by Elena Graf
“If you wanted to let me know you were interested, why not a romantic dinner at your place?”
Brenda glanced up shyly. “I didn’t want to push too hard….just in case you weren’t gay…or interested.”
“Ah,” said Cherie. “Your kitchen is too close to your bedroom.” She let out her breath in a long stream as she thought about what to say next. “And here you are, and I look like shit in my old sweats, no makeup, hair a mess...”
Brenda smiled her adoring puppy smile. “I think you look beautiful.” Brenda had said exactly the right thing, and she had that dreamy look in her eyes again.
Cherie forced herself back to earth. “We got off to a bad start,” said Cherie, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.”
“Good. So, when can you come over for that romantic dinner?”
Cherie laughed softly. “Let’s start with this dinner first.”
Chapter Ten
Lucy had twenty minutes before her next counseling session. She decided to head over to the church to see how the choir practice was going. Not wanting to disturb the singers, she opened the side door of the church as quietly as she could. It was heavy and she had to lean into it a little. She genuflected as she passed the altar, a habit from her Catholic upbringing and the High-Church influence of her seminary mentors.
As she turned, she saw Liz Stolz sitting in one of the pews. She was a little surprised, although it was not unusual for Liz to stop in to listen while the a cappella group practiced. The group was Maggie’s project, and Liz was her wife’s most devoted fan.
Lucy slid into the pew beside Liz. “How are you?” she asked. She was concerned because Liz looked frazzled. She was never one to make a big fuss over her appearance. She’d given up trying to tame her unruly gray hair and had it cut to look naturally disheveled. She was wearing makeup but looked pale. “Are you all right?” Lucy asked, patting her thigh.
Liz let out a huge sigh. “I’m frustrated. That’s why I came over to listen to the choir. I thought the music might calm me.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m trying to help the town get ready for the coronavirus, and I’m getting nothing but push back from the selectmen. They don’t want to allocate money for something that might not happen. Same with the fire department. There are already shortages, and when they finally get around to ordering PPE, they might not be able to get it. I bought masks last month when I first heard about this thing, and even then, they were hard to get. I had to order OSHA masks from a woodworking supply house. They’re actually better than medical grade, so that’s good, I guess.”
Lucy scrutinized Liz’s face. Her blue eyes were always intense, but now even more so. “How worried about this virus are you?”
“Very worried. Except, I seem to be the only one.”
Lucy took Liz’s hand and squeezed it. “I believe you. What can I do to help?”
That question brought an instant smile to Liz’s lips. Her whole face brightened. “Thank you, Lucy. I’m going to need your help.”
Lucy felt herself tense as she listened to Liz’s suggestion to close the Sunday school and after-service fellowship. She held her breath when she heard her name several platforms for hosting services over the internet.
“You don’t really think it could come to that?”
Liz nodded solemnly. “It’s surging in Italy. That’s what we could see here if we don’t take precautions now.”
“Would you be willing to join a meeting with me, Tom, and the warden?”
“Sure,” said Liz. “I wish everyone in town would take it seriously. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” She smiled and saw her smile mirrored in Liz’s face. “How’s the practice going?” she asked, gesturing toward the choir loft.
“They’ve been talking more than singing. It doesn’t matter. I’m so frustrated, I’m just sitting here, zoning out.”
Lucy laughed and patted Liz’s hand. “A church is a good place to zone out. You never know. You might even hear voices.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Liz groaned. “Don’t try that with me, Lucy. You know you’ll never convert me.”
“Never say never.” Lucy realized she needed to pay attention to the time. She slipped her hand into her pocket for her phone, but remembered she’d left it in her office. “Liz, what time is it?”
Liz pulled back her blazer sleeve and showed Lucy the time on her watch.
“Gotta go,” said Lucy, getting to her feet. “Give Maggie my love.”
“Say hi to Erika. Tell her I’m coming over with scotch this Saturday. Otherwise, I never see her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.” Lucy gave Liz a quick kiss.
“I’m going to remember that one, Lucy. If this virus comes to town, we may not be able to do that for a while. Not even shake hands.”
“Oh, I’m going to miss that,” said Lucy.
“You especially. You’re the most affectionate person I know.”
Lucy headed toward the door. “Keep up the good work!” she called to the singers in the choir loft before she left.
***
Cherie was waiting in the anteroom to Lucy’s office. She looked especially attractive today in a heather-blue sweater that complemented her unique coloring.
“Come in, Cherie,” said Lucy, opening the door to her office.
Cherie closed the book she was reading and followed her.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who still reads paper books,” said Lucy as she took her seat behind the desk.
“Yes, there are a few of us. This is an old book from college. The Plague by Albert Camus. Dr. Stolz suggested I read it again.”
Lucy nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, my wife suggested I read it too. Is it good?”
“It’s a philosopher’s look at a pandemic. Very interesting. I’ll lend it to you when I’m done.”
“Yes, please, if you don’t mind.”
Lucy closed her laptop so it wouldn’t be a distraction during the session. “This is our fifth session. That’s all I’m allowed for pastoral counseling. We have two options going forward. I can take you on as a client in my practice, or we can continue talking as friends.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you or the parish. My insurance will pay.”
Lucy liked that answer because it spoke to Cherie’s character. She did things by the book, unlike her boss, who never met a rule she liked.
“You’re not still worried about Dr. Stolz finding out?”
Cherie shook her head. “It’s fine.”
“Okay. Remind me to get your information when we’re done today.”
Lucy sat back in her chair to make a quick evaluation of the physical state of her client. As always, Cherie was dressed attractively and carefully made up. She looked perfectly professional.
“How was your week?” asked Lucy.
Cherie flashed a quick grin and rolled her eyes. “Very interesting.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, I followed your advice. I asked to see Brenda when she was off-duty.”
“You mean you asked her out on a date? Good for you!”
“Well, it wasn’t meant to be a date. Just an experiment, you know. But she took it as an invitation to a date.”
Lucy chuckled. “Saved you the trouble of explaining your intentions. So, good. You went from zero to sixty like that.” Lucy snapped her fingers. “And how did it go?”
“It was a disaster.”
“Oh, no!” Lucy exclaimed. “What went wrong?”
Cherie sighed. “She took me to a country-western bar called The Eagle’s Nest. Not a good scene.”
“I’ve been there. Very loud. Full of sweaty, smelly men with beards.”
Cherie gave her a curious look. Yes, it probably didn’t seem li
ke a place a former opera singer would frequent. “I like country music,” explained Lucy. “So does Maggie Fitzgerald. We go up there sometimes when there’s a band we like.”
“Two gorgeous women alone? Do they hit on you?”
“Of course!” said Lucy with faux indignation.
“Aren’t you intimidated?”
“Honey, I have a brown belt. I’m not afraid.”
Cherie laughed. “You never cease to amaze me, Mother Lucy.”
Lucy took it as a compliment. “I amaze myself sometimes,” she admitted candidly.
“A very drunk man sat down at our table when Brenda went to the ladies’ room. He was really obnoxious. When she came back, it almost came to blows. She had to flash her badge and reach for her gun. She didn’t draw it, of course, but I saw it.”
“And that triggered you.”
“Yes. I broke out in a cold sweat. I had trouble breathing.”
Lucy let out a big sigh. “We’ll have to figure out how to help you get over the gun thing, especially if you’re dating a police chief.” She pursed her lips and gazed out the window while she thought. “I’m going to tell you something personal because I think my solution could help you.” She paused to make sure she had Cherie’s attention. “I was date raped.”
“No! That’s terrible!”
“Yes, it is, but I ended up with Emily, and that’s just some of the good that came out of it. I was also called to be a priest.”
“But how did you overcome the trauma?”
“Years of therapy. The love of a very dear woman who helped me find my way back to God. One thing she suggested made a big difference in my recovery. “ She paused for effect. “I began martial arts training. That helped me feel strong. It helped me feel I had some control. Suddenly, I felt less like a victim. Instead, I was a big, powerful Amazon.” Lucy pumped herself up in imitation of a bodybuilder.
Cherie laughed. “Mother Lucy, you’re so tiny, but you’re right. You are powerful. How does this apply to me?”
“Master the thing that frightens you.”
Cherie took a moment to consider the idea. “How?”
“Well, if you’re afraid of guns, you could take Liz Stolz’s firearms class. She teaches one just for women. Or, more romantically, you could ask Brenda to teach you how to shoot.”
Cherie looked stricken at the suggestion. “I don’t know…”
“Okay, maybe that’s too much. Start with Liz’s class. I took it. It helped me get over my fear of guns. And believe me, they terrified me. Now, I have a healthy respect for them, but they don’t scare me half to death.”
Cherie shook her head. “I don’t know if I could do that. I’m not saying it’s a bad idea….”
“Just think about it.”
“Okay. I will. But there’s also the problem of the uniform. When Brenda’s not in uniform, I feel perfectly comfortable with her. I see her as just another woman. That’s not true,” said Cherie with a shy look. “I see her as a very attractive, sexy woman.”
“And that’s great. She is...attractive and sexy.”
“But I don’t know how I’ll react when I see her wearing that damn uniform.”
Lucy thought for a moment. “Some women find uniforms a turn on.”
Cherie looked impatient. “That’s never been one of my fetishes.”
“Yes, but think about what certain uniforms suggest: authority, strength, power, discipline. Used for good, those are all good qualities. If you hadn’t been traumatized by a policeman, Brenda’s uniform could be sexy.”
Cherie’s frown relaxed. She looked thoughtful. “It was a turn-on when she came to my defense and flashed her badge. I felt protected and cared for. Not in the moment, of course. I was too scared, but later when I was remembering it.”
“What if Brenda wore another kind of uniform? A military or pilot’s uniform. Would you still hate it?
“No, it’s only the police uniform.”
“That’s because you have bad memories of the night your sister was killed. What if you made new memories?”
“How?”
“Cherie, let’s get creative here. What else can you do when you see Brenda in her uniform?”
“You mean, besides run and hide?”
Lucy nodded enthusiastically and waved her hands toward herself as if they were playing charades. “Come on. What would you like to do with Brenda if you could?”
“Kiss her?”
“Good way to start. What comes next?”
“Undress her…”
“Yes!” said Lucy, throwing up her arms triumphantly. “Another way of taking control of the thing that scares you.”
“Mother Lucy, you are full of surprises!”
Lucy let out an enormous sigh. “Unfortunately, people say that all the time.”
“People don’t usually expect priests to talk about sex.”
Lucy wagged her finger. “See? Now that’s a big misconception. Priests have to talk about sex more than you might think. I counsel couples who are going to marry. Women come in here with marital problems. You know. You’re a therapist. And sex is really important to intimacy. It should be talked about openly.”
Cherie shook her head. “Undress a cop. Now, why didn’t I think of that?”
Chapter Eleven
Liz tried not let her disapproval show while Cherie gave her report on the stock of personal protective equipment at the town agencies. The police department’s request was on backorder. The fire department hadn’t done a thing, still waiting for budget approval. Only the ambulance corps had full stock.
“That’s the best I could do, Dr. Stolz. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Cherie. I know you’re doing your best. How’s it going with Chief Harrison? Is she being helpful?”
Cherie glanced away. “Yes.”
Liz tried to read what that meant. She hadn’t heard anything since she’d recommended the wine as a peace offering. For all she knew, things between them could be worse.
“Brenda has a good head on her shoulders,” said Liz. “She made it to lieutenant in one of New York’s toughest precincts.”
“Yes, she told me.” That statement spoke volumes. At least, they were speaking.
“Okay,” said Liz to wind down the meeting. “Let’s keep after these people. They won’t do what we need them to do unless we push them. You got this?”
Cherie closed her iPad. “Yes, Doctor, you can count on me.”
“Good. If you need me to step in here, let me know. Now, is there anything I can do to help you?”
Cherie’s eyes focused intently on hers. “Tell me how to sign up for your gun class.”
Liz was so startled she couldn’t modulate her reaction fast enough. “Well, that’s certainly not what I expected,” Liz admitted candidly. “Why? Are you thinking of getting a gun?”
“No. I want to get over my fear of guns.”
Liz exhaled a long breath. In every class there were a few people, mostly women, who were taking it solely to get over their fear. They were usually difficult students, who required a lot of personal attention and literally, handholding.
“The schedule is on the fish and game website, but I won’t be teaching any classes until July. The indoor range is closed for renovations.” Liz glanced out the window. It was a nice day, warm for March. “We still have a couple of hours of daylight. I’m done for today. Would you like to go to the range?”
“You mean now?” ”
“Why not? Classes are great, but it’s easier to learn to shoot one-on-one, especially if you’re anxious. There’s no peer pressure.”
“Well…okay,” Cherie said uncertainly.
Liz scrutinized her. “I don’t want to force you if you’re not ready. Maybe you should take some time to think about it.”
C
herie’s face registered determination. “No, the sooner the better.”
Liz unlocked the cabinet where she kept her gun in a special purse with a holster in the side pocket. “We need to swing by the house first and pick up a few things. Let’s go.”
Cherie was silent while they rode to the house. Liz could practically feel her anxiety as Cherie stared straight ahead, limbs rigid, her hands gripping her knees so tightly the knuckles were white.
“What made you decide to do this?” Liz finally asked to break the silence.
“It was Mother Lucy’s suggestion.”
Liz barked a little laugh. “I should have known! Lucy always comes up with the most unorthodox solutions.”
“She thinks if I can learn to handle a gun, I will be less anxious around them.”
Liz nodded thoughtfully. “There’s something to that idea, and it does work. In fact, I’ve made my whole life about getting over my anxiety.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was a kid about seven, I had an accident. I was playing with my brothers and put my arm through a glass door. That was in the days before they used tempered or safety glass. When I pulled my arm back, the glass sliced open my arm from the wrist to the elbow right down to the bone. The cut came within millimeters of the radial artery. I could have bled out on the spot.”
“I’ve seen that long scar on your arm and wondered where it came from,” said Cherie.
“My mother became paralyzed by the sight of me lying on the kitchen floor, blood everywhere. All she could do was stare in horror. Fortunately, we had a housekeeper who had some nursing experience. She knew to put pressure on the wound. She was able to calm my mother enough to drive me to the doctor. He closed the wound in his office with only novocaine for anesthesia. I remember every suture…all twenty-two of them.”
“Wow. That must have been painful,” Cherie said, grimacing.
“Believe me, it was, but that was just the beginning. As I was growing up, I witnessed other instances when I couldn’t count on adults to deal with health emergencies. I became a world-class hypochondriac. Every small symptom became the reason for a panic attack. I think that’s the reason I studied medicine…to have some control over my health.”