped her arms across her chest and looked away from him. "I can handle it."

"Is that what you call it? You need therapy. You can't handle something like this alone."

"I've had therapy," she assured him with quiet dignity. The moment of panic passed. She was herself again. "I'm fine."

"You remember me because I rode with you in the ambulance to the county hospital," he explained in a patient voice. "You had no ID. We signed you in as Jane Doe. I wasn't sure you'd ever regain consciousness. I know what they did to you."

"I remember." She stared at him in amazement. "You kept telling me that I was safe and that I had to hang in there."

He nodded. "That was me. I'm surprised you remember."

"I wasn't sure I did. Until I saw your face again tonight."

"I went back to the hospital the next day and you were gone. Someone identified you and they took you to Weller. That was when I found out that you were Kyle's sister. I sent your father to see you."

"Thanks." She drew in a shaky breath.

"I saw your face when I looked at your hands," he answered. "I've worked with victims of violent crime before. At my clinic, it's a fact of life."

"I'm sorry." She was ashamed that he saw her panic.

"Not necessary. If I went through what you've been through, I'd panic too."

"I've had therapy. I've worked with the police on the case. I-I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay." He changed the subject slightly. "They still don't know who did it?"

"No. They don't have much to go on. I can't tell them what either man looked like. They wore masks. They have semen and hair samples but they don't have anyone to match them to."

"How are your hands?" He touched them, casually examining them.

She gasped. "They're all right."

"I'll bet they hurt like hell." He looked at the twisted joints and fingers that would never be completely straight again.

She snatched her hands back from him and clutched them together. "No, they're fine."

He didn't believe her. "Are you still on meds for them?"

"No."

"But you're not using them either, right?"

"What would I do with them?" she demanded angrily. "I'll never be a surgeon again."

"Is that all there is?"

"As far as I'm concerned!"

The kitchen door opened. Jenny didn't realize how close she was standing to Riley. She was right up in his face! She took a step away from him, towards her brother.

Kyle noticed that Riley was angry and Jenny was breathing hard. "Brownies and coffee anyone?"

"I have to go," Riley told him. "I'll see you later."

"Okay." Kyle wished he knew what was going on. "Rally's Wednesday night."

"I'll be there." Riley slipped out the door without saying anything else to Jenny.

"Coffee?" Kyle asked his sister.

"Yes." She ignored Riley's retreating back. She was glad to see him go. He was pushy and arrogant. "Thanks."

"You had us going for a minute." Kyle stood aside so she could go into the kitchen.

"You did," Lou added. "We thought maybe Riley--"

"That's enough," Zeke told her firmly. "Sit down, Jenny. It's been too long."

They sat around the old, chrome-legged table where they did their homework when they were kids. Jenny didn't need to look to know that there was probably still gum on the bottom of the table. It was their favorite place to put it because their father didn't allow gum in the house. Rather than get caught, they put it under there and usually forgot about it.

"So, you knew Riley from the ambulance after the attack," Lou said when they were all drinking coffee.

Kyle frowned at his sister.

"What?" she asked innocently. "She lived here, too. She knows you can hear everything from any room in this house!"

"That doesn't mean we have to talk about it," Kyle reminded her. "You have a mouth like cable TV. Turn you on and anything could come out."

Zeke laughed. He couldn't help it. "Like cable TV, huh?"

Lou giggled. "It's not that funny."

Jenny smiled too.

"It wasn't," Kyle agreed. "But it's true."

"It's okay," Jenny told them. "It's been almost a year. I should be able to talk about it."

"But you don't," her father guessed, looking down his nose through his black rimmed spectacles at her. "And seeing Riley scared you."

Jenny sighed and circled the rim of her coffee cup with her finger. "I panicked. I don't know why. It happens to me sometimes. Sometimes I'm not sure where I am or what I'm doing. I fantasize about seeing the men who attacked me without their masks. My shrink says I'm not crazy. Just traumatized."

"It would be a blessing if you didn't remember any of it," Lou pronounced solemnly. "My God, Jenny! What can you gain by going over it in your mind?"

"I don't know," her sister said. "I keep thinking that there might be something to help the police. But no matter how hard I try, only bits and pieces come back to me."

"Maybe you're trying too hard," Kyle added. "Maybe if you relaxed for a while."

"How can I? How can I ever relax again? How can I ever feel safe again?" She accidentally hit the coffee cup with the side of her hand. Coffee ran down the table to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Her father got a towel from the counter. "I'll take care of it. Let's talk about something else for a while."

"You should come to the rally tomorrow night." Kyle started a new conversation.

"What rally?" Jenny cleaned coffee from her lap with the towel.

"It's to get the slum lords around here to clean up and do some maintenance on the houses everyone lives in."

"A rally isn't going to do that." Zeke didn't mince his words.

"It can't hurt," Kyle disagreed, "if it brings in the reporters and people see what's going on down here. It could change things."

"And no one gets hurt," Lou said. "I already told Mickey we're not going."

"Then we'll just wallow down here forever while the rest of Atlanta prospers," Kyle informed her bluntly. "We all have to care about what's going on to make a difference."

"Sam said she isn't going." Lou pouted.

"No, but Carlos is going to be there."

"What about you, Dad?" Lou asked her father.

Zeke took off his glasses and cleaned them before putting them back on his face. "I'm too old to protest anything except for social security not paying for my prescriptions. Which reminds me, Jenny. You should go down and take a look at Riley's clinic. We're pretty proud of it around here."

Jenny knew the area needed a clinic since she was in med school. A few people approached her about opening one when she finished her internship. She wasn't interested. She left Boughten behind her, set her eyes on bigger things. Not clinics for the poor. She already knew she wanted to specialize in the growing field of microsurgery. Her battle was with grants and financial aid. She worked two full time jobs and balanced her classes to get through school.

"That's wonderful," she replied. "I'd like to do that sometime."

"Kyle, you'll have to get Riley to give your sister the nickel tour."

"I'll talk to him Wednesday at the rally." Kyle brought the conversation back full circle. "How about it, Jenny? You, of all people, should want to take part in the rally."

"Why?" She set her coffee cup away from her. "I don't live here anymore."

There was silence around the table. Lou looked at her plate. Zeke cleaned his glasses again.

"No, you don't," Kyle agreed. "But you did live here. You know what it's like. It could be cleaned up and decent people could claim this area again. Then maybe people wouldn't see this as a dead end to dump bodies anymore."

Chapter Two

The sound of Lou's indrawn breath was painful. She took Jenny's hand. "Kyle! Talk about people not thinking before they talk!"

Kyle wasn't backing down. "I know what I said. Jenny was a victim. It didn't have anything to do with her growing up here. But it did have something to do with their choice of where to leave her. They know this is a garbage heap."

"That's enough!" Zeke knew his son had a tendency to get carried away with his passionate thirst for reclamation.

"I'm sorry, Jenny," Kyle apologized. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings. But it's the truth."

"Did anyone ever use the credit card they took from you, Jenny?" Zeke changed the subject again. "I heard the police talking about it at the hospital when I was there."

She shrugged. "No. They took it but the police couldn't find any trace of it. They think maybe the two men were afraid to use it because they thought I might die and they'd be charged with murder."

"It's a sad statement about our society," Zeke eulogized, "that it would be worse to murder a woman than what they did to you. And how do we know they didn't mean for you to die? Riley told me that you might've died if they hadn't found you that night."

"I don't know." She sat back in her chair and looked at her mangled hands. "I don't have any answers. I thought I knew so much. But I found out I don't know anything."

Her father was outraged. "How can you talk like that? You did it. You got out of here. You showed those people at Weller that you were the best! I heard them talking about you at the hospital. I know what they think about you."

"Thanks, Dad. But that's over now. Peter says I should take a teaching job. Those who can, do. Those who can't..."

"Peter doesn't know my little girl then. You'll be out there again, taking care of people. It would be a sin to put someone with your gifts into a school." He said the words like they were written in the Bible.

"I can never do surgery again."

"Then you'll find another way," he reiterated. "You always have. You'll come out on top. Wait and see. Give yourself some time."

She wished she still had the confidence in herself that he had in her. It was nice that he felt that way. But she knew it wasn't like that anymore. "I should go."

"Okay. It's getting late, I guess," her father agreed. "Will you come back?"

"Of course she will," Lou answered for her. "When Sam's here with Carly and Lisa."

"I'll come back," Jenny promised but she left without saying when.

Kyle walked her back to her car. The sun was setting in brilliant hues of gold, crimson and amethyst across the city skyline. His face was in sharp relief against the colors when he apologized again for what he said to her. She reassured him that she'd heard worse.

"There's just one more thing I think you should know." Kyle waited until she was in her car. "Your friend Peter asked Dad to leave the hospital. He told him that it was going to be traumatic enough for you to get better without seeing him."

Jenny thought about it. "He was probably upset because I started crying when I saw Dad."

"Look, I know we haven't been a close family, Jenny. But it was a little harsh for him to throw him out like that. Dad sat around for days wondering what was happening to you. He called the hospital every day. When you went home and he couldn't get in touch with you, he was devastated."

"I understand." Jenny thought Kyle was taking it a little too personally. "I think Peter was protecting me. It's been hard for him."

Kyle shrugged. "I thought you should know."

"Thanks."

"See you in another ten years?" He raised a dark eyebrow in inquiry.

She wrote down her address and phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Maybe not so long between visits this time. You could come and see me."

"We love you, Jenny." He took the information and shoved it into his pocket before she closed the door. "We're your family. Don't forget that."

"I won't."

It bothered her that they all had such poor opinions of Peter. She knew in her heart that he was only being protective of her when he asked her father to leave the hospital. It seemed harsh. But he was afraid. Just like her father was afraid. People said and did stupid things when they were afraid. She was the queen of stupid things lately.

It was the first time since the attack that she was out after dark. She drove through the late rush hour traffic, suppressing another panic attack. She watched the lights come on in the street, wishing she was home already.

She didn't mean to stay so long at her father's house. She didn't mean to go there at all, if she were really honest about it. She purposely put them all behind her ten years ago. It was a deliberate action not to visit the place where she grew up. It reminded her too much of her beginnings and the hand-to-mouth life they led after her mother died.

She didn't want to remember those things. She went to med school and reinvented herself. There was nothing left of the old Jennifer Maxwell that grew up on Beatty Street in Boughten. She was new and shining in her knowledge. She had a new life and new friends. At least she believed that was true.

Sitting at the same old kitchen table with her family tonight, she began to recall the good things about growing up there. The fun they had as children. The close bond she shared with Kyle, Lou and Sam. It all ended when Kyle went away to the Army. Nothing was the same after that. It wasn't that she blamed him. He was fighting his own battles with their father.

The cell phone rang. She answered it carefully as she drove the last few miles home.

"Jennifer?"

"Hello Susan." Jenny wasn't surprised to hear her therapist's voice on the other end of the line. "Did Peter call you?"

"He did." Dr. Susan Adams was a colleague at Weller. She was also Jenny's therapist after the attack. "But he was right to call me. He's concerned about you. So am I."

"I appreciate your concern," Jenny told her. "But I'm okay."

"Really? You didn't come to our last session. And you didn't reschedule."

"Therapy isn't helping. I have to find another way."

"How do you know it's not helping when you miss appointments?"

Jenny frowned. She didn't want to have this conversation. She didn't like explaining her actions and thoughts a hundred times a day. Being attacked opened her up to criticism from everyone who thought they knew what was best for her. She was sick of it. "I've been talking to you for nine months. I think if it was going to help it would have helped already."

"Define help, Dr. Maxwell. There are no easy answers. You know that. And you know you aren't well."

"I think there are answers. I'm just not finding them with you. There has to be another way."

"You sound different," Susan observed. "Let me come by and talk with you later tonight."

Jenny tried not to sound as impatient and frustrated as she felt. Susan would interpret that as another sign she needed help. "I don't want to see you tonight. You said yourself when I started therapy with you that the patient has to be willing. Right now, I'm not willing. But thanks for caring. Next time Peter calls, tell him to check with me first."

Susan sighed. "All right. You have my number and you know you can call me anytime. You've experienced a lasting trauma. Don't think you can handle it by yourself."

"Thanks for your help anyway," Jenny replied calmly. "I'll talk to you later."

She turned her car into the underground parking area that was designated for the apartment building. She had her own apartment before the attack. Peter decided to let it go and have her stay with him afterward. It was easier. He took care of her with the help of a part time nurse/therapist. It made sense for them to stay together and let one apartment go.

She never thought about it until that night. But she lost more than her hands in the attack. She lost her independence. Before the attack, they stayed together sometimes, when they were both in town. She had her own place to go back to. She could do whatever she wanted without checking in with someone. Sometimes she didn't feel like seeing anyone, including Peter, and she stayed at home. She missed that sense of privacy.

She parked the car in the parking space allotted for the apartment they shared. Tonight was one of those nights. The first since she lost her old life. She wished she had her own place to go to instead of going back to Peter's apartment. No matter what, it still seemed like Peter's place, not her own. He thoughtfully put most of her personal things into storage until she was well enough to decide what she wanted to do with them. It made her sense of living in another person's home that much more complete.

Jenny got out of her car and started towards the elevator. Something caught at her throat and wouldn't let go. It was like strong hands strangling the life from her. She ran back to the car and locked all the doors. She held on to the steering wheel with both hands, straining to see the empty parking lot. The roof was low and the lighting was poor. The shadows in the corners of the lot mocked her and held their secrets. Trapped in them, in her, were the answers to why and how this happened to her.

She believed the police when they told her that it was a random act of violence. People were raped and beaten, robbed, every day. Several thousand times a day. Atlanta wasn't necessarily a violent city. Certainly the area around Weller Hospital was a decent area. But it happened. She spent the past year reminding herself of that fact.

Sometimes she believed there was more of an answer to it. Susan told her that she was looking for answers that didn't exist. That her mind refused to believe that anything bad could happen to her without reason. Everyone looked for those reasons. Jenny believed Susan knew what she was talking about.

She experienced the same thing as a surgeon. When she lost patients on the operating table, their families always wanted to know why. Wasn't there something else that could have been done to keep their loved one alive? Why did this happen to me? Everyone wanted to understand and explain why bad things happened to people.

But it was a vicious cycle. There were no explanations. Sometimes things just happened. How many times did she tell a waiting relative whose father, wife, son or brother died in her care? I'm sorry. We did everything we could.

It was the single, most terrible part of a doctor's life. Every surgeon knew it was in the hands of God when you took up the scalpel. There were miracle cures when people survived who didn't have a chance in hell. There were terrible tragedies like when a young man didn't survive a routine operation. Suddenly his heart stopped and he couldn't be revived.

She knew those things. Yet, she went over and over the attack in her mind. She replayed every nuance of the two men who savagely beat her. She heard every inflection in their voices until she felt like she knew them as intimately as she did her own voice. In her dreams, she stripped off the men's masks. She saw their faces as they raped her, heard their labored breaths. But the reality was that she had no idea who the men were under their masks. The police were beginning to think that they would never know.

Where did that leave her? She crawled out of the thick cocoon that was protecting her from the world. She wanted to learn to live with the reality of what happened to her. She shielded herself from the terrible truth in Peter's apartment. She didn't want to face people with their questions and their sympathy. She was dormant for so long it was surprising that her brain didn't cease functioning.

No more. She made a silent vow. She had been afraid. She was still afraid. The shadows and the smells of the parking lot terrified her. The long, dark concrete path that led to the elevator stretched before her like a chasm. She didn't know if she could cross it. What if there are other people out there waiting to hurt you? She didn't know if she could bear that pain and fear again.

But she had to make a stand somewhere. She realized the truth when she saw Riley's face again. Hearing his voice reminded her of his words that night in the ambulance. "Hold on. You can make it." She recalled that she wanted to hold on to his hand. She reached out for it but her hands weren't functional. He held on to her. Something of his strength and his determination communicated itself to her.

"Dr. Maxwell?" A security guard rapped at her car window. His lined, concerned face appeared next to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice was a frightened squeak that betrayed her. "Just a little scared." She was so hesitant and frightened to express herself. Not like she was before. She pushed herself up from Boughten and a cheap public school education to compete with men and women like Peter who had it all.

"I can walk you up to your apartment, if you like," he offered kindly.

"That's okay. I'm fine. Thanks. I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay." He tipped his hat to her. "Let me know if there's a problem."

"Thanks."

She came so close to saying: Yes, please walk me to my door so that I don't have to be afraid. I don't want to be alone in this place. What if something happens again? Who will protect me?

Of course, he knew what happened to her. Didn't everyone? She saw bits and pieces of it on the news for weeks. Then the next terrible thing happened and the next victim took center stage. She memorized the words and pictures.

WKXE NEWS FLASH!!!

"They found her, stripped naked and badly beaten, on the side of the street early this morning in Boughten. Police refuse to say if the woman was raped or if they have a lead on her attacker. They are searching for the woman's identity and have given us this description: the woman is Caucasian, about five foot seven with dark hair and blue eyes, probably in her late twenties or early thirties. If you have any information about this woman, please contact the Atlanta police department. Back to you, Dan."

She waited until the security guard disappeared into the shadows of the parking lot. Then she pushed herself out of the car and popped the trunk.

She didn't know if she ever put anything in the trunk of her car before. She owned it for two years but she rarely used it. Her apartment was close to the hospital. She never went anywhere except the hospital. It amazed her when she thought back on it. She ate, slept, and worked at Weller. Her life was a very small circle.

She opened up the flap where the spare tire was stored and grabbed the tire iron. It was cold and heavy in her hands. Balancing her purse and the tire iron, she closed the trunk. She looked around the empty garage. With a new sense of confidence and control, she walked to the elevator. She wasn't going to be a victim anymore.

The phone was ringing as she walked into the apartment. She switched on the light and put down the tire iron and her purse. She didn't realize how hard she was holding on to the metal shaft until she let it go. It left an indentation in her hands.

But she made it across the parking lot, up the elevator, down the corridor and into the apartment. She was afraid but she did it anyway. Didn't she read once that courage was only being afraid and doing it anyway? She felt powerful and triumphant for a change. There was something left of her old self.

She picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Darling?" Peter's voice was full of concern at the other end. "Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you all evening."

"I was out." Suddenly, her spirits deflated. She wasn't ready to tell him that she made contact with her family yet. He didn't know any of them. He never met them until that night at the hospital. Her description of her family and their lives wasn't sparkling. She didn't know how he was going to take her re-entering their world.

"Out?" he asked with a little laugh. "Out where?"

"Just driving around," she lied. "I dropped you off and I went for a drive to think about things."

He was silent for a long moment. "I was worried, Jennifer. You could've answered your phone."

"I'm sorry," she answered contritely. "I was thinking. I didn't hear the phone ring."

"As long as you're all right. Did Susan call you?"

"Yes, she did. I wish you wouldn't have called her."

"Why? You're still having those dreams. You aren't willing to take the initiative yourself."

"I'll take the initiative when I want to go back to her. I'm not continuing therapy at this point."

"Why not? You're not well yet. You're terrified of your own shadow. You can't stand me to touch you."

"We'll work it out on our own." She looked at the tire iron on the table. "Susan hasn't been helping me. But I think I made an important breakthrough tonight."

"Does it involve how stubborn you can be?"

"It does in a way," she confided in him. "It involves finding the old me. I thought she died that night. But she's pretty stubborn. I think she can help me through this."

"Jennifer, listen to yourself." His voice was deep and hoarse with emotion. "You need help."

"It's all right. I know you're concerned. But you were right. If we're going to have a future together, we have to get beyond the attack and living in the past. I'm going to do that."

"I'll be back tomorrow. These trips are killing me. We need to spend some time together. Maybe we can talk about taking a vacation. A real vacation. Maybe someplace tropical."

"That sounds great!" She laughed. "But I'm not sure either one of us would know a real vacation if it came up and bit us on the nose!"

He chuckled. "You may be right. Maybe we can learn together."

"I'll see you when you get back. I love you, Peter. Thank you for standing by me through all of this."

"I love you, darling. What else could I do?"

Jenny put the phone down thoughtfully. Peter would understand about her family when she told him. She was being paranoid about him. He was anxious about her health but he wasn't a tyrant. Maybe some of Kyle's feelings about him rubbed off on her while she was there. But she knew him better. Maybe part of her new life was going back to Boughten and finding her family again. Maybe not. But it didn't mean she had to give up on Peter. They had a rough year but they could still make it work.

She looked around the quiet apartment. Peter had excellent taste. His decor was flawless. Cream-colored walls were the perfect foil for cocoa sofas and white chairs. He didn't design it himself. His mother sent her own interior designer over to do the job. Her house always made Jenny feel like she walked into the window display at an expensive furniture store.

Peter's antique sword collection, protected in a heavy glass case, was perfect over the fireplace. The armoire was elegant in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. The bedrooms were splendid in varying shades of blue with white accoutrement. She could see the same influence in Peter's apartment as she saw in his mother's house. It was perfect but austere. Subdued and elegant.

She had nothing against any of that and was in awe of how they lived that way. Jenny knew it wasn't her. She tried to make it part of her since she met Peter three years ago. It didn't show up in her apartment. He was always reminding her that she had what he lovingly called urban chaos in her home.

Her tastes were eclectic and haphazard. One month she might be looking for Roerich prints in the underground Atlanta shops. The next she was collecting a new artist she saw on the street. She liked a lot of color. Texture was important to her. And she liked movement. She couldn't stand to see the same thing stay in one place for too long without moving it.

If that amounted to urban chaos, she missed it. After spending nearly a year in Peter's perfect apartment, she longed for a little dust and clutter.

She had no doubt that it would take some compromise. When it came time to buy a house or find another apartment it would have to suit both of them. Peter would have to learn to live with a little clutter. She would have to learn to live with a little less color. It was a trade off like everything else. But what in life wasn't?

Peter was a good man with a brilliant future ahead of him. They had a strong relationship. It was the only way they could weather what they went through since the attack.

Trying to shake her restlessness, she decided to take a shower and get ready for bed. Jenny looked at her face in the mirror. She let down her curly brown mane of hair, shaking it free around her back and shoulders. Blue eyes the color of sapphires flashed back at her. Her thoughts, riddled with resentment, came to haunt her. Peter was a good man with a brilliant career ahead of him.

Her career. Peter was the new chief of microsurgery at Weller because she couldn't perform those delicate procedures anymore. They both had outstanding achievements in the field but the Board chose her. Despite the fact that his family was well known and that he went to the best schools. Despite the money and close friends backing him. They chose her to lead the new unit. It was scheduled to be announced two days after the attack. But it wasn't a secret. Everyone at the hospital knew about it.

She closed her eyes and put her hands over her face. It was still painful for her to open her hands completely. The doctors weren't sure if it would ever be better. She still had trouble using simple gadgets. Can openers and remote controls for the television were difficult. Small numbers on her cell phone were tough to maneuver.

Her father said that she could still be useful. That being a teacher was ridiculous for her. But he didn't understand. She gave up so much of her life to accomplish that one dream. That one golden moment when she knew the Board was going to name her chief of microsurgery. She went for two years eating a can of vegetable soup once a day to save money and pay for her schooling. She lost her friends and family. And it was all gone in those few minutes in the parking deck.

All she had left was a share of Peter's glory, his pride in the new atrium that she attended hundreds of fundraisers to build. They put her name on a plaque in the atrium out of pity. And a sense of horror that what happened to her could happen to them. But the respect that was once in their eyes was gone. She hated the pity she saw there in its place.

The phone rang. She let it ring. She turned on the water in the tile shower and let it beat against her body until the hot water was all gone. She was turning blue from the cold water coursing down her chest and arms. Freezing, she hurried from the shower and put on a heavy robe. The cold acerbated the pain in her hands. She flexed them slowly, agonizing over the small movement.

The doorbell chimed. Someone was downstairs. She wasn't expecting anyone. She answered it, shivering from the cold and the pain in her hands. "Hello?"

"Hi Jenny! It's me." It was Kyle. "You dropped your wallet at Dad's house. I brought it to you."

"Thanks. I'll buzz you up." She hated for Kyle to see her this way. She was shaky and nervous. Sometimes those attacks of uncertainty came on without warning. One minute she was fine and the next, she was a basket case.

She opened the door when he knocked. Riley was there with him. She wanted to grab the wallet and close the door. She knew she had to invite them in.

"Nice place." Kyle wandered through the apartment.

"Thanks. It's Peter's really." What made her say that?

"Can't wait to meet him. Where is he?"

Riley didn't say a word. It bothered her. Like answering the phone and someone hanging up. She glanced at him. He was looking around the apartment but he didn't move from the doorway.

"Thanks for helping Kyle bring my wallet back." It was useless jabbering but she needed to say something.

"Sure. Your father mentioned that you might like to take a tour of the clinic. It's on Magnolia Street, in the old YMCA building."

"They closed down the 'Y'?" She couldn't believe it.

"They said it was too risky," he answered. "We don't get pizza delivery or taxi service either. There's twelve square blocks that's no man's land."

"That's terrible." She thought about how many times she went to the YMCA as a child. It was a delight and a pleasure to swim there. It was a loss to the community.

"So you'd like to see the clinic?"

"I don't know." Did she want to go back to Boughten so soon? Did she want to get involved any further? Was it part of her renaissance, her path to find herself? Or just a distraction?

"I understand." His tone declared that it wasn't a good thing that he understood. "Too much slumming might be bad for your career."

"I don't have a career," she snarled at him. "I won't ever be a surgeon again."

"Sorry if I don't break down right here. But there's more to being a doctor than surgery."

"Not for me." She wished Kyle would take him and leave. Where was Kyle?

"All right. Just let me hit you with one important fact. Doctors save lives. At least that's what we're supposed to do. They can teach as they go. They can have specialties. You have a gift. If you give that up to teach, you'll waste it. There are lives out there you can save without surgery. It wasn't surgery that saved your life."

"Thank you, Doctor." She walked away before he could say anything else to her. Did he think he could make her feel guilty? She knew what the neighborhood was like before she left ten years ago! It was bound to be worse. "Kyle?"

He was admiring Peter's 'naked lady sculpture'. The housekeeper called it that and refused to dust it because it was 'rude'. "This is great."

"I'm glad you like it." She took him by the arm and dragged him to the door.

"Where's Riley?"

"We...disagreed. I think he left."

Kyle kissed her cheek. "Still good with the boys, huh, sis? Talk to you later!"

"Thanks for bringing the wallet!" Jenny closed the door behind him and locked it. Thank God that man was gone! Was there ever a more obnoxious person? Granted that Riley was the one who took her to the hospital. She was grateful for that act. He probably saved her life. But she hoped she never saw him again!

She turned out the light in the bedroom and climbed between the sheets. She slept in Peter's spare room since he brought her to live with him. They never slept together anymore. First it was because she was too battered and bruised. Then she was recovering.

Now, when he touched her, it all came back, rising like gall in her throat. She felt their hands on her again. She felt their bodies pumping into hers. She wanted to think it would be different someday. The truth was that she wasn't sure. Her body was healed from the attack. Her mind was another story.

Her renaissance was short lived. It consisted of a brief moment of clarity and a short walk from the car to the apartment with a tire iron in her hands. Then she was engulfed in fog again. She wanted her life back so badly that she felt like her heart would explode in her chest. She couldn't release the stubborn spirit that pushed her way into a world many thought she wouldn't be able to enter. Her face might look the same in the mirror but her heart and her soul were split in half.

Jenny slept for a few hours toward morning. She worked herself into a fine rage against Riley Thomas for judging her when he didn't know anything about her. At seven, she was on the road, heading towards Boughten. She was going to take a look at the clinic. And she was going to give him a dose of his own medicine. It was simple for him to tell her what she should and shouldn't do. She could tell him about dedication and perseverance. Just because he chose to stay behind and create a neighborhood clinic didn't make him the angel Gabriel.