Rob lay on the sofa, remote in hand, channel surfing.
Jane reached over the sofa and snatched the remote, shutting off the TV. “No TV right now. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. Kristi, put that phone away, please.”
“But Mom….” both kids said at once.
Jane continued through to the kitchen.
Mitch set the shopping bags down by the tree. “Jane, do you need help out there?” he called.
She peered around the doorway. “Since when do you help me with breakfast?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought….” He didn’t know exactly what he thought. He was feeling like a guest in his own home and that bothered him. He swatted at Rob’s feet for him to move and dropped down on the end of the sofa.
Rob began to snore softly. Kristi continued to text on her phone. Mitch wondered what it was he used to do during these Christmas mornings. He started to reach for the remote, then glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Folding his hands together in his lap, he sat as if waiting for an appointment with his dentist.
Jane returned and jostled Rob. “Wake up, sleepy head. Breakfast is served.”
Mitch stood and followed his children into the dining room, heading automatically for his usual seat. Once everyone was seated, Jane looked at him expectantly. It took him a few seconds to realize what she expected. He’d always been the one to say grace at meals.
He reached out to join hands with his son on his right and daughter on his left—linked to Jane by the hands of their children. This is how they’d always be linked. He stumbled through an awkward prayer of thanks, avoiding words like home and family.
The food had all been passed around and they’d just begun to eat when Kristi set down her fork, pushed her plate back and leaned on the table. “Rob and I have been discussing the situation.”
Mitch looked up and caught Jane’s gaze. She looked like a deer in headlights—probably the same way he looked.
“What situation?” Jane asked.
“Duh. You and Daddy. We’re not kids any more, Mom. We expect the two of you to treat us as adults and be honest with us.” Her chin trembled and her eyes shone. She cleared her throat before continuing. “If you two are getting divorced, we have a right to know.”
“Uh…we…um…. We haven’t talked about a divorce.” Jane looked to Mitch, her eyes pleading for help.
Mitch covered his daughter’s hand with his own. “Kristi, your mom and I aren’t getting a divorce. We haven’t even considered it.”
“But you’re separated. That’s always the first step. Unless you’re talking to someone. A counselor. How do you think you can work things out if you don’t talk about the issues?”
Mitch blinked. When had his daughter become a rational adult? “You might be right.” He shifted his gaze to Jane. “Maybe we should consider talking with a counselor.”
Kristi and Rob grinned across the table at one another. She nodded at Rob who then produced two small white envelopes, passing one to Mitch and the other to Jane. “Merry Christmas, Mom. Dad.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s our gift to you,” Kristi said. “We arranged for an appointment with a marriage counselor. For Tuesday.”
Mitch opened the envelope and a business card dropped out. The raised lettering on the front read: Rose Llewellyn, Ph.D., Certified Marriage and Family Therapist. He turned the card over to find an appointment scheduled for Tuesday, December 28th at 11:00 a.m.
He looked up and into the widened eyes of Jane.
Rob looked from one to the other, then said, “Don’t both of you thank us at once. You’re welcome.”
“I don’t quite know what to say.” Mitch turned the card over and over as if expecting it to change. “I’m not sure the timing is….”
“We’ll go. Thank you.” Jane locked her gaze on him as if daring him to argue. “I’m sorry we’ve worried you both. This is something we should have done ourselves.”
Kristi reached for her mother’s hand and then took hold of Mitch’s. “Counseling can be a scary thing at first but, trust me, it can only help.”
“Trust you? Are you saying you’ve been to counseling?” Mitch’s voice rose an octave by the time he finished the question.
“Daddy, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. College can be overwhelming and sometimes you just need someone to talk to about…things.”
Rob gulped down the last of juice. “Can I watch TV now until we’re ready to open gifts? Or are we gonna do more of the Dr. Phil show here?”
“You’re excused,” Jane said. Then turning her attention back to Kristi, she said, “Honey, I didn’t know you were having a hard time at school.”
“Everyone has a hard time at school that first semester. So I spoke with one of the counselor’s on campus and it was very helpful. I’m seriously considering a major in psychology.” A dreamy smile pulled across her face. “Gage…er…Doctor Young says I’d be a natural.”
“Dr. Jung?” Jane asked.
Kristi laughed. “No, Dr. Young. He’s one of the therapists who staff the counseling office on campus. He’s so smart and it’s like he can see right through you. He really helped me understand that college is about so much more than studying.”
Jane gasped. “What does Dr. Young think college is about?”
“It’s about growing up, being on your own, making your own decisions and taking responsibility for yourself. Really, Mom, if you knew half of what goes on at campus and in the dorms, you’d freak. But Gage says college is a time to experiment.”
Mitch felt his jaw clench. “Experiment how? Who the hell is this quack?”
“Daddy, he’s not a quack. He’s very wise for his age.”
“Yeah, just what exactly is his age?”
“He’s twenty-nine.”
“Don’t they have any women counselors on campus?”
Kristi glared at him. “Of course. But they’re both ancient. They’re like, well, your age. I needed a younger perspective.”
Mitch sat back in his chair absorbing the fact that, to his nineteen year old daughter, he was ancient. When he glanced up, he saw a smirk play across Jane’s face.
Kristi stood. “I knew you were going to freak out when I told you about Gage. But, Mom, you understand. I mean, you write about this stuff. You’ll love Gage. He’s so sophisticated and handsome and romantic.”
The smirk on Jane’s face was replaced by a frown. “What do you mean we’ll love Gage?”
Kristi picked up her plate and glass to carry it to the kitchen. “I invited him for New Year’s Eve. He said he’d love to meet you both.” She stopped in the doorway and turned toward them. “I’m going upstairs to give him a call. Let me know when we’re ready to open gifts.”
Jane sat back in her chair looking as deflated as Mitch felt.
Mitch huffed out a deep breath. “I’m calling the President of the University first thing tomorrow.”
“They’re on break, Mitch. He won’t be there.”
“Well I’m calling someone. Isn’t there some ethical issue here with the counselor dating his patient?”
“I don’t now,” Jane said wearily. “But did you see her face? Mitch, we have to be very careful here. She’s in love, or she thinks she is. If we over-react, it’ll only push her away.”
“Oh, I’m going to over-react. Wait until Dr. Young gets here for New Year’s. I’ll over-react his ass right back out the door and in front of whatever disciplinary board I can find.” He looked up to find Jane staring at him, her eyes glistening. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything violent. And I’ll try not to embarrass Kristi.”
“I know. You’re such a good father. You know that, right? Regardless of….” She held up the appointment card. “I think we should go to this appointment.”
He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “We don’t need some stranger to tell us about our marriage, do we? Besides, I thought we were getting along pre
tty well now.”
When she didn’t respond, he opened his eyes.
Jane leaned forward on the table and hissed, “It figures. You think just because we had…” She glanced around, then continued, “…sex, now everything is fine.”
“That’s not what I said.” And it hadn’t been, though it was what he thought. Why would she have sex with him if he wasn’t forgiven? And what exactly was it he’d done that required forgiveness?
Jane stood and noisily began to collect the plates from table. “Let’s not do this now. It’s Christmas.”
Mitch rose and picked up cups and glasses, following her into the kitchen. He watched while she rinsed the dishes and stacked them into the dishwasher.
Jane closed the dishwasher, switched it on, and then turned to face him. In a measured voice, she said, “I think we just need to go on with our day. We can’t do a thing about this Dr. Young right now. I’ll try to talk to Kristi later, get more information about him. For now, let’s call the kids down and open Christmas presents. Act normal.”
She moved past him and down the hall to call for Kristi.
‘Act normal?’ How in the hell was he supposed to do that? There was nothing normal about any of this. He dragged his fingers through his hair, realizing he needed a haircut. Their lives had become anything but normal. He’d lost his job and didn’t have a clue what to do next. His marriage was hanging by a slender thread that seemed to be fraying fast. His son had become insolent and moody. His daughter thought she was in love with her school counselor who, apparently, was playing with her affections. And he was living—alone—in a crappy little apartment his son even hated to visit.
He snatched up the business card from the dining table. And he had an appointment for marital therapy. The TV in the living room went silent, then Elvis crooned, “I-I’ll have a blue Christmas without you.”
Mitch jammed the card into this pocket and, shoulders drooping, headed for the living room.
Chapter Eighteen
Dr. Rose Llewellyn was a tall, slender woman with shoulder-length dark hair streaked with the beginnings of gray. She bore a pleasant smile as she greeted them and ushered them into her office. “We only have a short time today. I was able to fit you in between appointments. Dr. Young made the referral and said it was rather urgent.” She moved to a chair and motioned for them sit take the sofa.
“It’s not that urgent.” Mitch grasped at the opportunity for escape. “We could come back another time. After the first of the year.”
Jane glared at him and then shifted her gaze. “We’ve been separated for the past two and a half months. Our daughter asked Dr. Young for the referral. I think both of our kids are worried.”
Mitch lowered himself to the sofa. “It’s not like we fight or anything. They shouldn’t be worried.”
Ignoring him, Jane continued, “We’ve gone through some changes in the past few years. I began writing and my books took off. I spend a lot more time in my office with fictional characters and I think Mitch feels threatened by that.”
Rose’s expectant stare shifted to Mitch.
He squirmed. “I don’t feel threatened. I’ve supported your writing from day one. You know that.”
“Yes, at first, you did. Then when I tried to talk things through, get some feedback, you got all moody.”
“Talk things through? You started to make me over into those impossible heroes of yours.” His face colored as he turned toward Rose. “She wanted me to wear an earring, for Pete’s sake.”
“Just a clip on,” Jane said with exasperation.
“What caused the separation?” Rose asked.
Mitch remained silent.
Jane said, “Well, go ahead. Tell her. While you’re at it, tell me.”
“You know why I left.”
“Mr. Devereaux. Mitch, I don’t know why you left. Can you tell me?” Rose sat back in her chair.
“We were in the middle of…. She….” Heat warmed his neck and ears. “This is embarrassing.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And what is said in this room stays here,” the therapist reassured.
Mitch stood and paced. “She stopped right in the middle of sex to give me directions.”
“I see. It’s not unusual for a woman to let a man know what pleases her.”
“It wasn’t like that. She was taking notes.”
They both stared at Jane for a response. She cleared her throat. “I fail to see why it’s such a big deal that I jot down a few notes when the ideas strike. Writing is difficult. Even fiction has to ring true. So what if we’re having sex and I get an idea that will work for my characters—or not?”
“Mitch, would you sit down, please?” The therapist leaned forward. “How was your sex life before all of this?”
“It was fine,” Mitch said.
At the same time, Jane said, “It was okay.”
Mitch recoiled. “Okay? Just okay?”
“You can be so overly sensitive. I meant it wasn’t bad. It was, well, okay. Good, most of the time.”
“Most of the time? This is the first I’m hearing this. Please, go on. Tell me how you’ve suffered for the past twenty years, because this is news to me.”
“Don’t be dramatic. I haven’t ‘suffered.’ But once I started writing spicy novels, I realized our marriage could use a little spice. Excuse me for trying to make our bedroom a little more exciting.”
“So I’m not exciting enough for you?”
“I never said that.”
The therapist’s head swiveled back and forth as if she were watching the U.S. Open.
“That’s exactly what you said.” He turned to Rose. “Isn’t that what she just said?”
Rose hesitated and then replied, “I think what’s important here is how you hear what your wife says.”
“Or that he doesn’t hear me at all,” Jane muttered.
Mitch glared first at Jane, then at Rose. “I’m feeling just a little ganged up on here. I don’t think this is going to work.”
“It will only work if we can all be honest,” Rose said. “I assure you I don’t take sides.” She turned her attention to Jane. “Have you often used your marriage as a template for your books?”
“Not at all. As I said, I write spicy romance. You know, chiseled, sexy heroes and lusty, busty heroines who have wild sex several times a night. It’s not real. I mean, who lives like that? We certainly don’t.”
Mitch snorted.
“But when I discover something that doesn’t exactly work well for the human body, I have to jot it down and make sure I don’t use that move in a book.”
“Tell me more about the earring.” Rose sat back again in her high-backed leather chair and swiveled slowly.
“I was writing a book with a historical sub-plot. I needed a pirate, so I simply asked my husband to clip on an earring and dress the part for me, so I could get into character. We’ve done this dozens of times. I thought he enjoyed the role play.”
“Some men do, but not all. Did you ask him?”
“I did. He fussed a little at first, but then he went along with it. If he was so put out by the idea, why didn’t he say something?”
Mitch cleared his throat. “May I remind you both that he is sitting right here?”
Jane turned to him. “Fine. Mitch, have my requests of you to play a character role when we make love been uncomfortable for you?”
This stopped him. If he said, “Yes,” he would look like a wimp who couldn’t stand up for himself. If he said, “No,” he would deflate his own argument. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes? Which times?” Jane pressed.
Rose leaned forward. “I’m afraid we have to stop for today. I wish we had more time. I’d like to schedule another appointment and give you a homework assignment to do in the meantime.”
“Homework?” Mitch asked.
“Yes. I want you to schedule a time when the two of you can talk privately, with no interruption, for at least
one hour. Not out in public. Set a timer and each of you gets twenty minutes to talk about what has been good in your marriage. You can’t interrupt one another during that time. With the last twenty minutes, do something else. Talk a walk. Have a cup of coffee together. Something you both enjoy. Just do not talk about issues between you. Can you do this?”
“Yes, I can.” Jane nodded.
“I can, but I don’t see the point.”
Rose nodded. “Then you’ll have to trust me.” She reached back and pulled a small black appointment calendar from her desk. “How about next Monday, that’s the fifth, at two o’clock?”
“I have nothing else to do,” Mitch said.
Jane nodded. “I’ll be here.”
The therapist gave them each an appointment card and ushered them to an exit door that led directly into the hall. “I hope you both have a Happy New Year.”
“It should be interesting with Dr. Young joining us,” Mitch said.
Rose Llewellyn frowned. “Dr. Young is coming to your house for New Year’s Eve?”
Jane sighed. “Kristi is—involved with him. She thinks she’s in love.”
“Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like Gage.”
“Why not?” Jane asked.
“Because the Gage Young I know is happily married with two kids.”
“What?” Mitch whirled around. “He’s married?”
“I haven’t talked to Gage for several months, but the last time I did, he was very happily married. I can’t imagine that changed in such a short time.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Mitch muttered.
Jane grabbed his arm. “We need to get home and get this straightened out with Kristi. Thank you, Rose.”
Once they were outside, Jane faced Mitch. “Do you really think Kristi is involved with a married man? Her professor, no less?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out. And if there is something going on, I’m going to break Dr. Gage Young in two.”
The Real Thing Page 13