She cried into the warm shoulder, frightened and hurt and so far down into the pain that it felt as if she’d never crawl out of it again. She felt fourteen. Fifteen. Twenty-one. Twenty-six when that soccer ball had brought back all the memories of all the surgeries she’d endured. All those times when she had thought the pain of living was too much and tried to end everything.

It hurt so damned much. It hurt . . . and she was all alone to bear it, the way little Linda had been alone and teenage Linda had been alone.

It was a while before she could form any other conscious thoughts beyond the depth of the pain and the intensity of the awareness of how lonely the despair had made her all her life. She wasn’t alone, though, there was a thoughtful, supportive and caring woman hugging her, someone who believed what she’d said. She wasn’t alone.

“If I can understand, then anyone can, Linda. Anyone who cares about you will be able to listen to your story, hurt for you and understand.”

“Yes, but if I told Marissa, it would be like letting my mother hurt her too.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone at all. The only person who needs honesty is you. Your mother hurt you, she hurt you badly. But you survived. You survived and did whatever it took to hold that secret back until now. Now you can handle it.”

“No,” Linda said between shudders. “No, I can’t bear this. It hurts all over again.”

“Yes, it does. It hurts just as bad as it did all those other times. The pain you feel is the beginning of healing it. If I gave you a pill right now and told you if you took it you’d die in minutes, what would you do?”

Linda knew right away but it was more than a few seconds before she could work her surprised answer past her lips. “I wouldn’t take it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re strong enough for the pain now. That’s why you remembered.”

Linda slumped in the seat. Her brain felt bruised from the inside and her vision blurred in waves of red. Weakly, she said, “I wish I could sleep.”

“I don’t do this often, but I have a spare room clients sometimes use. I really think you shouldn’t go home.”

“Okay,” Linda said quietly. “I don’t want to go home. It’s not home. Just for a little while, then—”

Dr. Kirkland shushed her. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow. You’ve done enough hard work today.”

Sometime later as she slipped into sleep, Linda was vaguely aware that she was in a safe place. Dr. Kirkland’s husband had a quiet voice. The walls were a soothing, pale blue which reminded her of an ocean sparkling outside a bungalow door. She’d felt safe there too . . . safe with a woman who laughed . . .

Chapter 9

“Well, of course exercise is important. We here at Take It Off have a sensible, modest exercise program that will only further accelerate your weight loss.”