Dallas, Texas
June 1979
"JR, do you hate me?" Sue Ellen asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Hate you? No, not in the slightest," he replied.
JR leaned back in his leather chair, placing a hand on his forehead as they spoke over the phone, and closed his eyes. He had silently wished that time apart might have given Sue Ellen some clarity, but it seemed her progress was slow.
"But I broke our marriage vows," she whispered.
For the first time since she'd been admitted to Brooktree, he was glad she couldn't see him, because his expression would have terrified her. He'd been unfaithful in their marriage plenty of times before, a behaviour he now felt very differently about. That she felt guilty, like she'd been unfaithful or had done something wrong, made him feel like the worst kind of man.
"No, you didn't," he said firmly. "What happened was not your doing. It was done to you. You didn't do anything wrong."
He knew her well, too well, and knowing that someone else knew her like that too, specifically, who did, made him feel ill every time he thought about it. He could only imagine how she felt.
"Do you believe that?" she asked, her voice fragile.
"I do," he said with conviction.
He believed she'd never been unfaithful, that her thoughts had never been on what she could gain. Instead, she had been shocked, scared, complying because she was frozen, unable to extricate herself.
"I'm not sure I do," she admitted. "I could've done more."
"Do you believe that?" he asked gently.
He heard her sniffle in response. He wasn't surprised when she murmured, "oh, JR," and then began to cry.
"My boy's getting big," Jock said, standing behind her as she gazed out at the Brooktree gardens. His arm curved around her, hand over hers, fingers splayed between her own. She stood frozen for a moment before pulling her hand away, trying to nonverbally hint that he should do the same. He didn't.
"More than halfway there now," she replied, forcing a smile.
"How is he?"
"He or she is perfect," she said. Jock's question had become routine, as had her response.
"Are you still convinced it's a girl?"
"No, my thoughts change day-to-day."
She hadn't been able to predict her first pregnancy accurately, and she felt no more confident this time. Jock, on the other hand, seemed completely certain.
"Mine don't," he said with a small laugh. "I'm sure it's a boy."
"What makes you so sure? There's an equal chance it might be a girl," she countered.
"My experience is I have sons, and my intuition tells me this is another," he said confidently.
"We'll see."
He could be right, or he could be wrong. There was nothing they could do to find out now; they'd just have to wait. Lately, it felt like waiting was all she did. She'd waited while Jock did as he wished to her, waited for JR to come home and save her, waited for Doctor Conrad and Doctor Rogerson to piece her broken life back together, waited for a monthly occurrence that never came, waited for confirmation of her worst fears, and for a doctor who could help. Unfortunately, she had waited so long that now she was left waiting to meet their son or daughter.
"Mrs Ewing?" A voice pulled her from her dream.
Opening her eyes, she saw two nurses standing in front of her. She was lying out in the sun, feeling hot and uncomfortable. The garden from her dream was her exact location now, the scene eerily similar to a real experience she'd had with Jock more than a year ago.
"Mm?" she murmured, disoriented.
"It's time for your medication." One of the nurses knelt beside her, handing her a glass of water and her pills.
Sue Ellen took them without protest. She wasn't sure the antidepressant was helping; she certainly wasn't happy, despite taking her prescription every day. But she didn't argue. If she felt bad now, she could only imagine how much worse it might be if she stopped taking something that was supposed to help her.
"You look flushed," the nurse said, concerned. "It's hot out here. I think you should go sit on the porch. There are refreshments there if you're feeling hungry or thirsty."
"Thank you," she said softly.
She wasn't hungry or thirsty, but she was hot, though she wasn't sure if the sun was to blame. The vivid dream she'd had had been far too similar to a memory, leaving her feeling unsettled. Dreams didn't necessarily mean anything, especially now, with her mind tangled up from trauma. But still, a distraction might be welcome, because dwelling certainly wasn't.