finishing touch. He returned his
attention to the road, fingers tapping out an impatient, restless beat.
"I don't know where we are," she
muttered a minute later. "I think we're lost."
"Look harder."
"I did," she insisted, still in a
fine display of temper. "This is a small road and the map doesn't show
minor roads. So there! Next time you decide to run from the cops, at least pick
a road that's on the map!"
"I'll be sure to remember that." He
arched a single brow.
She glared back pugnaciously. "You are not
a nice person!" she announced.
That fired up his second brow. "Surely you
can do better than that for a comeback. Come on, try."
Her cheeks flushed. "Unlike some people," she said stiffly, "I do not go around regularly insulting
others. I don't believe violence or yelling is the answer to anything. People
yell too much. It's very destructive and doesn't solve anything."
"Of course."
"I'm serious. Exchanging insults is
childish and immature. True conflict resolution requires two people
communicating as intelligent, rational adults, sensitively in tune with the
feelings of the other party—"
"What are you talking about?"
"Let's try it," she said abruptly,
turning sideways in the cab and pinning him with eyes that were more than
slightly desperate. "I'll tell you how I feel and then you tell me how you
feel, and once we understand each other you will feel secure enough to let me
go." She smiled at him brightly, but it strained the corners of her mouth.
"Have you been watching too many TV talk
shows?"
That smile grew real strained. "No, I'm
trying to tell you that I'm intimidated by you. I'm scared out of my mind but I
understand your desperation. I'm sensitive enough to your fear of being caught
that if you let me go, I won't tell anyone."
"Because you don't want to hurt my
feelings?"
"Exactly!" She beamed at him with
wholehearted approval.
"Maggie, what do you do for a
living?"
The smile faded. She appeared puzzled and
perturbed. "I'm a marriage counselor—"
"What? I thought you were a court clerk."
"A court clerk? Why would I be a court
clerk? I'm a marriage counselor."
He groaned, his dismay palpable. He shook his
head, and his disgust was sketched all over his face. "Of all the people
in that courthouse, I kidnapped a shrink."
"I beg your pardon!" Her chin came up
lightning fast, her eyes blazing to life. She looked a trifle indignant and
more than a little hurt. "I will not be belittled by a term like 'shrink.'
Do you have any idea how important marriage counselors are? Do you have any
idea of just how difficult it is? What it's like to spend your days listening
to people say how much they love each other and their children, and then
proceed to scream at each other over everything from how she spends all the
money on furniture to how he always leaves the toilet seat up? It's … it's … hard." Abruptly, her voice broke. She looked away, appalled by how much her voice had
risen, how much her chin was trembling.
She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes
and the telltale thickness in her voice. Nerves, she told herself. Delayed
shock and extreme fear. But she knew, of course, that it was much deeper than
that.
She'd been very weepy lately and for no reason
that she could understand. She hated crying. Crying didn't solve anything, as
her father had always told her. But for some reason, she found herself on the
verge of tears a lot these days. Once, she'd been in her office, listening to a
young couple explain that they really did want to save their marriage because
while they knew they had their differences, they did agree that they
loved their children more than anything and they would do everything in their
power to maintain their family for their kids.
And all of a sudden, Maggie had had to ask them
to excuse her for a moment because she knew she was going to cry. She'd hustled
the startled people back into the waiting room, barely getting her door closed
in time, and then she'd just stood in
attention to the road, fingers tapping out an impatient, restless beat.
"I don't know where we are," she
muttered a minute later. "I think we're lost."
"Look harder."
"I did," she insisted, still in a
fine display of temper. "This is a small road and the map doesn't show
minor roads. So there! Next time you decide to run from the cops, at least pick
a road that's on the map!"
"I'll be sure to remember that." He
arched a single brow.
She glared back pugnaciously. "You are not
a nice person!" she announced.
That fired up his second brow. "Surely you
can do better than that for a comeback. Come on, try."
Her cheeks flushed. "Unlike some people," she said stiffly, "I do not go around regularly insulting
others. I don't believe violence or yelling is the answer to anything. People
yell too much. It's very destructive and doesn't solve anything."
"Of course."
"I'm serious. Exchanging insults is
childish and immature. True conflict resolution requires two people
communicating as intelligent, rational adults, sensitively in tune with the
feelings of the other party—"
"What are you talking about?"
"Let's try it," she said abruptly,
turning sideways in the cab and pinning him with eyes that were more than
slightly desperate. "I'll tell you how I feel and then you tell me how you
feel, and once we understand each other you will feel secure enough to let me
go." She smiled at him brightly, but it strained the corners of her mouth.
"Have you been watching too many TV talk
shows?"
That smile grew real strained. "No, I'm
trying to tell you that I'm intimidated by you. I'm scared out of my mind but I
understand your desperation. I'm sensitive enough to your fear of being caught
that if you let me go, I won't tell anyone."
"Because you don't want to hurt my
feelings?"
"Exactly!" She beamed at him with
wholehearted approval.
"Maggie, what do you do for a
living?"
The smile faded. She appeared puzzled and
perturbed. "I'm a marriage counselor—"
"What? I thought you were a court clerk."
"A court clerk? Why would I be a court
clerk? I'm a marriage counselor."
He groaned, his dismay palpable. He shook his
head, and his disgust was sketched all over his face. "Of all the people
in that courthouse, I kidnapped a shrink."
"I beg your pardon!" Her chin came up
lightning fast, her eyes blazing to life. She looked a trifle indignant and
more than a little hurt. "I will not be belittled by a term like 'shrink.'
Do you have any idea how important marriage counselors are? Do you have any
idea of just how difficult it is? What it's like to spend your days listening
to people say how much they love each other and their children, and then
proceed to scream at each other over everything from how she spends all the
money on furniture to how he always leaves the toilet seat up? It's … it's … hard." Abruptly, her voice broke. She looked away, appalled by how much her voice had
risen, how much her chin was trembling.
She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes
and the telltale thickness in her voice. Nerves, she told herself. Delayed
shock and extreme fear. But she knew, of course, that it was much deeper than
that.
She'd been very weepy lately and for no reason
that she could understand. She hated crying. Crying didn't solve anything, as
her father had always told her. But for some reason, she found herself on the
verge of tears a lot these days. Once, she'd been in her office, listening to a
young couple explain that they really did want to save their marriage because
while they knew they had their differences, they did agree that they
loved their children more than anything and they would do everything in their
power to maintain their family for their kids.
And all of a sudden, Maggie had had to ask them
to excuse her for a moment because she knew she was going to cry. She'd hustled
the startled people back into the waiting room, barely getting her door closed
in time, and then she'd just stood in
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