The wood-paneled walls of the boardroom were closing in.

Natalie Mitchell fiddled with the strand of pearls around her neck and took deep breaths, painfully aware that every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on her as she stood to the side of the large screen and tried to make sense of the flowchart she had been describing succinctly only moments ago.

"And as you can see, our charitable donations last year gained significant notice in the ..." Natalie tried to untangle her thoughts. She avoided Peter's intense gaze and wished for the thousandth time for her ex-fiancé to find employment elsewhere. "In ..."

Was it sweltering in here? Even as cool air blew from the vents above her, Natalie felt a drop of perspiration slide down her back. She adjusted the collar of her silk blouse and scanned her notes. Come on, think!

"I'm sorry, I ..." Natalie glanced up and caught her father's stare. The papers she held slipped from her shaking hands. She bent to pick them up off the floor, straightened, and cast about for one friendly face seated around the long table. Vague expressions and awkward silence forced a final attempt to pull it together.

Somehow she found her voice and made it through the presentation. It wasn't her best moment. Her father's frown confirmed it. One of the downsides of working in the family business was constantly having to prove herself. She'd only been head of PR at Mitchell Enterprises for a few months, so the pressure was on.

"Thank you, Natalie." Her father cleared his throat and raised a brow. "I hope you're not coming down with that nasty bug going around."

He didn't expect an answer. Not here. Natalie managed a weak smile and sat in miserable silence through the rest of the meeting. The minute it was over she gathered her things and fled the room.

She barely made it to the bathroom before the nausea overtook her.

The screeching of tires and the sickening thud that followed played over and over in her mind, no matter how hard she willed the memory away.

How was she supposed to live like this?

She'd been doing so well the past few years. This regression had to be temporary. Natalie shook her head and glared at her flushed face in the mirror. Weeks ago she could have believed that. But this had been going on too long. It was time to do something about it.

She also knew one thing her father didn't. This was no bug.

* * *

That Friday night she finally agreed to join her parents for a weekend away from the city. She loved New York, but lately the noisy, crowded city set her on edge.

Natalie sat on the porch of their Yarmouth, Cape Cod home after dinner, hoping the fresh, early September sea air would revive her shattered spirit. After the fiasco of a meeting on Tuesday, she'd given in and seen her doctor that afternoon. And the news wasn't good.

Sleepless nights, lack of appetite, nausea, and flashbacks. All the familiar signs were there. He was concerned about the possibility of another breakdown. Started her on new meds and wished she'd come in sooner.

Now she sat in semidarkness, debating with herself. She couldn't tell her parents what was really going on.

There was no quick fix for this.

"Nat-a-lie? Are you out here?"

Natalie pulled the colorful patchwork quilt tight around her shoulders and waited.

Her mother's succinct steps drew closer.

The screen door squeaked open and banged shut.

Heels tapped out an unbroken code on the one-hundred-year-old wooden planks as Jane Mitchell marched across the upper porch with purpose. "There you are. For heaven's sake! It's freezing tonight, you'll catch your death."

Natalie swiped her cheeks and sent the white rocker into high gear.

Her mother gripped the arms of the chair and brought it to an abrupt halt. "Natalie!"

The moon escaped the clouds and illuminated her wide, worried eyes. "What's going on? Your father says you almost lost it at a meeting the other day."

Natalie huffed and averted her gaze. "I did not almost lose it. I was fine."

"Like you've been fine ever since June when you and Peter called off your engagement?"

"Mom, if you invited me out here for the weekend to rehash all that, I'd rather not."

"I'm worried about you. We both are."

"You needn't be. I just had a bad day. That's all." A bad few months.

"Come downstairs to the study. Your father wants to talk to you."

"Talk or lecture?"

Her mother backed up, smoothed her crisply creased linen trousers, and patted her sleek bottle-blond chignon. The salty breeze would coax a few stray curls out of confinement any minute. "Are you coming?"

"Yes." No use refusing. She extricated herself from the rocker, dragging the quilt along.

In her father's study on the first floor, a fire danced and beckoned her over to wiggle her cold fingers before the yellow and orange flames. Strains of Vivaldi filtered through speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling.

Her mother scoured the area like a sergeant on patrol, picking dead bits off her prize-winning violets and straightening magazines already stacked in perfect piles along the gleaming cherry wood coffee table.

Bill Mitchell held court behind his desk. The lines that creased his brow said whatever he planned to discuss was serious.

"You wanted to see me?" Natalie shuffled across the rich red-toned Persian rug and stood before him, thirteen years old again.

We're sending you away, Nat. It's a lovely school. You'll be happy there. You can move on, put all this behind you ...

Her mother positioned herself in one of the burgundy leather armchairs across from him and waved Natalie toward its twin. "Sit, Natalie."

Natalie sat and tried to shove off apprehension.

Dad leaned forward and studied her. "I'm concerned about the way you've withdrawn since June. We haven't been able to get you out here all summer. Natalie, I have to ask. Are you ..." He blew out a breath and sat back, unable to say it.

Are you having another breakdown?

Natalie sank a little lower in her chair.

That awful night at the beginning of June when she'd shown up at Peter's apartment unannounced, only to find him with another woman, had flicked some invisible switch. Since then, she'd been battling the past and all its demons 24/7.

"Don't worry. I'm totally fine."

"I don't think you are fine." Her father sounded perfectly calm, as though a maelstrom wasn't brewing. But his eyes told a different story. He was a highly respected businessman, but known as someone you did not want to cross. Unfortunately, she often felt the same.

"Dad, I said I'm —"

He held up a hand. "One moment you're giving a presentation at a board meeting, the next you can't finish a sentence. You're working long hours, but frankly, the last two presentations haven't been what I expect from you. And from what we can surmise, you spend far too much time alone in your apartment." He paused, letting each volley of words reach their intended target. "Is it just the breakup with Peter or is there more going on?"

She couldn't find the courage to tell her parents the truth. Couldn't admit that, once again, she had failed to meet life's challenges with the stoicism modeled by them.

Dad exhaled and downed dark liquid from a crystal tumbler. The storm in his eyes abated, but he still didn't look pleased. "Natalie, you can talk to us." He took on a kinder tone. "We only want...