Nash Read online

  That was an ugly way to look at life, but a ring of truth was in her words.

  “On that note,” she added, pushing her chair from the table, “I’ll head back to work.”

  “That was a very depressing end,” he said. “Don’t leave it like that.”

  She gave him a ghost of a smile. “I’m fine,” she said. “This is nothing new for me. I’ve been trying to deal with all this for a long time.”

  “Maybe it’s time to get some professional help,” he said softly, knowing that most people hated to be reminded that that kind of help was out there.

  She looked at him for a long moment and then said, “Maybe.”

  But he knew she wouldn’t. Still he had to try again. “I’m pretty sure all the staff can speak with the specialists here,” he said. “For free.”

  She nodded and said, “I’ll think about it,” and she left.

  He watched her disappear, her stride fast-moving yet smooth. She was lean, average height, with this chestnut brown hair that she hated and called mousy. But she didn’t see the highlights that ran through it and the flip at the end of the cut that was completely natural and gave her a bit of sass. He loved her hair; it used to be supersoft, silky. Was it still?

  He’d loved everything about her and had been devastated when it had come down to his career or her. And, no, she hadn’t put it that way. She’d been looking at the change from a completely different viewpoint, but that’s how her response felt to him. He had chosen to walk away, knowing that they were both so young and that he needed to do what he needed to do, and so did she.

  Now here they were again, in a place like this, where healing was what it was all about. And he had to wonder at the vagaries of fate that put the two of them together again, with both of them apparently dealing with some heavy psychological issues.

  Chapter 5

  The following week Alicia came into work one morning, and, since she was a few minutes early, she walked into the dining room, grabbed a cup of coffee, spied a muffin, and snagged it. Almost guiltily she turned and headed out.

  “You know that you’re allowed anything you want here,” Dennis said from the kitchen doorway.

  She smiled and said, “I always feel guilty when I have anything,” she said. “It still feels like everything here is for the patients.”

  “It’s also for the staff,” he said. “Of which you are one.”

  “I know,” she said. “I guess it’s probably because I don’t live here. I commute to work.”

  “You’re not alone in that,” he said. “Several people do.” He pointed to a tableful of people having breakfast. “That entire group does. They come here for breakfast. It saves on costs, and it gives them more of a connected feeling.”

  She stopped, looked at him, and said, “That’s an issue I’ve been dealing with. A sense of not being connected.”

  “That’s because you don’t stay here for meals very often. So you don’t have as many socializing opportunities. So they all seem like great friends, and you’re the outsider.”

  “I do stay for dinner, and I’m here for lunch.”

  “Sure, but you could have breakfast too,” he said. “You could have coffee breaks too.”

  “I do,” she said. “It’s a really nice benefit.”

  “It sure is,” he said. “We work hard to keep the food fresh, hot, and good, so take advantage of it. Also, if there’s anything you fancy, let me know.”

  “Chicken pot pie,” she said instantly.

  He stopped and looked at her with one eyebrow up. “You’re a fan of chicken pot pie?”

  “Sure am. It’s what my grandma always used to serve on Sundays,” she said with a bright smile. Then her smile fell away, and she added, “Never mind. It was also my brother’s favorite.”

  “Then we should definitely have it,” he said. “To honor the brother who’s no longer with us.”

  She looked at him. “How do you know that?”

  “From your tone of voice, in the tense that you used,” he said. “All of us here are dealing with death of some kind. Just remember. There’s more to death than a physical one.” With that, he turned and walked behind his counter.

  She wondered at his words for several days, and then finally she got an opportunity, where she caught him alone outside on the deck at a rare moment.

  He leaned with his hands over the railing, staring at the horses.

  She looked at him and said, “What did you mean, by that comment about death? More than just a physical death?”

  He looked at her in surprise, and then he smiled. “Death is a loss. But there are all kinds of losses,” he said. “Death is a separation. It’s a loss. It’s a letting go. However it’s a two-part letting go. Unfortunately the loss of the loved one is, first, them letting go of us, whether they wanted to or not, whether we wanted them to or not. However, those of us left behind still need to let go of that absent loved one. We all must do that eventually to heal. To start over with our lives. To step out of that immense grief that fills the void that is left. We just don’t always know how.”

  “I hadn’t considered it in that way,” she said.

  “That’s because, to you, death is the hard reality of having somebody close to you die,” he said. “Most of us have been through something like that. A lot of these patients here lost other military personnel in the same accident that kept them alive. And they’re dealing with survivor’s guilt.”

  She stiffened at that. “Oh.”

  “And, if that happens to be one of the things you’re dealing with,” he said, “it’s a hard one because you would do anything you could to take the other person’s place, but, at the same time, it was their pathway. The event was in their life, and you don’t have any way to change it.”

  “What happens,” she said quietly, “when the passing is so terrible and so bad and so long-lasting that all you want is for it to be over with? Then you feel horribly guilty when they do die because you know that all you wanted was for it to stop.”

  He looked at her, grabbed her fidgeting fingers, and said, “You need to talk to somebody because what you’re feeling is normal, and yet you’re racking yourself with unnecessary guilt.”

  She quickly brushed away the tears at the corners of her eyes and said, “That’s so easy to say but not quite so easy to fix.”

  “I think you can talk about it just fine,” he said. “Everything is right there, ready to come pouring out.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure that I want it to pour out,” she said. “I already feel guilty enough.”

  “Exactly, and there’s no reason to,” he said.

  She nodded and said, “I’ll take that under advisement, but I need to get back to work now.” She quickly disappeared, and she knew he was watching her as he left, but she could do nothing about it. It felt like she was running away, and, in truth, she was because he had brought up some big issues that she was definitely not ready to deal with.

  When the day was finally done, as she sat at her desk, cleaning up the last bits of her workday, Dani walked in, took one look, smiled, and said, “Hey, I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Oh?” Alicia said. Just something about somebody saying that always made her feel like she’d done something wrong. Her mind went to Dennis’s conversation, wondering if she’d made a mistake in confiding to him. “What’s up?”

  “I didn’t know if you were interested in living on Hathaway House’s grounds,” she said. “However, we’ll have a place open up in a month.”

  “Uh, I haven’t really considered it,” she said, lying smoothly.

  “Well, spend some time and consider it,” Dani urged. “It’s an opportunity for you, if you want it. But I understand if you don’t. Not everybody is suited for living here.”

  “Yes, I wondered about that,” she said. “It’s nice to get away.”

  “Exactly. Anyway something to consider.” Then she stopped, looked back, and said, “Just in case nobody said anything, you kno
w all the facilities are available for you, right? So you can swim, go to the gym, walk around the grounds, visit with the animals downstairs, anything and everything.”

  “I’ve already been down to see Stan several times,” she confessed. “I wondered if Nash would like to visit. Although I’m not so sure about how he feels about the animals.”

  “That’s a good point,” Dani said. “He’s probably seen them but doesn’t understand just how much of a part of our world they are. I’ll fix that tomorrow.”

  “What about some of the health care services?” Alicia asked hesitantly. “Is that for staff too?”

  “Absolutely. What do you need?”

  She winced and didn’t say anything.

  “Do you want to talk to somebody? Do you need to see somebody?”

  “I don’t know what the difference is, but I was wondering about a talk with one of the counselors or one of the psychiatrists?”

  “Pick one,” Dani said instantly. “And book yourself an appointment. And it would definitely be private conversations, whatever happens there. But, if you have a problem, and you need some help, something that I can do to assist you, let me know. Other than that, I’ll head out and go for a horseback ride.” With that, she disappeared around the corner.

  Something was just so natural and fresh about Dani’s attitude. Alicia appreciated the fact that Dani didn’t pry, didn’t ask questions, and left the decision up to Alicia to make. She grabbed her purse, ready to drive home, walked down the hallway heading for the front door, when she saw Dr. Simmons. She hesitated.

  He looked at her, smiled, and said, “Something I can do for you?”

  “Are you up for taking on somebody new?”

  He looked at her, his gaze intent. “You?”

  She nodded slowly. “I don’t know if it’s a big deal,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I just thought maybe it would help to talk.”

  “How about tomorrow morning?” he said. “I’m open at eight in the morning.”

  “I start work then.”

  “You’re entitled to several visits, as part of your job.”

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “Why don’t you come in at seven-thirty a.m. tomorrow, before your shift,” he said. “We’ll just have a talk. Maybe it’s something easy.” Then he smiled slightly and added, “But, given my line of work, maybe not.”

  She smiled and said, “Maybe it is.” With that, she said thanks and quickly raced from the building.

  Back home that night, she found herself restless and regretting her impulsive decision. She should never have asked him for an appointment. What a way to start her day. What if she broke down and bawled? She’d have red swollen eyes, and everybody would be asking what was wrong with her. She was a fool; she shouldn’t have done it.

  Finally she went for a walk to ease some of the stress she felt crawling up her spine.

  By the next morning she was a little calmer but still racked with her crazy decision. But she showed up on time nonetheless. She’d taken her brother to hundreds of such appointments.

  When she walked in, Dr. Simmons looked up, smiled, and said, “Please, take a seat, and tell me what’s bothering you.”

  She took a long slow deep breath and said, “I’m trying to figure out how to not feel guilty. My brother passed away from cancer. I was his caregiver for years, but I was relieved when he died.” Then she burst into tears.

  “Oh, my dear,” he said. “How long have you been dealing with this?”

  She waved her hand and tried to count back the years. Finally she managed to give him a rough estimate, and it all came tumbling out, how she loved him so much, how she quit college to take online courses, and, with financial assistance from her parents, she could stay home and look after her brother. She told Dr. Simmons how nothing that she did made Jerry better and that nothing the doctors did could help him. How, after seven years of watching her brother painfully deteriorate, she just needed it to end, needed his suffering to end. She knew that he’s not in pain anymore and that he’s in a better place and all that good stuff, but still she felt terrible.

  Dr. Simmons nodded slowly and said, “Of course you do. You loved him. You didn’t really want him to die. You just wanted to end his suffering. That’s a different story entirely because the only end to his suffering was death.”

  She nodded slowly. “But how do you come to terms with that? Because I could do absolutely nothing to help him, and yet I feel terribly guilty.”

  “You feel guilty because you’re alive, and he’s not,” he said. “That’s always a hard one. Those of us who are left behind are in the worst-case position. We have no idea why we were spared whatever it was that took your brother, and, at some point in time, you probably did wish that you could take his place just to end it for him. But you can’t. It was his cross to bear, for whatever reason. I won’t get too philosophical here with you, but the thing is, what you have to deal with is the fact that you survived, that you’re still alive, even though he isn’t.”

  “That’s not easy. I’ve been dealing with that for two years,” she said quietly. “Also it’s hard on my parents. They feel terribly guilty because they didn’t quit work, because they didn’t stay home with him, and now they’re divorced. I’m the only child left, so it’s as if I’m a lifeline for them because they’re afraid of losing another child.”

  “And that’s understandable too,” he said gently. “When you think about it, they know that they could lose you any day as well, and that fear and grief is crippling them. It doesn’t make it any easier on you, but it might help to understand.”

  “I understand,” she said. “But it sucks. I feel like I’m choking myself, and I’m choking with them too.”

  “You probably are,” he said cheerfully. “Aren’t relationships grand?”

  She looked at him in surprise and then burst out laughing. “Oh, and that’s another funny thing,” she said. “Nash is here, and he was my ex-boyfriend way back when, from before my brother got ill,” she admitted. “I was a very different person then, and seeing him now and him seeing me as different as I am”—she shook her head before going on—“it’s like this great divide in my life, from before and then after Jerry.”

  “Before your brother got ill and then after he passed away?”

  “Yes, and I have been in this stagnant nine-year period. I don’t know which is worse. These last two years, without Jerry? Or the first seven years when he was so sick? I spent as much time as I could with my brother, laughing and cheering him up, and thoroughly enjoying and yet hating my life because there would never be a happy ending,” she said, her eyes wet with tears.

  “Of course not,” he said. “You know what though? That time was a gift. A gift your parents didn’t get, but you did because you wanted it.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I know that. For me there was no hesitation in my decision. But sometimes I wondered if I was strong enough to endure it, which made me feel horrible as my brother was forced to endure it regardless. He had no choice. There were days I wanted to quit. But it’s not like he could. So neither could I.” She exhaled a long slow sigh. “I don’t know why, but I feel better just now.”

  “Of course you do,” he said. “You haven’t had anybody to talk to at all, have you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I haven’t. I just couldn’t. Maybe I wasn’t ready. I don’t know.”

  “We’ll go with that,” he said. “Healing has to happen at its own rate. It’s one of the things you’ll learn here. There’ll be no progress, no progress, no progress, and then bam! Somebody jumps forward, and all of a sudden they’re looking like somebody completely different than when they arrived.”

  “I want to be like that,” she said. “I want to be completely different than when I arrived.”

  “What about when you leave? Because—don’t forget—the patients here have a start date and an end date.”

  “I hadn’t considered that,” she mused.r />
  “You don’t have to leave here. You just need to make a deadline for when you want to be this way,” he said. “Or don’t put a date on it, and let’s just see you progress as we go along.”

  She took a long slow deep breath. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Good,” he said. “It’s almost eight o’clock, and you have to go to work, and I have patients to see. So how about we meet again in,” he paused, looked at her, and said, “do you want your next appointment in one week or two weeks?”

  She thought about it and said, “Maybe in two weeks?”

  “Good enough,” he said. “Same time?”

  “Yes,” she said, as she stood. “Thank you.”

  He looked up at her, smiled, and said, “Thank you.”

  She frowned and asked, “For what?”

  “For trusting me,” he said. “It’s important, when you’re ready, to find somebody you’re comfortable with to share whatever’s bothering you inside. So good job.”

  She laughed and said, “Have a great day.”

  With that, she turned and walked out, ready to start the first day of the rest of her life.

  Nash wasn’t sure what had happened, but Alicia was different. He watched her for a couple days before he broached the subject, waiting for when they had a few private moments. She came in to check on him one morning. After a few moments he asked, “So what’s happened in your world?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “You look different.”

  She stopped, stared, and said jokingly, “Well, I didn’t get my hair cut. I didn’t lose any weight, and I certainly haven’t changed my hair color or anything else.”

  “It’s something inside,” he said. “I’m not sure how, or why, but I’m happy for you.”

  She looked at him in surprise and then slowly nodded. “I’ve started talking to somebody,” she confessed.