A Matter of Trust: Follow Your Heart by Marcia Dickson Page A

was in his passenger’s seat, and he was a safe distance away, so
she could relax.
    As they set off for Little Rock, which was about 15
miles away, he said, “My name’s Doug, by the way.”
    Allison knew he was expecting her to reply with her
name, but said nothing. She didn’t want to make friends, just get to the
hospital.   But then she felt guilty.  He was really being a big help. The
least she could do was be civil.  “I’m Allison,” she said.
    “There’s a garage just up the road. Shouldn’t we stop
just long enough to get them to collect your car? “
    Allison hesitated but there was no avoiding the fact
that he was right. That was exactly what they should do.  “That’s a good idea.
Thanks.”   Allison knew she must seem ungrateful, but hoped he’d think it was
just the shock.
     She closed her eyes, hoping to avoid further
conversation. The fact was that for 3 years her stepfather had abused her
sexually, starting with “just touch me here, sweetie; it’s a kind of a game”
but soon progressing to things more sinister. It had only ended when he was
killed in a car accident. That was a death she was thoroughly grateful
for.   But 3 years was long enough to sour her on all men. She wanted to have a
little to do with them as possible.  Even being in close proximity made her
uncomfortable and she avoided their touch whenever possible, which it mostly
was.  It wasn’t this man’s fault.  He couldn’t help being male.
    That made her feel guilty again, and she tried to make
amends. “Sorry,” she said,” I’m too discombobulated to even be civil. I’m
really grateful for your help.”
    “Don’t worry,” he answered. “I understand. The last
thing you want right now is light conversation.”
    “You’re right. Sorry!”  Allison reflected that she really
must try to remember that there were men, and there were other men.  Every man
wasn’t her stepfather.  Doug seemed like one of the “other” men. He’d been
really thoughtful and considerate. There’d been absolutely nothing in his
manner to suggest that he might come on to her in any way.  She knew that the way she felt about men was neurotic, but she couldn’t break out of
it.  She figured she was scarred for life.
    Doug, for his part, sensed that her feelings about him
were at best ambivalent and that her unwillingness to engage with him was more
than just shock.  His work as a lawyer in civil and domestic disputes had
fine-tuned his intuition regarding relationships.  It was a pity, he thought.
She seemed like someone he’d like to get to know better.  She was certainly
attractive, even in her present dishevelment, and her clothes showed that she
was a woman of taste.  He was, in fact, looking for someone to form a long-term
relationship with.  He’d had a series of lovers, and had enjoyed the freedom of
casual relationships, but the shallowness of them had irritated him, and the
last break up had been bitter and protracted. She set out to wound him and knew
just how to do it, succeeding deeply.   He wanted something better and more
meaningful than just fun and games, which gradually stopped being fun and
games.  A pity that there was no sign of warmth in Allison.
    They stopped at the garage long enough for her to make
arrangements for her car to be towed and shortly after that drew up at the
emergency entrance of Hope Hospital, a private hospital just off US40, near the
eastern edge of town.
     

Chapter 2
     
    Allison had intended to ask him to just drop her off,
but she was feeling increasingly ill, and when they reached the hospital, she
got the car door open just in time to vomit on the pavement. 
    “Just stay there,” Doug said. “I’ll get you a wheel
chair.”
    “OK,” Allison said weakly.  She couldn’t summon up the
strength to refuse.
    As luck would have it, the emergency room was busy,
and as Allison was in a less serious condition than most, it was clear that
there was a long wait