Season of Redemption. Jenna Mindel
he looked angry. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why did you have a few beers too many?”
He looked away then and shrugged. Now he was lying. By refusing to admit his reason, he wasn’t being true to himself or to her. Ryan Marsh had a definite purpose in drinking that night, she was certain. He didn’t strike her as the kind of guy to do anything by accident.
She waited, feeling the struggle going on inside him. “Ryan?”
He looked up.
In his eyes she read stark pain so acute, her heart flinched. It felt like she’d run into a jagged piece of glass that cut quick and deep. “Alcohol won’t make it go away.”
“It did for a while.”
Her stomach tipped over and fell, feeling like it had dropped to the soles of her feet. Ryan Marsh hurt, and he hurt badly. People hurting that bad often tried to medicate their sorrow to make it go away instead of dealing with it. Is that what he was doing? Was this the first stepping stone to a bigger issue?
Please, God, no...
The prayer whispered from her soul. She often prayed for clients, especially the teens in her group. She cared, but this was different. This bordered on something else. A connection between them where she felt his pain and wanted to take it away. But she couldn’t do that. Things didn’t work that way.
Straightening her paperwork, Kellie regrouped. This man wasn’t her client nor would he be. She was only filling in for Ginny. Ryan Marsh would become an agency client if recommended for counseling. She needed to remain impartial, objective and, above all else, emotionally removed.
But those eyes of his were killers, sucking her into a vortex of feelings she shouldn’t have. Settling the list of standard questions on the desk in front of her like a shield, she continued her line of questioning and note-taking.
His employment, his education, his family life—everything checked out. He was a regular guy with a normal life. From what he’d told her, a very stable life. Ryan was the middle child of three. He grew up on his family-owned cherry orchard, but he worked as a farm manager for a nearby horticultural research station. He’d worked there since graduating from college five years ago. The guy had no prior arrests, not even one speeding ticket according to the court records.
Yet, he was here.
She looked at him. “So, you’ve never been in trouble with the police before.”
He fidgeted in the chair and his boot hit the front of her desk when he tried to cross his legs. “Sorry.”
Again she’d hit a nerve. Had he been in trouble before? She smiled and waited for him to answer.
“I’m sorry, what was the question?”
She rephrased. “Have you ever been in trouble with the police before? Maybe not arrested, but warned? Or questioned?
The color drained from his face. “Questioned.”
“Why?” She held her breath.
“My fiancée was killed in a tractor rollover. My brother and I were there when it happened.” A brief glimpse of that tragedy shone from his eyes, but then he shuttered it off as easily as she might pull the shades on a window.
“When was this?”
“A little over three years ago.” He looked down at his feet. With his elbows balanced on his knees, Ryan clasped his hands so tight his knuckles had turned white.
She watched him closely. It was eating him up inside. Was he an alcoholic without knowing it or headed there because of his grief? It wasn’t uncommon for someone who’d never showed signs of substance abuse to slide down that slippery slope as a way to cope.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He struggled for control.
Part of her wanted to dig deeper, get him to talk about what had happened that day, but she stopped herself from asking the question poised on her lips. She wasn’t his counselor.
Kellie quickly gathered her papers and stood. “I think I have everything I need for now. You signed a permission waiver for us to check with your family, so I’ll complete those interviews later today.”
He stood as well. “Why do you have to talk to them? I told you everything you asked.”
Kellie wouldn’t sugarcoat the reason. “We need to establish your credibility.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Okay, fine. Then what?”
“Then I’ll review what we discussed along with the questionnaire you completed and make my recommendation to my boss and mentor counselor. Once they’ve reviewed the paperwork, we’ll forward their findings to the court. You’ll get copies of everything.”
Ryan looked worried. “When will I hear something?”
“By the end of the week.” She extended her hand. “I know this isn’t easy on you, but we’re on the same team.”
Ryan took it and squeezed.
For a moment, Kellie didn’t think he’d let go. His touch wasn’t threatening at all. In fact, all the bluster had gone out of him and he hung on like she was a rescue ring tossed in rough waters.
When he finally did let go of her hand, Kellie was tempted to reach for him again. And that was plain old crazy thinking. And dangerous.
He headed for the door and then stopped, turned around and gave her a hint of a smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Kellie’s heart pounded all over again.
* * *
Ryan stepped out of the treatment center into cold October sunshine peeking out from behind dark gray clouds. He felt a lot like the dried-up leaves getting swirled into a circle in the parking lot. His whole life had been stirred into a mess of decayed matter.
What had he gotten himself into? One stupid decision had cost him way more than the money spent on court fees, increased insurance and an invasive assessment. Despite the promise of dropped charges once he satisfied the conditions of his sentence, namely an evaluation and possible treatment, this thing had the power to impact the rest of his life.
Clicking the unlock button on his keys, Ryan climbed in his truck, but he didn’t start the engine right away. He stared at the trees on the surrounding hills that blazed in bright hues of orange and red. He’d made two stupid decisions. The first had been letting Sara try that asinine stunt with the tractor.
If only he’d told her no...
He leaned his head back and sighed. “I am such an idiot.”
The night of the party would have been their third wedding anniversary had Sara lived. They would have been married three years, maybe with a baby on the way. Ryan briefly closed his eyes. The pain hadn’t gone away. The hollow feeling he carried around had grown like a cancerous tumor.
He’d tried to recover through church, then isolation, and then that night, he’d tried something else. The party had given him an excuse to go further than a few beers to relax. He’d effectively blurred his memories until he couldn’t recall them anymore. He’d drunk enough to blot out that look on Sara’s face when she lay in his arms, dying.
It had been a real treat for his family to find out he’d been arrested. His one call had been to his future brother-in-law instead of his parents. Adam had picked him up from jail without lecture, but it was still a humbling experience he’d never want to repeat. Not something he’d wanted to place on his parents, either. Knowing his mom, she might have left him in jail overnight to think about what he’d done to get there.
That pretty intern reminded him a little of his mom. Kellie Cavanaugh wasn’t exactly short, maybe more average in height, but she looked small and delicate