Читать книгу Her Fresh Start Family - Lorraine Beatty - Страница 14

Chapter Three

Nina glanced at the clock in her office Tuesday evening, tapping her fingernails on the desktop. The ladies would be here in fifteen minutes, and she was having a full-blown anxiety attack. She’d tried a few deep breathing exercises, several stress-relieving stretches and even resorted to a brief prayer, but nothing helped.

Intellectually, she knew she was prepared for this group therapy session. She’d read the files and all of Kathryn’s notes, and she had a pretty good idea of what to expect. Still, the thought of trying to guide a group of widows triggered all her insecurities. No. Her fears. These women could shatter all the windows in her shrine of grief.

The door swooshed open, and a tall blonde woman entered carrying a large purse over her shoulder. She was dressed in skinny jeans that fit the way they’d been intended, and a soft green flowing top. With her long hair and bright green eyes, she looked like she’d stepped off the pages of Vogue. She saw Nina and a huge smile brightened her face.

“You must be Nina. Ooh, I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Evelyn Clark.” She spread her arms and hurried forward, wrapping Nina in a huge, perfume-laced hug. Thankfully, the awkward moment ended quickly, and she was able to hide her discomfort.

The door opened again, and two more ladies entered. One was a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a simple pair of jeans, plain knit top and tennis shoes. The other woman was close to Nina’s age and wore leggings under a long tunic, and large gold earrings that accented her dark curly hair. They introduced themselves as Paula Ingram and Charlotte Kirby. Nina knew the names from her files. Evelyn had lost her hubby to cancer many years ago. Paula’s husband had been killed in an oil rig accident in the Gulf. Charlotte was a military wife who lost her husband in the line of duty.

The ladies made their way into her office and got comfortable. Nina took a seat and glanced at the door. Officially, there were eight women in the group, but according to Kathryn’s notes, not all of them attended regularly. “How many more are you expecting?”

Evelyn placed her purse on the floor beside her chair. “Jen and Trudy are coming, but Rona has a school thing, and Elise has a migraine.”

Nina checked her file. “And what about Yvonne Monroe?”

The women all wore silly smiles. “I don’t think she’ll be back. She’s met someone and it’s getting serious. I think we’ll hear wedding bells soon.”

Nina remembered several notes in Yvonne’s file. Her husband had been murdered. Her file was the thickest. She had a long, hard climb back to mental health. It was good she was transitioning forward into a new life, but the thought of doing the same for herself knotted Nina’s stomach.

The door opened once more, and two women hurried in. The first was a small woman wearing a simple skirt and blouse and dark-rimmed glasses. The other was plump with graying hair and a cheery smile. Her perfectly tailored linen outfit suggested she was well-off.

“Sorry we’re late.” The older woman grinned and hurriedly took a seat. “I’m Jen. And she’s Trudy.”

Trudy took a seat in one of the side chairs slightly apart from the others, who had gathered on the sofa. Nina made a mental note of this, and then settled in, being sure to make eye contact with each woman and ignore the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m glad to meet you. Kathryn tells me you’ve been a group for a number of years.”

Jen nodded. “We’ve had some come and go. Several have remarried and are living happily-ever-after.”

“Since I’m the new one here, why don’t we start by telling me what you usually talk about.”

The women shared glances and knowing smiles.

Evelyn spoke first. “Well, actually, we want to get to know you.”

Paula leaned forward. “Before we spill our guts, so to speak.”

“Don’t listen to them.” Jen held up a hand. “They’re just nosy. Don’t tell them a thing.”

Nina stifled a smile. She’d been worried, but they all seemed relaxed and made her feel at ease. Even comfortable.

“So, tell us about you.” Evelyn clasped her hands together and smiled. “All we know is that you’re a widow like us. Kitty wouldn’t tell us any more than that.”

The warmth faded and turned to icy alarm. They knew. She hadn’t planned on sharing that information so soon. Not until she’d grown more comfortable with the women.

Trudy nodded. “We were glad to hear that. You’ll be able to share things we haven’t experienced yet.”

No, she couldn’t. How could she when she’d never gone down that road? She didn’t understand anything about being a widow. She’d spent the last three years deliberately not understanding it.

“How long has it been?”

All five women had their eyes on her, waiting for her answer. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Three years.”

Jen sighed softly. “How did it happen?”

Please don’t make me say the words. “He was killed in Afghanistan.”

“I’m so sorry. My husband was a soldier, too. I understand.”

Nina expected to feel the searing pain of loss again, but Charlotte’s soft tone of understanding scrubbed off the sharp edges she usually encountered. The realization left an uneasy sensation in her chest. “Well, as much as I’d like to spend time getting to know each other, I think it best if we start our session. We only have an hour.”

“Well, then I’ll go first.” Evelyn took a deep breath and smiled. “This is my last meeting. I won’t be back.”

Mumbles of disbelief traveled around the room.

“Remember that job offer I had in Louisville? Well, I took it. I’m leaving Friday.”

The women quickly surrounded their friend and hugged her, expressing their joy.

Evelyn sat back down. “I was so dependent on my husband that, when he died, I was lost. I never believed I could do anything without him. It took me seven years, but here I am, ready to move away from the only home I’ve ever known and start a new life in a new city. And I’m excited.”

“I wish I was as brave as you.” Trudy adjusted her glasses. “I could never leave Hastings, let alone Mississippi. I’d be terrified.” She looked at Nina. “Were you scared to leave Chicago and come here?”

Caught off guard, Nina searched for a proper response. She was supposed to facilitate this session, not participate in it, but the women expected an answer. “Not really. Though I didn’t think about it too much. Kathryn called, and I was able to help, so I came.”

Trudy sank back into her chair. “Everyone is braver than me.”

Jen reached over and squeezed her hand. “Nonsense. You just need to build your self-confidence.”

Paula nodded. “There’s nothing wrong with staying in one place your whole life. Remember, Kitty said, we each have a growing trail to walk, and it’s different for each of us. It just takes some of us longer to deal with the grief.”

“Or not deal.” Charlotte spoke up. “I wish I’d faced it sooner. It’s been ten years, and I’m only now starting to move forward. What does that say about me?”

Nina listened to the various conversations and the admissions as the women shared their varied journeys down “the widow’s walk to wholeness,” as Kathryn called it. Before she knew it, the session was over, and she realized her anxiety had been for nothing.

As she lay in bed that night, their comments burrowed into her mind. She’d seen herself in each of the women. Denying the reality, afraid to move forward, feeling lost and inadequate. She’d always believed she was alone in those feelings. Despite knowing the stages of grief and recovery, they never seemed to apply to her, only her patients.

The women were as warm and friendly as Kathryn had said. The session had gone better than she’d anticipated. It had practically run itself. All she had to do was observe and record, and offer an encouraging word.

Next week she’d be far less anxious about the group. They might even give her more to think about. But she’d have to be more careful about sharing her own story. She wasn’t ready for that and probably never would be.

* * *

He was running, but his feet weighed a ton, making forward progress difficult. He saw the soldier fall. He shouted, but he was too late. Two soldiers, hands clasped in the dust and debris of the explosion. He’d failed in his mission. He’d vowed to protect the man with his life, but he’d allowed his chaplain to be killed.

Bret sat up in the bed, sweat running down his neck and beading up on his forehead. It had been a long time since he’d had the dream. Months. Why had it resurfaced now?

Sleep now was pointless. He got out of bed and headed to the kitchen for a glass of tea. The house was stuffy, so he opted for the cool darkness of the back porch. A few moments later, the back door opened and his father joined him. Bret willed him to leave, but he knew he wouldn’t and that talking about the dream usually helped—some.

“Same old dream or something new?”

“Same.”

“How long you plan on nursing this load of guilt?”

“Dad, don’t.”

“It was an accident. Not your fault. His choice. Not yours.”

“My responsibility. My failure. Only two military chaplains killed in battle in the last fifty years, and one of them was mine.”

“The army doesn’t blame you, and the good Lord has forgiven you, so you must like carrying that weight on your back, or you’d let it go.” Dad stood. “Same way you keep blaming yourself for Sylvia walking out. Her fault. Not yours.”

Bret set his jaw. His father had no idea the depth of his guilt where his marriage was concerned. He should have seen how unhappy Sylvia was. He should have known that he wasn’t pulling his weight.

“Find someone to talk to, son, before this thing eats you alive.”

Nina Johnson’s face came to mind. Bret had a feeling she would understand. He had no idea what her issue was, but the chain-mail coat she wore around her heart was familiar. If it weren’t for his girls, he’d be wearing one as thick and impenetrable as hers. He doubted being so withdrawn was good for a psychologist. She should understand things better than most. Unless she’d been hurt deeper than most. Maybe therapists, like medical doctors, made the worst patients. Too close to the trees to see the forest they were lost in.

He hated the thought of the lovely Nina lost and alone. It was a hard way to live. And for some reason, it was important to him for her to be happy.

* * *

It was Friday. Nina ran a hand through her hair and let her gaze travel around Kitty’s office. Maybe she should have stayed home today. There were no patients scheduled. Dottie wouldn’t be here. Nina could have stayed at the hotel, buried her head beneath the pillow and waited for tomorrow to come. But she’d learned from painful experience that trying to ignore this day only made it longer. It was best to keep busy. She still had dozens of case histories to read over, and after the widows’ meeting, she wanted to learn more about each of her ladies.

They were all so strong and confident. She envied their ability to walk through their grief and come out in the later years feeling whole and filled with hope and a sense of purpose. Things she would never experience. But they had fired her curiosity, and some of the things they’d said had forced her to think about her own situation. Which was why she wanted to be better prepared next week. She had to be able to control the discussion and steer it away from herself.

An email popped up on her cell screen, illuminating the time and date. Tears pierced the backs of her eyes. She forced them away. She had to get through today in one piece, and the only way to do that was to work. Hard.

Bret had tried to question her about her withdrawn mood on the way to work, but she’d brushed it off as fatigue from the stressful first week on the job. Thankfully, he remained silent during the rest of the ride. Once there, she’d hurried to the office and pulled an emotional blanket around herself.

Five years ago, this day, she’d lost the most precious thing in her life. Her daughter, Molly. Surviving this day was the hardest thing she faced each year.

The stack of patient files kept her busy through to midafternoon. A box lunch from the hotel had helped her avoid going out to eat. Bret must have had a busy day since he hadn’t popped in to check on her. Either that or her cold-shoulder attitude this morning had scared him off. Strangely enough, she was getting used to him watching out for her. It had been a long time since anyone had cared about how she was doing.

She glanced at the clock. In a couple of hours, she could go home, hide under the covers and watch some mindless pay-per-view movie, and when she woke up tomorrow, she could put it all behind her for another year.

“Nina.”

She looked up as Bret came through her office door. Her heart lurched when two little girls scurried in behind him.

“I have some people I’d like you to meet.”

Caught off guard, she could only stare. No, please, not now. She wasn’t strong enough to face children today. Tomorrow.

From somewhere far off, she heard his voice as he introduced his children. He touched the top of each little head lovingly as he spoke.

“This is Olivia—she’s eight—and this one is Georgiana. She’s five.”

She recalled Bret mentioning he had two daughters, but she’d ignored it. She didn’t want to know about Bret’s personal life. The less she knew, the less involved she’d become.

The sight of the older girl plunged a hot knife into her throat. She was the same age as Molly when... The memories she kept locked away came clawing back, and she was powerless to stop them. She gritted her teeth and tried to look pleasant.

The girls said hello, and Georgie waved, a big smile on her sweet little face. “Hello.” She wasn’t sure she actually made an audible sound, because blood surged loudly in her ears, and her heart thundered so hard her chest hurt. She thought Bret said something about the girls wanting to meet her, but she wasn’t sure about that.

“Can we color?” The little one bounced on her toes.

“Miss Kitty keeps books and colors for the children, and sometimes she colors with us. Do you like to color?”

Olivia’s question stole her breath. Molly loved to color. She looked at Bret and saw his expression fade from proud parent to friendly smile to deep concern. She should say something. Explain, but her heart was being shredded. The two little girls with their pigtails and sweet smiles were yanking the thick cover from her deeply buried memories. Memories that would consume her if she let them loose.

“Girls, why don’t you go back to my office and tell Miss Jackie that I said you can have some cookies. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“But we just met the pretty lady.”

“Go on. Grandpa will be here soon to pick you up.”

Nina managed to say goodbye in a calm voice, but the minute the girls were gone, she turned her back and wrapped her arms around her waist.

“Are you all right? I didn’t mean to barge in. I get carried away with my girls. I think everyone should find them as adorable as I do. I never considered that you might not like children.”

His words sliced through her emotional fog. “I like children.”

“Really? Most people smile when they see little kids. You gritted your teeth and went pale as a ghost.”

Her conscience pressed like an anvil upon her spirit. She couldn’t keep living like this. “I was surprised. That’s all. I wasn’t expecting to see them today.” Tears filled her eyes. She snatched a tissue from the box on her desk, willing herself to stop. Crying would only bring about more questions, and she wasn’t in any condition to answer them.

“Nina. What’s going on? Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’m fine. Just go back to work.” The sob escaped her throat before she could stop it.