The sadness of her lunch with Bill resonated as Beth walked into therapist Haley Alverez’s office for the first time Thursday morning. They spent their first session with Beth telling her story. Occasionally, Haley asked a question, but for the most part, Beth talked and Haley listened. As they said goodbye, the short, round woman in brightly colored caftan and waist-length silver hair gave her a hug. “It will get better, Beth. I promise. Time is a great healer.”
“Everyone tells me that.”
“Because it’s true. You’re still in shock right now. That’s why your mouth is dry and you can’t sleep or eat.”
“What about the crying? Will it ever stop? Before last week, I hadn’t cried since I was a child. It’s not like me at all. I’ve come so unglued! I’m always the calm, steady one.”
Haley squeezed her hand. “You can be calm and steady with tears. Crying at a time like this is actually cathartic and healthy.”
“Lucky me,” Beth said, wiping tears from her cheeks.
“I mean it, Beth. Let yourself cry. When you’re alone and out of everyone’s earshot, let yourself cry audibly, as loud as you can, as long as you need. It will help the anxiety and help you heal.”
“Guess I’ll have to saddle up and head out to the other end of the Valley.”
“Good idea, but in a pinch, a closed car parked on its own is pretty soundproof and comfortable.”
“We haven’t talked about Lang much.”
Haley studied her, trying perhaps to gauge whether to say more. “There’s always next time.”
“He leaves tomorrow.”
“Yes, but Boston isn’t the moon. There’ll be time to talk when you’re ready. Better not to push things until you are.”
“I know your next patient is probably waiting, but after listening to me ramble on, do you think I threw myself into the thing with Lang on the rebound, as a way to run from the hurt of Bill?”
Haley smiled. “I don’t know you well enough to say anything about that, but even when I do get to know you better, my answer will be the same. That’s a question only you can answer, Beth. See you next Thursday?”
“So that’s how therapy works? No advice, I guess? I talk, you listen, and I slowly figure things out.”
Haley chuckled. “Something like that, but progress will come, I promise. I prefer to support my clients as they come up with the answers they are seeking.”
“Thanks, Haley. See you next week.”
As she parked at the farm, Beth had to admit she felt calmer than she had since the day she had discovered Bill and his lover. That will have to be enough, she thought, waving to Raoul as she headed in to find Ruthie.
Lang headed out of Morgan’s Run. He considered taking a detour to the farm, but he had promised to check in on his father, so headed to the winery instead. As he drove in, he spied the Rover parked at the house and Neecy just alighting.
“Hey!” she called.
“Hi, Neece. Thanks for the airport run.”
“No problem. Gave Cilla and me time to catch up and say goodbye. She’s such a sweetheart. We’ll miss her. I’m sure you’re excited to get back to Boston.”
Ignoring the housekeeper’s allusion, he said, “Listen, Neece, can you do me a favor and run this truck down to the winery? I’m gonna check on Dad. Then I’ve gotta go out.”
“Course. Leave the key in it. I’ll call Manual and see how soon they need it, then take it down.”
She followed him into the house, where they found Martha Dillon fussing over her husband. The nurse, Judy Partridge, stood in the background in faded mauve scrubs, calm and watchful. Partridge appeared to be in her forties. Her short blond hair was covered with a net. She was short, compact and, Lang guessed, strong. He nodded to her.
When Martha spied her son and housekeeper, she visibly relaxed. “Oh, good. You two are back. Neecy, Jon’s gone into town for groceries. Can you make us some lunch? What do you think, Judy?” she asked, turning to the nurse. “Would a turkey sandwich be okay for him?”
“Absolutely, if he’s up to it.” Judy looked across at Jaybo, who was propped up in his hospital bed, looking like a grand pooh-bah.
“Would you two hens stop talking about me like I’m not here? I’m perfectly capable of ordering whatever I want for lunch. Neecy, I’ll take my turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato, pickles, and plenty of mayo. And some chips and salsa and iced tea, too.”
“Lang, sweetheart,” his mother said. “Can Neecy fix you something?”
“Thanks, but I’m just checking in. Got some errands to run.”
“Oh, but this is your last day, sweetie.”
“And I’ll be back in plenty of time to spend it with you guys.”
“Good, because Jon’s got a special dinner planned. Judy, would you like lunch, too?”
“Thanks, that would be lovely, but I can fix it myself.”
“Nonsense. Neecy, three turkey sandwiches, no pickles for me, and iced teas. Thanks. Maybe Judy can come with you, in case she likes her sandwich a special way.” She waved at the housekeeper and nurse, shooing them ahead of her into the kitchen.
Lang took a seat beside the bed. “How d’you feel, Dad?”
“Like crap.”
“Guess that’s to be expected.”
“So, you’re taking off tomorrow?”
“Yup. I asked Mom and Rose if they wanted me to stay, but they say they can manage.”
“Course we can manage. What the hell do you think we’ve been doin’ for the last fifteen years?”
“Of course.” Lang spoke softly, working hard to control his temper. For his mother’s sake, he did not want to provoke an argument. As he gazed at the petulant figure beside him, he felt strangely at peace. With glistening clarity, he realized he felt nothing for his father. Neither love nor hate, just tolerance. He would tolerate and respect his parent for the sake of his mother and sister, whom he genuinely loved.
“Look, son, I don’t need your pity or your checking in. For your mother’s sake, let’s have a nice dinner tonight, then say our goodbyes.”
Lang stood and watched the bravado fade from his father’s face. He was scared to death, but working hard not to show it. “Works for me. Can I get you anything before I go?”
Jaybo looked away and waved his hand. “No, thanks. The ladies will take care of me.”
After filling his gas tank and doing a few errands, Lang had a late lunch at Gracie’s. Relieved not to run into anyone he knew, he paid Stacy and headed out. “Tell Gracie I’ll miss her sandwiches,” he said, tipping his hat at the redhead, who was clearly smitten.
“Oh, you’re leavin’ us?” Stacy looked stricken and wrung her hands on a very dirty apron.
“Yup, gotta get back home. Work’s waitin.”
“Bet your folks are sorry to see you go. How’s your dad? I heard he was in the hospital.”
“Home now, recovering with lots of people fussing over him. Should make a full recovery.”
“That’s great. Well, see ya.”
He tipped his hat again and stepped back into the afternoon heat.