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Avery laid a hand against her chest. “You’re saying she blames me for putting her through the crash?”
“To an extent, I’m afraid so.”
Shuddering, she covered her mouth with her hand. “My God.”
“It will be a real breakthrough when she allows her mind to live through that explosion again. Then she’ll remember you rescuing her.”
“That would be hell for her.”
“But necessary for a complete cure, Mr. Rutledge. She’s fighting her memory of it. My guess is that her recurring nightmares lead her right up to the moment of impact.”
“She said the fire was eating her,” Avery said softly, remembering Mandy’s last nightmare. “Is there anything we can do to prod her memory?”
“Hypnosis is a possibility,” the doctor said. “What I’d rather do, however, is let her memory evolve naturally. Next time she has one of these nightmares, don’t wake her up.”
“Christ.”
“I know that sounds cruel, Mr. Rutledge, but she’s got to experience the crash again to get to the other side of it, to reach safety in the arms of her mother. The terror must be exorcised. She won’t overcome her subconscious fear and dread of your wife until then.”
“I understand,” Tate said, “but it’s going to be tough.”
“I know.” Dr. Webster stood, signaling that their time was up. “I don’t envy you having to stand by and let her relive that horrifying experience. I’d like to see her back in two months, if that’s convenient.”
“We’ll make it convenient.”
“And before that, if you think it’s necessary. Feel free to call anytime.”
Tate shook hands with Dr. Webster, then assisted Avery from her chair. She wasn’t the mother Mandy had the subconscious fear and dread of, but she might just as well be. Everyone would lay Carole’s blame on her. Even with the support of Tate’s hand beneath her elbow, she could barely find the wherewithal to stand.
“Good luck with your campaign,” the psychologist told Tate.
“Thank you.”
The doctor clasped Avery’s hands, sandwiching them between his. “Don’t make yourself ill with guilt and remorse. I’m convinced that you love your daughter very much.”
“I do. Did she tell you that she hated me?”
The question was routine. He heard it a dozen times a day, particularly from mothers harboring guilt. In this instance, he could provide a positive answer. He smiled a good ole boy’s smile. “She speaks very highly of her mommy and only gets apprehensive when referring to events that took place before the crash, which ought to tell you something.”
“What?”
“That you’ve already improved as a parent.” He patted her shoulder. “With your continued tender loving care, Mandy will get through this and go on to be an exceptionally bright, well-adjusted child.”
“I hope so, Dr. Webster,” she said fervently. “Thank you.”
He escorted them to the door and pulled it open. “You know, Mrs. Rutledge, you gave me quite a start when I first met you. A young woman did a television interview with me about a year ago. She bears a remarkable resemblance to you. In fact, she’s from your area. By any chance, do you know her? Her name is Avery Daniels.”
* * *
Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels.
The crowd was chanting her real name as she and Tate made their way through the crowd toward the dais.
Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels.
There were people everywhere. She stumbled and became separated from Tate. He was swallowed by the crowd. “Tate!” she screamed. He couldn’t hear her over the demonic recitation of her name.
Avery, Avery, Avery.
