by Ava Miles
Susannah gasped in shock. The idea of hiring a private eye to find their daddy had never dawned on her. And if Gail had seconded Shelby’s notion…well, it would only make her sister more intent on this foolishness. “What? Why in the name of all heaven would you do that? Mama would be furious. Besides, nothing good would come from it. Nothing. Do you hear?”
Sadie and Shelby were looking at each other, and she could see a thread of solidarity developing between them.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Sadie confirmed.
How had they gone from comforting her about Jake to discussing hiring a private investigator to find their daddy? “Shelby. Sadie. Listen to me. This is not a good idea. It would hurt Mama, and it could hurt the rest of us too.”
“I’m already hurt,” Shelby said in a voice laced with anger. “We all are. Why not be hurt and have answers to the questions that have plagued us our whole lives?”
“J.P. would be against this idea if he knew,” Susannah said, using her brother as a trump card. Everyone respected him. After all, he was the de facto head of the family. Mama hadn’t married Dale until they were mostly grown up.
“You and J.P. are such fussbudgets,” Sadie fired back. “And it’s not nice to bring J.P. into a discussion he’s not a part of.”
She was overtired, and her anger was growing in leaps and bounds. “It will involve J.P. if Shelby goes ahead with this hare-brained scheme.”
Her sister raised her head, and from the look in her brown eyes, Susannah could tell she had wounded her. “I’m sorry, Shelby. I’m…it’s been a day.”
Sadie finally pulled her hand away, and Susannah felt the absence profoundly. “We should go so you can get some sleep.” With that, she rose and carried the tray into the kitchen.
Shelby swept up the crumbs from her toast with a napkin and then balled it up and deposited it into the trash can in the corner.
“I’m sorry I got upset,” Susannah said, not knowing how to make things right. “It’s just…there’s a lot of hurt with Daddy.”
“I know,” Shelby said, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean to throw this at you after such a rough day. But when Sadie said that thing about Daddy… I thought it might be the sign I was hoping for. Well, it was as good as a rabbit hole, wasn’t it?”
And they all knew where rabbit holes led, didn’t they?
“I’ll just help Sadie tidy up and then we’ll head out,” Shelby said and left the room.
Both of her sisters returned a few minutes later, and Susannah embraced them fiercely. They were upset now, and she hated that—especially after they had been so kind to her.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said, trying to give them a smile. As it was, her mouth felt like it was weighted down by lead.
“You’re welcome,” they both said all polite-like.
“Talk to you tomorrow?” Susannah asked.
They answered, “But of course,” but the words had a strain to them.
After they left, she forced herself to rummage in her purse for her cell phone. Jake might call her if he needed something tonight. Threads of emotion moved through her body. Fear? Excitement? It was hard to pinpoint her feelings. They were all jangled up—rather like she was with him.
When she picked her phone up, she read the texts all her siblings had sent her. Her heart warmed, but it was the one from her mama that brought tears to her eyes.
Sleep with the angels, darlin’. I’m praying for you and Jake.
And with those words to comfort her, she sought her bed, asking the angels to work overtime on all their behalf.
Chapter 18
Since Jake had done more tossing and turning than sleeping, he greeted the dawn like J.P. had suggested and made a decision.
He was going to take the bull by the horns again. He would do anything to overcome his PTSD, anything to become totally balanced. Of course, the added incentive was that he got to see Susannah and be the kind of man she deserved. But he had to do it for himself first and foremost. He’d talked with way too many vets who had shown up for therapy at the behest of their wives, mothers, or girlfriends. It didn’t seem to stick if it wasn’t the person’s choice one-hundred percent.
This was his choice, and since Louisa thought she could help him, he planned to let her.
The homework she’d given him was folded neatly in the pocket of his jeans. He’d struggled over it mightily.
The church parking lot was mostly empty when he arrived, what with it being so early. When he entered the office, the church secretary greeted him and ushered him in straight away.
He closed the door and tugged on the collar of his neatly pressed white shirt. “Louisa,” he said by way of greeting.
She rose immediately and came around her desk to give him a hug. When he tried to pull back, she only held on tighter.
“Settle a minute,” she said softly. “You look like you need a good hug this morning.”
It was a little awkward, being held by her, but when she finally released him, she was smiling. He, on the other had, had broken out into a sweat.
“Seems you had a breakthrough yesterday,” she said. And the unexpectedness of that pretty much made his mouth plop open.
“Ma’am?”
“I told you not to call me that, Jake. Come. Let’s sit.”
He took the couch, but mostly because he knew she preferred her chair. Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his knees. “A breakthrough?” he said slowly, wondering about her kind of counseling.
Her brow rose. “From what you said on the phone last night, things intensified again all of the sudden, didn’t they?”
He finally noted that she was wearing a pale yellow suit coat, which seemed at odds with the darkness he was about to level on her. “That’s a mild way to describe it. I had a full-blown episode. With your daughter. Ah…can I have some water?” he asked, his mouth suddenly bone dry.
“Absolutely,” she replied, rising to pour him a glass.
After draining the whole glass—he couldn’t seem to stop with a couple sips—he set it down on the end table, more than a little alarmed to see his hands were shaking. He decided to sit on them.
“When you were being counseled before, did your episodes ever intensify with your sessions?” she asked.
“Some of the exposure therapy made me throw up,” he said, remembering how devastating that had been. He’d made sure not to eat at least four hours before a session, but the dry heaves hadn’t heeded him.
“What happened yesterday was like that,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile. “This isn’t a backward step, Jake. It’s called momentum.”
He blew out a long breath. “Louisa, you do have a funny way of looking at things. My old therapists thought I was re-traumatizing myself.”
“Perhaps what you were doing with them did re-traumatize you, but yesterday sounds different to me. From my perspective, two important things triggered it.”
“All right,” he said, bracing himself. “Let’s hear it.”
“The first was the young woman who asked for your autograph,” she said, and then leaned forward. “Did you bring your homework, by the way?”
He gulped. “Yes.”
“How did you find it?”
Shaking his head, he dug out the piece of paper and handed it to her. “Ah...well…I couldn’t think of too many things, to be honest.”
She opened the piece of paper and scanned it. “The only people on this whole planet whose lives have been changed by you being alive are your fans?”
His face reddened. “Well…yes. I mean…they tell me my music changes their lives. Well…some of them. Like Mary yesterday. Of course some can’t stand it. But I doubt you meant the haters.”
She folded up the paper and handed it back to him. “You didn’t include your family.”
“No ma’am…I mean, Louisa,” he said immediately. They surely couldn’t care one way or another.
“As a mother, I can tell you that despite your c
urrent relationship with your own mama, you did change her life.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I agree that I changed it. I’m just not sure she would concur that I did so in a positive way.”
“Ah…” she drew out. “Do you ever remember her loving you, Jake?”
Well, wasn’t that question a punch to the gut? “I remember some nice birthdays when she made me my favorite cake and let a few of my friends come over.”
“All right,” she said, handing him another glass of water. “Let’s leave your family aside for the moment.”
His hands weren’t shaking as much this time, he was comforted to see.
“You didn’t mention any of the men you served with in the Army,” she said.
He’d figured she would pick up on that. “There wasn’t anyone I could rightly name. I mean Monty, Darren, and Randy didn’t have their lives changed by knowing me. We’re just friends.” It wasn’t like he was the only one who’d carried Monty to the Humvee after his leg was blown to bits. He sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about Booker.
“Jake, I find that hard to believe,” she said, leaning forward in her chair. “I’ve read all the press I could find about your military service. You received a Silver Star. Someone in the Army must have thought you warranted such distinction.”
He grimaced. The article about the events that had led to him receiving that star had made him livid. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know about it. “Any guy would have done what I did.”
She shook her head, her silver hair bobbing around her ears. “And yet, you were the one who charged into a building to take out the sniper who had most of your unit pinned down, saving the lives of seventeen men. And you refused treatment for the bullet wound in your shoulder since so many of your men were down.”
He shifted in his seat and broke eye contact. “I also got my butt chewed out by my commanding officer for going into that building without proper back-up,” he told her. “The bottom line is, Louisa, none of us wanted to get shot.”
“Does that make you a bad guy, in your eyes?” she asked him. “Deciding to do something because you didn’t want to get shot?”
He could all but feel himself getting angry, and he knew he was starting to turn into that man he didn’t like much. “It certainly doesn’t make me heroic.”
“Which is why it bothered you so much when that woman told you that you were a hero,” she gently said. “Mary was her name, right?”
“Look,” he said, grinding out the words. “I don’t like anyone thinking I’m a hero. I’ve known heroes. I’m not one of them.”
She tilted her head to the side. “What have those other men done that you haven’t?”
“They save lives,” he ground out. Why couldn’t she understand? “I need to stand.”
“Go ahead,” she said, staying where she was. “So you’ve decided that you aren’t a hero because you weren’t able to save your best friend after you rescued all those other men by taking down that sniper.”
Jake walked to the window to stare out the blinds. He was glad she hadn’t drawn them. He hated having sessions without natural light. “I know what you’re thinking…”
“Do you now?” she asked, and while it was said politely, he could hear the steel in her voice—much like he’d heard it in Susannah’s yesterday.
“I’ve heard this all before,” he said, stalking back to face her. “A hero isn’t supposed to let anyone down. He’s supposed to bring back everyone in his unit. I didn’t do that.”
“Jake, you set a pretty high prize for yourself. To me, it sounds unrealistic to think any soldier can save every man he serves with.”
“You think I’m playing God again,” he said, and then he heard the echo of J.P.’s voice in his head, and it made him pause. Last night, his friend’s words had reached him, but today, his anger had blown them to bits. “Your son said the same thing.”
“So you talked to my son about this?” she said, a smile spreading across her face. “What else did he say?”
“Pretty much the same thing you did,” Jake said, stomping his foot. “Do think I want to feel like this? Like a failure? And so angry I couldn’t save Booker that I want to hit something? I wish it were as simple as y’all make it out to be, and sometimes the words make sense to me, but…”
“There’s a lot of emotion balled up inside you,” Louisa said. “That’s why yesterday was a breakthrough. It’s forcing its way out. It needs to come out, Jake.”
“If that’s what you consider a breakthrough…” he said, hanging his head. “It didn’t feel good, and it was downright scary.”
“Of course it was,” she said. “The other reason you were triggered yesterday is because of Susannah.”
His head shot up.
“You didn’t like her hearing anyone say you were a hero, and when you had your episode, you were terrified you’d fail her like you did Booker. I’ll bet your protective instincts went into overdrive, didn’t they?”
Pain shot through his temple, and he rubbed it. “I was scared I was going to kill her or get her killed in my truck. Louisa, I was paralyzed. I couldn’t even change lanes and get to the shoulder.”
“And yet you finally managed to do just that,” she said softly.
“I don’t think I would have without Susannah,” he said, cracking his tense neck. “She’s a lot like you. She looks like a flower, but she’s got a spine of steel when she needs it.”
Louisa chuckled. “I’m happy to hear that. But Jake, she’s a positive force for you. That much we know. She helped you through your episode. Did you find her a comfort?”
Shifting on the couch, he looked away. She was more than a comfort. Her kisses had rocked his world and soothed his soul, but how was he supposed to tell her mama that? “Yes, she was a comfort.”
“Good,” she responded immediately. “Then you should definitely keep seeing her.”
He met her searching gaze again. “You mean you still think it’s all right for me to ask her out?”
She nodded. “I do. Her presence helped you through what happened yesterday. In my eyes, that kind of connection between humans provides the greatest opportunity for healing.”
Hadn’t J.P. said the same thing? “I’m…still not sure it’s fair to her.”
“I expect Susannah has already decided that for herself, no?”
Jeez, did she have some special sense that told her he’d kissed her daughter? “She seems to have decided, yes.” He’d awoken to a text from her at dawn, wishing him a good morning with her mama and saying she was praying for him. He was never going to delete that message.
“So what next?” he asked. “I pretty much disassociated yesterday and then got paralyzed on the road. Should I not drive your daughter anywhere when we go out together?” The thought had kept him awake last night. Maybe he wasn’t safe to operate any heavy machinery around her.
“How long had it been since you had an episode like that?” she asked like her daughter had.
“A couple years,” he answered, and just hearing the words out loud made him feel that he was probably overreacting.
“Then take the lessons you can from it,” Louisa said, folding her hands in her lap.
Lessons. Maybe he should write this down. “What would those be?”
“We’ve only met twice, but I think we need to focus more on you seeing yourself as someone who deserves love. You told me you concluded God doesn’t love you anymore because He didn’t answer your prayer to save Booker.”
His chest tightened. “Among other things.”
“Do you believe other people love you besides your fans?” she pressed.
The tension spreading across his temple intensified. “I’m not close to a whole lot of people anymore.” This was getting embarrassing. “Guys…don’t think about each other that way.”
“Did you love Booker?” she flat out asked him.
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “Yeah. But I never told him.” He hung his
head. “Not even when he was dying.” Not that it had dawned on him to do so. Everything had happened so fast, it seemed, but when his mind played it back, it seemed like they’d been running through water.
“It’s not easy for men, especially men in the military, to express their love for the people in their lives. But you express your love in your music.”
He was able to draw in a full breath as he thought about his songs. Yeah, his work allowed him to talk about love. But he longed for it more than he had it.
“Maybe now you’ll do the hard work of making yourself vulnerable. To have real connection with people, it’s important to share how you feel.”
“It’s a little awkward, don’t you think? You encouraging me to date your daughter.”
She steepled her fingers. “Let’s be clear. You want to date my daughter, and she wants to date you. It’s important for this to be your choice. It is not a tool of counseling.”
He almost cursed, which would have been wildly inappropriate. “Right. And let me be clear. I’m not using her as a tool to get better.”
“I know that, Jake.” Her hands rested again in her lap. “You seem tuckered out. How about we set a time for our next meeting before I give you more homework?”
Somehow he managed to suppress the groan. Hadn’t he said he would do anything? “Does it involve walking over hot coals? Because I think I would be really good at that.”
She laughed. “Most men would prefer to walk over hot coals. It satisfies the Alpha in them. I’d like to see you again this week if you have the time. How does this Friday sound?”
“I’m not on tour now, so my time is yours.” Plus he’d committed himself to getting better—no matter what.
“Good,” she said, rising to note it in her day planner. “Now, for your homework. I want you to write a letter to God.”
“A letter to…” He shook his head, gulping. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” she said brightly. “I want you to tell Him how you feel.”
Some voice in his mind shouted, Dear God, You suck.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” he drawled, thinking how short the ‘suck’ letter would be. What if part of him wanted to say other things like that? He would burn in hell for sure.