Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
He nodded.
“Now,” I said, taking a breath. “Would you help me bring out the appetizers? I have found over the years that food helps everything.”
Once there were things to snack on arranged on the table how I wanted, I noticed that I’d lost Dr. Butler, as he was standing by the railing watching Sam out in the yard with Jake as they looked at the fence on the left.
“If he pushes on that,” Kurt began, sipping on the glass of ice water I gave him, “even if it’s solid, it might give.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “He’s a big strong man, but even though he’s loud, he’s got a long fuse, and he’s not a hitter.”
“Oh no,” he rushed out, taking a seat beside me in the matching Adirondack chair where Sam normally sat. “I didn’t mean to imply––Jesus, don’t tell him I thought that or—”
“I know,” I assured him, turning to look at him. “But when he yelled in the kitchen, you were bothered. Was your father a yeller?”
He cleared his throat. “He was, yes.”
“And, if I may be so bold, a hitter as well?”
“Occasionally, yes. But more often the type to run you down until it really didn’t matter if you caught a beating or not.”
“And your mother?”
“She was in the line of fire as well,” he told me. “But she was smart. She left when my sister, Thomasin, was five and I was seven.”
“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely, hearing the pain in his voice. Losing a parent, for whatever reason, never stopped hurting. If they were bad, you longed for what could have been if things had only been different, and if they were good—that was simply a hole in your heart.
He shrugged. “It’s a lifetime ago, but my father remarried, and he’s got a new family now, so he gets a do-over.”
“You’ve never heard from your mother?”
“No.”
“What about your sister?”
“Oh”—his face brightened—“my sister and I have always been super close. She lives in Portland, and I drive out there, with the dogs, for all the holidays. I keep asking her to let me know if she and her husband and the kids want to visit his family or go on vacation, and I assure them I’ll be fine, but apparently they actually like having me around.” His smile was almost sad. “I suspect it’s the dogs.”
“Or not,” I commented.
He sighed deeply. “Why did I tell you all that?”
I tipped my head and smiled at him. “People talk to me all the time.”
“You would have made an excellent therapist.”
“No,” I replied seriously. “I can’t imagine not becoming terribly involved with every single person. It must wear you so thin at times.”
“It used to,” he confessed. “But now I stick with people, like your kids, who need help with something specific for a set amount of time. I can’t imagine that my time with them will go beyond a few months. They all processed what happened to them so well.”
“What was that?” I asked him.
“What was what?”
“When you said ‘they processed what happened to them so well,’ there was a definite note of judgment.”
“I assure you that––”
“Are you trying to say that my kids have had more trauma than other kids?”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “But it’s all external, from outside the family.”
“Meaning what?” I asked, hearing a car come down our driveway.
“That it’s easier for them to deal with the trauma, as their safety is never compromised at home, only away from the home.”
“I can’t tell if this is a good thing or not.”
“If there must be trauma—especially as it pertains to Hannah—then that’s the kind you want. Because both your kids feel, as do Harper and Jake, that as long as they’re here, nothing can hurt them.”
“Well, of course not.”
“I didn’t have that place of safety growing up. It’s never to be taken for granted.”
“The hell is that now?” I heard Sam growl.
Turning, I saw Aaron coming through the back gate, holding it open for Duncan, who was carrying a massive box up on his right shoulder.
“We missed his birthday because I had to be in Rome,” Aaron answered, closing the gate behind his husband and then leading again up to the deck where Kurt and I were. “And as I got back last night, I wanted to bring over his gift on this lovely Saturday evening.”
“Help me put it down,” Duncan ordered Sam, who got up the stairs quickly to assist his friend with getting the gigantic box wrapped in brown paper from his shoulder to the deck.
“I could’ve helped you,” Aaron snapped.
“Why?” Duncan asked irritably. “This is the only part I need help with.”
“Jesus,” Sam grumbled, helping to set the box down that was apparently much heavier than Duncan made it look. “What is this, two hundred pounds?”
“It’s more like one twenty-five and packing material,” Duncan assured him. “Don’t be such a whiner.”