Tall, Dark and Cranky

It was a pity she wasn’t going to work here. The Berringer mansion—merely Grant Berringer’s summer home—was so beautiful, the kind of grand old place she’d so far only admired from a wistful distance. Earlier Matthew Berringer had told her a little about the estate, which was set on ten acres of ocean-front property. The twelve-bedroom mansion, designed in the style of a French Norman manor house, was built in the 1920s for a wealthy oil magnate, part of New York’s aristocracy. The stones had been shipped from Europe, as well as the craftsmen who had put the place together. The carved stone architectural details included gargoyles with all too human faces. With its wide, rambling structure, courtyards, slate roof and turrets, the place looked more like a miniature castle, Rebecca thought, nestled in a grove of woods near the sea. The decor within was fit for royalty, as well.

Not only did she need a new job, but she and Nora, her six-year-old daughter, needed a new place to live by the end of the month and an apartment in one wing of the huge house was part of the deal, in addition to a generous salary. Matthew Berringer had already shown her the rooms, which were lovely. Certainly enough space for her and Nora for the summer. If Grant Berringer required her services for longer than the summer and Nora had to return to school, Rebecca had told Matthew Berringer some other arrangements would be necessary. But he hadn’t seemed put off by that potential complication. He’d stated that he’d be happy to hire a tutor for Nora or enroll her in one of the fancy private schools nearby. Rebecca felt satisfied by his reply. Although she had read Grant Berringer’s medical records and discussed his condition with Matthew, she still needed to see him with her own eyes to gauge how long he would need her help.

Living on the beach for the summer, in such luxurious surroundings, no less, would have been heavenly. But…she’d blown it all with her irrepressible need to be honest.

Well, she wasn’t really sorry. She’d only told Matthew Berringer the truth. People always say they admire honesty. In theory, perhaps, but not in actuality, she’d noticed. Not in her case, anyway. Perhaps she’d helped him, in a way. He’d be wary of the next applicant, who might claim to be able to have Grant Berringer behind his desk in no time flat.

Finally, Matthew Berringer looked at her. The irritation in his expression had disappeared.

“I know what you’ve told me is true, Ms. Calloway. I know the real motivation has to come from within Grant. I just don’t want to believe it, I guess. I keep wishing I might find someone who could snap their fingers and make my brother well again,” he admitted.

“I understand. I really do,” she sympathized. “Just about everyone I meet who is caring for a loved one feels the same.”

“But my brother’s case is different from most you’ve had in the past,” Matthew Berringer said. “He has had an extraordinary loss. Many people use the word tragedy when they’re describing a sad but not necessarily unusual event. My brother, however, has lived through a tragedy, a devastating event that cost him…everything. And left him with an impossibly heavy burden of guilt, in the bargain.”

So far, Rebecca had only learned that Grant Berringer had been in a car accident. She’d heard that he’d been the driver and there was one passenger involved who had died instantly. Grant had escaped with multiple injuries the most severe to his right hip and leg. Those were the basic facts, but obviously there was more to the story.

“Why don’t you tell me everything about your brother’s accident? Everything you think is relevant to his recovery, I mean. I do need to know the complete details in order to evaluate the case.”

Loss was something she knew about. She could empathize with Grant Berringer. But at the same time, she had been through so much in her life, Rebecca wasn’t sure she had the resources to handle an unusually demanding assignment.

Matthew Berringer’s cool blue-eyed gaze met hers, then he looked away. It seemed he was gathering his thoughts. “I’ll try to keep this brief and to the point,” he said. “My brother was engaged to be married. He and his fiancée, Courtney Benton, were returning to the city after spending the weekend at the country home of one of my brother’s clients. It was bad weather, a sudden heavy rainstorm, and my brother apparently lost control of the wheel. The car skidded off the road and crashed into a cement wall. Courtney was killed instantly. My brother was in a coma for two weeks. When he woke up and learned what had happened, he barely had the will to go on living.”

“Oh, dear…that is heartbreaking,” Rebecca said softly. She had heard many sad stories during her career, but this was one of the saddest. That poor man. She couldn’t imagine his grief…or his guilt.

“And to complicate matters even further, my brother has some memory loss. He can recall events leading up to the accident. Leaving the home they were visiting and such. But he can’t remember anything that happened right before the crash occurred. He can’t even remember if he and Courtney were trying to pull over and wait out the rain.”

Matthew Berringer sounded amazed but somewhat frustrated. “The doctors say he may never remember.”

“They may be right,” Rebecca agreed. “I have heard of such situations before. It’s a reaction to extreme trauma or stress. It’s the mind’s way of protecting itself from memories that are too painful to relive.”

“Yes, I understand all that.” As Matthew Berringer nodded, a lock of his smooth brown hair dropped across his brow, and he impatiently brushed it back. “But I often suspect that if Grant could remember all that happened that night—no matter how distressing those memories might be—perhaps he’d be able to move forward, to work through his grief and rebuild his life.”

“Yes, it might help him a great deal. But it’s a catch-22 of sorts, isn’t it?” she added. “He will get stronger if he remembers. But he’ll only be ready to remember when he gets stronger.”

“It’s a riddle inside a riddle.” Matthew shook his head, and Rebecca could sense his frustration and sadness. Matthew had also experienced a loss, she realized. The loss of a brother who was once vital and strong, an equal in friendship and camaraderie, for it was clear that the two were quite close.

Rebecca did not know how to reply and thought it best to say nothing. Sometimes it helped people to talk, even if she couldn’t supply an easy answer. She sensed that Matthew Berringer needed to talk right now to someone he thought could understand not only his brother’s dilemma, but his own, as well. “So you see, if he’s fallen into some dark pit of despair and is reluctant to return to the land of living, I believe, that after all he’s been through, it’s an understandable reaction.”

“Completely understandable.” Rebecca nodded and looked at her hands, which were folded in her lap.

Now that she knew the tragic story, she could see why Matthew was looking for a therapist who might be part superhero, part saint. The question loomed even larger—was she the right person for this job?

“I know the will to return must come from him,” he added, echoing her earlier words, “but I was hoping—praying, if you must know—that I could find the right…messenger. Someone who understands such matters and is willing to go down into that dark place and convince him to come back to us.”

His voice, which had been calm, increased in emotion, so that finally, Rebecca was quite moved by Matthew Berringer’s caring speech.

He was an uncommonly good man, she thought. A kind man. The type who would never give up on someone he loved. Rebecca admired that. Yet, despite his striking good looks and admirable qualities, she did not feel the least bit attracted to him.

It was funny how that worked, Rebecca reflected. The chemistry was either there…or it wasn’t. In this case, it clearly wasn’t. Not for him, either, she suspected. She could tell these things by now. Though he seemed to respect her professionally and to like her well enough in a friendly way. Which was all for the better, she thought, if he was possibly to be her employer.

“I’d like you to meet my brother. Will you come with me now and talk to him?”

“Yes, of course.” Rebecca was surprised at the invitation. Then pleased. She usually wasn’t asked to meet the patient if the interview was a total loss. Perhaps there was more hope of being hired here than she thought.

Besides, she was curious to meet Grant Berringer. It would help them both to decide if she was right for the job.

Matthew led her through the elegantly decorated mansion, and Rebecca quickly peeked through doorways and admired her surroundings. The house was furnished with a mixture of antiques and traditionally designed pieces, with sumptuous drapery, original artwork and interesting porcelain and statuary. Yet the decor didn’t look at all stuffy or museumlike. The rooms retained a fresh, light-filled look Rebecca found inviting.

“Grant has a few rooms upstairs, but when he was released from the hospital, the doctors advised me to set him up on the ground floor. I fixed a suite of rooms for him in the west wing of the house, including an exercise room with all types of equipment for his therapy. I’m in the city during the week, but I’ve hired a private nurse to take care of him during the day. A young man named Joe Newton. He’s been great with Grant, very patient.”

While most health-care professionals needed to extend patience to their charges, Rebecca sensed Grant Berringer required an extraordinary effort in that respect. Not a good sign.

“Our housekeeper, Miriam Walker, lives in,” Matthew continued. “There’s an intercom system throughout the house, so Grant can call her if there’s any need.”

Rebecca listened and nodded. It sounded as if Matthew had thought of everything. They had passed several large main rooms—a banquet-size dining room, an impressive parlor and a huge kitchen stocked with professional-looking cooking equipment. Lured by the view, Rebecca couldn’t help but slow her step to glance inside the doorway.

“Great kitchen,” she remarked when Matthew turned to glance at her.

He smiled. “You must like to cook if the sight of all those pots and pans and gadgetry turns you on.”

“I do. When I have the time.” She thought of the tiny, ill-equipped kitchen in her apartment in the city. It was a challenge, but she still managed to turn out some great meals for dinner guests or for herself and Nora when she had the time and inspiration to experiment. What a treat it would be to cook in a kitchen like this one.

“It’s a very relaxing hobby, I hear,” Matthew said. “Never caught my interest, though. I much prefer to work out my frustrations on a golf course…then visit a good restaurant for dinner,” he joked. “But my brother loves to cook. He had just had the kitchen redone before the accident. He was quite a chef. He had so many interests—tennis, sailing, skiing, traveling to the most exotic places. He played hard and worked hard. He’s known on Wall Street, too. Notorious, in fact, for being tough, even ruthless, some say. Grant is a successful, self-made man who knows how to live life to the fullest. Or did, before the accident,” Matthew added. “You couldn’t guess it, though, to see him now.”

“He could be that way again,” she said optimistically. “In time.”

“Yes, I suppose,” he agreed with a heavy sigh. “But it’s hard to believe when you see him now.”

They had arrived at double doors at the end of a long hall. Matthew knocked once, and a male voice answered. “Just a moment.”

A young man with short dark hair answered the door. Joe Newton, the private nurse, Rebecca assumed. He smiled at Rebecca in greeting. He had a kind, gentle manner, she thought, if first impressions were any clue. He looked quite strong, as well. Was Grant Berringer so incapacitated that he required a weight lifter’s aid? From what she’d read of his injuries, it shouldn’t be as dire as all that.

Matthew led her into the room and made some quick introductions.

“How’s Grant doing this afternoon?” Beneath Matthew’s casual tone, Rebecca could sense his concern.

Joe shrugged a hefty shoulder. “About the same, I’d say. I persuaded him to go out on the beach after breakfast, then he wanted a nap. He refused to do any exercise today. Said his hip hurt too much,” Joe reported with a frown. “He’s been resting for some time now. I was just about to try to get him up.”

A nap, in the middle of a day like this one? His depression was deep. While she had a degree in psychology as well as one in physiotherapy, she wondered if she was professionally equipped to treat this man.

“Let me go into him alone first,” Matthew said.

Matthew disappeared into the adjoining room and Rebecca was left alone with Joe. “Are you interviewing as a physical therapist?” he asked her.

Rebecca nodded. “Have there been many others here so far?”

“Matthew has hired plenty. But they don’t last very long. Grant scares them away,” Joe replied with a laugh.