He shrugged. He’d lost his father. His best friend. His confidant. It was to be expected.
“Which is why …” Sophie stood and pushed the chair back to the table. “You’re coming with me.” She gestured for Brad to stand.
“Soph …”
“Brad …” She mimicked his whine before he grudgingly heaved to his feet.
Tucking her arm around his, Sophie led him out the front door and to her car. “There’s no chance I’m letting you run away like you did at Dad’s funeral.”
Yeah. That day was permanently etched into his brain. His actions had gone down like a lead balloon. Mum had been hysterical when he’d run from the cemetery. He needed to, or else he would’ve lashed out at someone with all that pent-up emotion. He’d felt terrible later, but at the time, he’d given no thought to anyone else. After roaring at the ocean, he’d felt somewhat better. Until Abigail admonished him for being disrespectful.
He processed things differently from the females in his family. He wasn’t able to voice his emotions as they could, and he didn’t expect them to understand the bond he’d shared with their father, the only person who fully understood him. He only wished they would leave him alone to deal with things on his own terms. Even if that way didn’t meet their expectations and was sending him into a downward spiral of self-destruction.
Chapter 9
Tucking one hand into the pocket of his jeans, Brad scrutinized the stained-glass window behind the small podium at the front of the chapel. A small timber cross sat on top of a glass shelf covered with a lace runner. Soft instrumental music played from a speaker somewhere in the room. Chairs were set in a semi-circle facing the front pew, and a handful of people mingled around clutching styrofoam cups.
“Go on.” Sophie elbowed his side, nudging him forward. “You’ll be fine.”
“You’re coming with me, right?”
“I’ll stay this time.”
This time? She was talking like there would be a second time. Which there wouldn’t be. These things were awful, not that he’d been to one before. But the idea of sitting around talking about his problems with a group of strangers didn’t appeal to him. Nor did he want to hear other people talk about theirs.
“I don’t know …” His gaze shifted over the group again. A mix of young and old with serious faces.
“Welcome, everyone.” A soft voice, like liquid honey, floated from the front of the room. Turning his head, he sucked in a breath and froze. Hannah? No, surely not.
“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked as she hooked her arm through his and led him to the chairs. This was the worst. Of all people, why her? Maybe he could make a run for it before the session started. He didn’t want this gorgeous woman knowing how much of a failure he was, and that he couldn’t deal with life.
“Nothing.” Brad kept his eyes fixed on the ground. The red and green swirls through the carpet, along with the green chairs in the room, reminded him of Christmas, and he wondered who chose such ugly colours. Tones of blue or grey would be much better suited to a hospital chapel. Something to invoke peace, not make people feel on edge. But it wasn’t just the décor making him feel antsy. It was the fact that one of his clients was leading the group. He’d been weighing up the idea of sharing, but there was no way he was opening up now. Crossing an ankle over his knee, he clasped his hands on his lap, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else.
“Thanks, everyone, for coming this evening. I’m Hannah …”
Brad’s thoughts drifted as she went around the circle, asking everyone’s names.
“I’m Sophie Tolbrook.” A sharp elbow to his ribs from his sister gained his attention.
“Brad.” He nodded, meeting Hannah’s gaze for a brief moment before looking away. Recognition dawned in her eyes, and her words faltered, ever-so-slightly, before she turned her attention to the rest of the group and continued talking.
Brad didn’t take notice of any other names in the group. His attention was consumed by the attractive shrink and the calming tone of her voice as she began talking about the five stages of grief.
“You’ve all come here for a reason tonight,” Hannah continued. “Grief affects people in many different ways, and everyone processes it differently. However, there are five stages we all go through. Even if you went through the same circumstances as someone else, you may be at a different stage in the grieving process. No matter where you’re at, I want to encourage you that this is a safe place. There are no right or wrong answers. There are no right or wrong emotions. What you feel is unique to you and your experience, and I am here to help walk you through this time.”
Hannah’s smooth, silky voice hypnotised Brad. He’d never known anyone with such a gentle manner. Her soft smile as she made eye contact with each person in the group was genuine and full of kindness. His skin prickled as her gaze landed on him, and he froze like a deer in headlights as her mossy greens shone with compassion.
Over the next few minutes, he heard stories of spouses passing away, the loss of a child, which clogged up his throat and made his heart ache, and the passing of a sibling.
“Brad?” Hannah’s soft smile and green eyes floored him, but he wasn’t going to share. Nope. Not among strangers, and certainly not in front of her.
Tight-lipped, he shook his head.
“That’s okay. Whenever you’re ready. There’s never any pressure to share.”
Which was just as well, because there was no way he was going to. Didn’t need to. As he’d said to Sophie, he’d be fine. In his own time.
Brad jiggled his foot to relieve the rising swirl of anxiety in his chest. He loosened the collar of his shirt as his throat constricted. As soon as Hannah concluded the evening, he skirted through the chairs, dashed out of the chapel and strode through the hospital into the balmy evening. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he paced in front of the hospital entrance, ignoring the clouds of smoke from the group congregated on the lawn as they puffed on their cigarettes. Attached to various machines with their hospital gowns blowing in the breeze, he shook his head at the irony. Ignoring the buzzing of his phone in his pocket, he continued walking.
He probably looked like he needed to be committed to the psych ward as he paced back and forth on the path, making the automatic doors open and close every time he walked past. Security would probably come out soon and tell him to move on.
As he paced, Hannah’s words swirled through his mind like a whirlpool. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. What a load of crock. Who came up with this stuff? It was all well and good for her to sit there looking so put-together. With hints of auburn shining through her brown hair and her alabaster skin so flawless beneath the recessed lights of the chapel, she was the epitome of perfection. What did she know about death and losing a loved one? Probably nothing. A university degree couldn’t prepare anyone for the searing pain of loss or the dense fog of disbelief that followed. He was furious at Sophie for dragging him there. He’d promised to stay, and he had. But he wasn’t going to sit through another session like that again. No, thank you.
And he certainly didn’t need to be told how to manage his grief from someone who looked like they’d never shed a tear in their life.
Chapter 10
Hannah gathered the stack of brochures from the table by the chapel entrance as the last person left for the evening. The grief and bereavement group hadn’t gone too bad. But, as with everything she did, she wondered how she could improve. How could she attract more people to the group? Miles and Stacey had already done the flyer drop around town. Perhaps some posters around the shopping centres and flyers in the medical centre might be another option.
Six people for a group session was a good start, though. Most sessions ran between eight to twelve people, so she was pleased with the numbers. She reflected on those in attendance. The silver-haired widow who’d lost her husband of forty-two years. The husband and wife who’d lost their teenage son to cancer. The man whose
brother had passed away. The blonde, who looked vaguely familiar, who’d accompanied Brad. Brooding Brad. He’d looked at the ground all night, only briefly meeting her gaze. She’d seen the hurt before his icy façade slipped into place. From the moment he walked into the chapel, it had been obvious he didn’t want to be there. His folded arms. Hostile glare. Tense jaw. The woman with him had done her best to encourage his participation. Then he’d up and left as though the building were on fire before she had a chance to chat with him.
At the previous hospital she’d worked at, she always mingled after sessions to chat with the clients and show she was approachable, and not some aloof therapist out of touch with the reality of grief. She’d experienced that type of therapist after losing her family and fiancé, and she vowed never to show disregard or indifference to her clients. The impassionate and apathetic attitude she received from her first counsellor resulted in more harm than good. And she still carried the emotional scars from those few sessions.
With one last glance around the room, Hannah grabbed her belongings and closed the door to the chapel. Her ballet flats echoed across the quiet lobby, and she waved goodbye to the night clerk behind the desk.
“Excuse me.” A woman’s voice carried to her as the automatic doors swished open. The blonde-haired woman from the group stepped out of the shadows. “Hi. Sorry. I’m Sophie. I was just in your meeting.”
Hannah nodded, tightening her grip on the straps of her satchel. A quick glance around the vicinity assured her the duress alarm was within distance, security cameras were conspicuously located, and there were other people walking through the grounds. This woman, despite the tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves and the silver nose stud sparkling beneath the fluorescent light, didn’t seem threatening. Where had she seen her before tonight? She was usually so good with faces and names, but she couldn’t recall meeting someone named Sophie.
“I’m a nurse in the ER.”
“Oh, of course.” Hannah tapped her hand to her forehead. “Now that you mention it, I saw you the other day when Miles Bartram was showing me around.”
“I’m sorry to accost you like this.” Sophie shot her a timid smile. “I won’t keep you long, because I know you probably just want to get home to your family.”
Hannah smiled at her friendly manner. She wasn’t about to divulge that she, in fact, had no family to go home to. No family at all, except for an aunt and two cousins who lived on the other side of the country. Two years on from the worst day in her life, and the wound still festered. The fact that she’d been orphaned in an instant wasn’t something she shared upon first meeting someone.
“It’s fine,” Hannah reassured. Only Louie would be waiting for her.
Sophie ran her shoe over a crack in the pavement. “I wanted to apologise for the way my brother ran out tonight.” So, she wasn’t Brad’s wife or girlfriend. His sister.
“That’s okay,” Hannah replied. “Sometimes support groups can be quite confronting and overwhelming.”
“Brad’s certainly one who doesn’t like being confronted.” Sophie’s gaze drifted somewhere over Hannah’s shoulder before she met her eyes again. “He’s going through some stuff, but trying to do it alone, and not being very successful. He doesn’t like anyone getting too close.”
Hannah understood. Sometimes it was easier to build walls and hide from the rest of the world than try to deal with people’s questions, best intentions or sympathy. But long-term, hiding behind the walls of self-preservation wasn’t healthy. She’d been there. Done that. And it had only been through her friendship with Tania, a good counsellor, and unceasing prayer, that she’d let her own barriers down to allow healing to begin to take place.
“Many people feel that way,” Hannah said gently. “He’s welcome to come back any time he feels up to it. I also work at Liberty House where we run private sessions if it’s too overwhelming for him to be in a group.” Brad knew that, though, and she wondered if he would actually seek her out to make an appointment.
Relief washed over Sophie’s features. “Thank you for your understanding. I’d really like him to get help. Again, I’m sorry to ambush you on your way home. I wanted to firstly apologise for my brother’s rudeness, and also let you know that it was nothing you did.”
Hannah waved her apology away with a smile. “It was lovely to meet you, Sophie. I’m sure we’ll probably cross paths again if we’re both in the ER.” The thought of making a new friend filled her with a glimmer of hope that she would be able to put down new roots. But as she watched the other woman walk away, all the memories of her own grief came flooding back.
The heart-stopping moment she’d opened the front door two years ago to find police on her doorstep. The moment she’d crumpled to the floor at the news that her parents, her brother and her fiancé had all been killed. Her family, taken from her in an instant. The soul-crushing pain. The numbness. The anger that ensued. As though a dam had burst its banks, the memories came flooding back, along with a torrent of tears.
Swiping her eyes, she managed the short drive home through the darkened streets. With his tail wagging, Louie met her at the front door and eagerly placed puppy dog kisses over her legs. She smiled, and her grief was momentarily forgotten as she gathered his head between her hands and rubbed noses with her loyal pup.
After making a cup of tea, Hannah settled on the couch. A reading lamp illuminated the darkened house while Louie snuggled into her side, resting his head on her lap. Mindlessly, she stroked his back, staring out the window into the darkness of night.
It was probably too late to call Tania. Then again, she didn’t really want to, because she’d only be a mess on the phone. It was moments like these that she felt it. The void of emptiness opening up. The reality that she was all alone in the world, while everyone else went home to their happy families. She’d been there once and had embraced the anticipation of a bright future. But all of that had been taken from her. Snuffed out in an instant.
How people navigated grief without God’s help, she didn’t know. It was only by clinging to God and His promises that she was able to see the sun’s rays piercing through her dark clouds of grief. She knew her family, and Josh, were healed and whole, and now dancing with Jesus. Yet it didn’t stop the sadness from creeping in. Especially when she was tired, or when moments like tonight triggered a memory.
She’d questioned God many times over the years. Had wrestled with the unfairness of her loss. She knew His love was real, and yet, in the still moments of the night, her heart broke open all over again.
Blinking away her tears, she hugged Louie tight. Her thoughts turned to Brad and how he’d raced out of the chapel. How she’d failed to reach through his heavily constructed walls. She’d never had someone run out before. Was she even cut out for this career path? How could she help people through their grief when she was still dealing with her own?
Chapter 11
Pulling into the driveway of Liberty House, Hannah couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips at the sight of the lawn. Or what used to be the lawn but was now a mess of dirt and uprooted grass. Sorrowful eyes flashed through her mind as she thought of the handsome landscaper who’d muddled his dates. To see him at the grief counselling session had surprised her, for want of a better word. He’d given off some serious ‘leave me alone’ vibes, and she wondered what he’d be like this morning after having a few days grace period. Would he be embarrassed? Would he acknowledge her? Would he pretend nothing happened?
She wouldn’t bring it up or ask why he’d run away. She’d learned early on in her career that people needed to come to the decision to accept help on their own terms.
Dropping her bag on the desk, Hannah eyed the spacious waiting room. The pops of colour with potted plants in the corners and abstract artwork on the walls created a calming environment, and even though it was still early days, she felt peaceful about her decision to move here.
She’d had the weekend to unwind and reflect o
n her counselling session at the hospital, and her mini-breakdown afterwards. An hour-long conversation with her bestie, plenty of walks along the water with Louie, and quiet times in prayer had given her clarity that yes, she’d made the right decision to move to Sandwater Bay, and her meltdown was part of the natural process of moving forward. She was still learning to swim in the ocean of grief and trusting God to carry her when she was tossed by the waves.
With no clients due for some time, Hannah began setting up the consulting rooms for the day. As she grabbed a few boxes of tissues from a store cupboard, the rumble of an engine drew her attention. Peeking through the slats of the blinds, she smiled at the black ute parked at the kerb. Brad lumbered down from the cab and moved to the rear of the ute where he began unloading his equipment. His eyes were shielded by sunglasses, and his face was mostly in shadow from his cap. Methodical in his movements, his muscles shifted beneath his blue collared shirt as he carted equipment to the yard. He made the work look so easy. Drawing a deep breath, Hannah allowed the blind to fall back into place. She needed to focus on her to-do list and not on the guy working in the yard.
Barbara had phoned saying she’d be back later in the week. Her daughter had an emergency trip to the hospital, and she was staying to mind the grandchildren. Dismissing the twinge of loss that crept in that she would never have that privilege, or luxury, of calling on her own mother, Hannah sat down at the computer and caught up with patient files for the week.
With Lexie due back the following day, she enjoyed the quiet of the office as she worked. With some music playing quietly, she managed to catch up on her charting before a knock at the door startled her from her focus.
Crossing the room, she saw Brad standing on the other side of the screen door.
“Good morning,” she said, opening the door. “It’s Monday.”
Remnants of the Heart (Winds of Change Book 3) Page 5