| |
Being fashionably late worked great for not having to talk to anyone before counseling began, but not so well for getting a choice seat. When the door clicked shut, Quinn trained her eye on the chair where she’d sat the previous Monday, but someone else occupied it.
Of course. No one had assigned seats. This wasn’t kindergarten.
The only empty seat? Right next to Nick, a blue blazer over his tight tee and seated to the left of Dr. Holiday. Could it get any worse?
She stifled a snort. Yes. She could’ve had to sit next to Mrs. LaRue.
Too late to walk out, she sank into the orange plastic chair and slid her purse to the floor. If she didn’t look at them, they wouldn’t see her there, at the front of the room. She crossed her legs at the ankle and shoved her hands between her thighs. With the heat tingling up her neck, her face had to be nine shades of red.
When Nick spoke, her ears pricked. She had no inkling why, but what he said was familiar. He talked about the first month after loss, how bad the pain was, how, when the numbness began to wear off in the second month, it became worse. She’d gone through every emotion he described.
He understood. She could hear Claire’s I told you so and envision her parents standing behind her, arms crossed and heads nodding.
But who had he lost? Why was he here? She twisted her clenched hands in her lap, the wedding ring glinting under the fluorescent lighting. Why did she care?
The dustcover over her heart wobbled. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why would she think that way? She wasn’t uncaring. She was a nice person. If she could feel anything, she’d feel ashamed. She’d let her pain become her justification, and she hated that.
A man named Charles began to cry. He’d lost a young daughter, and it had driven his wife mad. In a way, he’d lost them both.
Brendan had kept her from going mad. Would the people in this room be the ones to keep her from going mad this time? Though she was becoming aware she wasn’t alone, she still had no desire to speak to them, to open her heart, to cry in front of them. They didn’t need to know how broken her heart was or how she’d lost herself to a deep abyss.
It would have to be enough for her to know she wasn’t crazy, her ache to curl up around Brendan’s pillow and cry didn’t make her insane. It made her normal.
Dr. Holiday didn’t call on her, a huge blessing. Mrs. LaRue smiled at her. Nick glanced in her direction at least once. But no one made her talk. As the session wrapped up, Quinn lifted her bag to her lap—made sure she had her phone—and prepared to make her exit. If she moved fast, she might escape before anyone said a word.
Dismissed. Time to go.
“Great to see you made it back.”
She hadn’t even stood up all the way. She swung her purse over her shoulder, put on a polite face, and greeted Nick. “Yeah, uh, it’s not so bad.”
Until Dr. Holiday moved to Nick’s side. “Quinn. Edward Holiday. I’m glad you’ve decided to join our group.”
With a polite smile, she accepted the firm grip of his outstretched hand. “It’s nice to be here.” Lie! She hadn’t met this many people since she’d started working. The pressure was like walls closing in, walls with spikes.
The doctor winked. “And one day you’ll believe that.”
He had her pegged.
“I see you’ve met Nick. He’s a good one to know around here.”
“I wouldn’t listen to him.” Nick’s cheeks colored.
“Don’t be so modest. You two enjoy your evening. I’m going to make my rounds and get out of here.” The doctor moved on to the next group of people.
“He seems nice.”
“I’d be lost without him.”
She wouldn’t have had time to ask him about his sincere comment if she’d wanted to.
“Quinn!” Mrs. LaRue scuttled over and rested her hand on Quinn’s arm, her rings clattering as she squeezed.
Everything in Quinn deflated.
“I’m so glad you came back this week. I feared I’d scared you away. Won’t you forgive me for being so blunt?”
Caught off guard, eyes widening, Quinn opened her mouth in silence before stuttering, “U–um, of course.”
“Wonderful. Well, what do you two have planned for the evening?”
Planned? Hadn’t she just apologized for being blunt? Did this lady have split personalities or something?
“Actually...” Nick spoke low, seeming to be trying to find the right words. “I was just going to help Quinn with her truck.” He raised his brows at her. “Are you ready?”
“What?” She’d become part of a play—she just didn’t know which part.
“Oh, I’m so sorry you’re having car trouble.” Mrs. LaRue patted Nick’s arm. “You are so sweet to help her. A man who will help a woman in her distress is priceless.”
“Thank you, Mrs. LaRue. We’ll see you next week.” He motioned for Quinn to follow.
Clueing in, Quinn played her part. “Good night, Mrs. LaRue.” Somehow, she even managed to sound polite.
“All right now.” The woman waved them on and homed in on the next unlucky person.
As they broke through the door into the hall, Quinn had to laugh. “Thank you for lying for me.”
“I wouldn’t lie for just anyone, but after last week, you could use the rescue.” He winked. “I’m sure God forgives good intentions.”
Cute wink. Ugh. She fiddled with her purse strap, uneasy as he walked with her to the outer door. He’d saved her from what could’ve been a long conversation, but now what? She didn’t want to get out of one just to endure another. She wanted to go home.
“Mrs. LaRue’s not bad. She’s nice once you get to know her. It’s just getting past all the preliminary fluff.” He held the door open. “Milady, your freedom.”
Laughing, she walked out into the clear September night. The air was still warm, but the slight breeze stirred the fragrance of the purple petunias blooming in the triangular beds to either side of the walk and made her wish for fall. Whiteside Park had grown quiet. The distant sound of traffic along Forty-first Street had her dreading driving home.
“Would you like to get some coffee?”
She drew up short, no longer dreading the traffic. As his eyes went wide, he seemed shocked he’d asked. She was shocked, but not altogether repulsed. Why?
Stepping out the door, he let it shut behind him and dug his hands into his pockets. With the breeze tousling his brown hair, he looked like a little boy expecting to get scolded. “That sounded a bit LaRue-ish. But I assure you that is not what I meant.”
“Well, at least we’ve coined a new term.” She pulled her lips in. “Maybe coffee isn’t such a great idea.”
“Look, I wasn’t asking you out. I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other. We can invite the whole group if you’d like.” He nodded toward the door where, inside, people were milling about and moved to pull it open. “Maybe Mrs. LaRue would like to join us.”
“Oh no.” Quinn grabbed his arm to stop him, then jerked her hand away. His muscles were rock hard. How many hours did the guy spend in the gym? Hmm. Like her on the track. Not so different. And of course, by the look on his face, he was joking. What a sense of humor this one had.
Head tipped to one side, blue eyes fixed on hers, he held up his hands. “No obligations. Just coffee.”
She hadn’t had to turn a man down in years. “I don’t know if I’m ready for... people yet.”
A pent-up breath whooshed from his lungs as his whole body relaxed. “I do understand.”
Of course he did. Still, she didn’t want to seem rude. Why again? “Rain check?”
“Absolutely.” He gestured toward the parking lot. “You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thanks again.” And she meant it.
“See you next week.” She was sure he meant that too.
Well, what was another week? She’d come back tonight and survived. She went one way, and he went another. She climbed into Brendan’s truck and paused to breathe, taking inventory.
Mrs. LaRue had apologized—sort of. Maybe Nick was right. Maybe she wasn’t so bad. Maybe there was even a story behind all that lipstick. Smiling to herself, Quinn started the truck.
And Nick. He’d made her laugh. Not an easy feat. Maybe he wasn’t so bad either. Except, coffee? Oh, what had she gotten into?
Maybe she wouldn’t come back. Maybe she would. She had a whole week to think about it. As she headed home, the prospect wasn’t so daunting. Nick and Mrs. LaRue she could deal with. Facing her parents and Claire if she didn’t go back? That was terrifying.
A week to decide, but her decision was made. She’d go. She wouldn’t speak, at least not during the session. But she’d speak to Nick, her built-in protection from Mrs. LaRue. And Monday by Monday, she’d crawl to the top of the pit.
