Where Trust Leads Us

Chapter 1

Kerrie Matthews frowned, aware she was leaving her dreamy sleep state and entering alertness—that odd moment when brain fog was hit with a cold wash of reality. Something felt off. Something had changed around her.

She opened her eyes to darkness. It felt late, as if the sun should be coming up soon. She turned her head to see what time it was on the digital clock by her bed. Only her eyes didn't land on the clock. However, her gaze landed on a large man standing beside her bed, hovering silently. Her heart leaped into her throat as she jumped back, clutching the comforter covering her thick body. "Shit!"

"Hey, Kerrie," her twin brother, Kenny, greeted her in his slightly high-pitched voice. He was rubbing his hand repeatedly over the top of his head, a telltale sign of anxiety.

"Kenny, Bubs, what have I—" she stopped, her sleep haze lifting enough to rein in her irritation. Yelling at him wouldn't help. He was seeking her out for comfort in his own way. Kenny didn't use many words, and she was used to reading between the lines. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yeah," he answered simply, shifting from foot to foot.

She sighed, sitting up to push the covers back on the other side of her California king. The twins were tall, 6'3, and needed the extra legroom. Kenny's bed was the same size. "Get on in," she instructed, her southern drawl extra twangy in the early morning hours.

She could make out his outline in the faint light of her bedroom. They always kept a nightlight on in the hall for Kenny. She didn’t care for its low-light rays intruding on the comforting darkness of her room. He needed it more than she needed complete darkness, though, so she put up with it.

He shuffled around her black leather-framed bed, his waddling gait unmistakable even in the darkened room. It wasn't the first time they'd bunked together. It was something they had done since birth, each other's main source of comfort, and after 52 years, she doubted it would ever stop.

Once he was laid down, she leaned over and tucked him in before settling back into her spot. Each other's presence made going back to sleep easier, and sleep took them both over without effort.

***

The smell of fried bacon permeated the kitchen, hanging over like a tasty cloud. Kerrie cracked an egg, dropping it into a frying pan along with a bit of shell. "Damn," she muttered as she dipped her finger to retrieve the offending white dot, burning the tip. "Double damn."

"Kerrie, bad word," admonished Kenny quickly.

"Sorry," she sighed, not sorry at all. The whole morning had been a circus, and if she wanted to curse at her age, she felt like it was acceptable, but since Mabel came to be his aide, Kenny had been a stickler for calling her out on cursing. Damned Mabel and her good influence. "Scrambled or fried, Bubs?"

"Scrambled."

She nodded approvingly, hoping he would pick that option because she wanted them as well. And they were faster to make. She broke the yolks with a spatula, swirling the yellow and white parts together. She glanced at him, noticing the shirt tag showing under his chin. He was standing at the back door, the white curtain pulled back, watching the squirrels in the backyard eat from the feeders while he waited for Mabel. "That squirrel is back."

"The white one?" she asked, grabbing a bag of sandwich bread from the cabinet and then fumbling it in midair as it slipped right from her hands to the floor. "Damnit."

"Kerrie," warned Kenny as soon as the swear was out of her mouth.

"Sorry," she mumbled. This morning had been more chaotic than usual .

Kerrie and Kenny Matthews were two peas in a pod. Even by twin standards, their closeness was evident. Together, they had weathered many storms. Survived things that only made them stronger.

Born two months early, they were dumped into the world by a mom and dad who didn't want them. Though Kerrie didn't have any cognition issues, Kenny did. She never got a straight answer as to whether or not he was born the way he was. Their mother had convinced her sister, the twins Aunt Laura, that it was a fever that got too high when he was two years old. However, Uncle Roy had told Kerrie once in a hushed voice that he thought that was just an excuse. Their mom had come up with a way to lessen the guilt of her son being born with a mental delay, a quietly talked about shame at the time. Southern folk tended to point out what others thought was a defect while not pointing the finger at themselves for similar things. No one was perfect, but they all pretended to be during Sunday morning church services.

Kenny had the cognitive development of a three- or four year-old and a heart of gold. Kerrie would do anything for him and protected him with everything she had. They never knew their father. Their mother had been an alcoholic and was in and out of their lives until she died of a massive heart attack. Laura and Roy were consistently there throughout their lives when their mom wasn't dragging them here and there from man to man. It never lasted, though, and they always ended up back at the house on Nixon Lane in the care and safety of Laura and Roy. The house that they had left upon their deaths to the twins and where Kerrie was currently panicking in the kitchen.

"Mabel's here," Kenny said, never taking his eyes off the window.

"Thank God," Kerrie mumbled as she popped some bread into the toaster.

After a couple of minutes, Kenny opened the door, and Mabel's gray, poofy hair ducked in. She was immediately engulfed in a bear hug by Kenny. Kerrie and Kenny were heavyset with thick arms and middles, but Kenny's legs were skinnier. Kerrie would gently tease him about having chicken legs. Both had short brown hair that tapered at the neck, with gray seeping in at the edges. They were huge compared to little Mabel, a wisp of a woman coming in at about 5'2 and couldn't possibly be more than 100 lbs.

"Okay, okay, Kenny. Let the old woman have some air," laughed Kerrie as she grabbed some plates from the cabinet.

"Are you having a rough morning, Kerrie?" asked Mabel as she set her purse on the old wooden kitchen table.

"What makes you ask that? "

Mabel looked over at Kenny, who grinned at her with wide eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Kenny, can you tell her what's wrong with this picture? Has she forgotten something?"

Kenny's grin increased as he pointed, letting out a stuttered laugh. "She forgot her pants, Mabel."

Frowning, Kerrie paused to look down at herself. The navy blue button-down, cuffed at the elbows, looked fine, but she looked further down and realized that she was wearing only gray boxers. She even put on her black crew socks with the pizza slices. Her naked legs stuck out. "Ah, shit."

"Kerrie," Kenny and Mabel warned in unison.

Rolling her eyes, Kerrie shook her head. "Give me a break, guys."

Mabel's eyes crinkled at the edges as she walked over and took the spatula from Kerrie. She patted her arm. "Why don't you go get yourself dressed, and I'll finish up here."

Guilt settled into Kerrie's chest at being unable to finish everything on her own this morning. Mabel was supposed to take care of Kenny when she was gone. Not while she was there. She sighed. "Thanks, Mabel."

She found her dark gray dress slacks lying on her bed where she had left them. She shook her head as she quickly stuffed her legs in and tucked the shirt in. A black leather belt and shoes accompanied it quickly. She gave herself a triple check just to be sure she got it right this time. The image reflected at her in the bathroom mirror was of a middle-aged, handsome woman knocking on 300 lbs. She had long since embraced her size and now admired her heavily built body.

She snorted, shaking her head. She appeared far more put together than she felt, but she would take it. There was no reason for others to know she was struggling. Unless they looked closely at the deepening lines around her hazel eyes or the angry red lines of her nail beds, where she chewed on them to the point they hurt. Not to mention, she was either not sleeping or sleeping too much. Last week, she had fallen asleep in her recliner after dinner and didn't wake up until midnight. Kenny had patiently waited for her to wake up to get him ready for bed. It hadn't occurred to him to wake her up.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she ran a hand through her short, graying brown hair and left the bathroom. She had to be at work soon. More people needed her.

When she returned to the kitchen, her heart warmed at the sight of Kenny content and happily eating his breakfast. She hated leaving him to go to work but was confident that Mabel would keep him safe. She was a gift .

Mabel had been busy during the brief time Kerrie was in the bathroom. She put Kerrie's breakfast in a reusable container and into her blue and white striped lunch bag, holding out a silver travel mug full of coffee. "I put a little salsa and cheese on the eggs like you both like it."

Flushing with embarrassment, Kerrie ducked her head at the older woman. "Thanks, Mabel; you really are a gem."

Kerrie bid them both goodbye and stepped out into the dewy morning of spring. She loved this time of year. The air was damp but fresh and just brisk enough to cause a chill. It wouldn't be long before cool spring mornings would turn into humid, heated Tennessee mornings, where sweat would begin forming the moment she left the house, but for now, she would enjoy it while she could.

She took a moment to allow the sun to hit her face, the warmth charging her internal batteries. She could feel a little bit of the stress from the morning routine melt away as she tilted her head from one side to the other, not the least bit surprised when a few pops sounded. A smile tugged at her lips. Maybe this day wasn't a complete loss. Maybe it was just her attitude.

Turtle Grove Rehabilitation Center was just a short 25-minute drive from Kerrie's house. Sometimes, those 25 minutes were filled with anticipation and dread before she even arrived. Sometimes, they were what she needed to decompress from the day. It was a double-edged sword. Today, she wasn't dreading it as much as usual.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her job—she did. Addiction counseling was a large part of who she was. She found it fulfilling, and the good outweighed the bad, but it wasn't a field for everybody, and even those who were made for it were still affected by it mentally and physically.

Kerrie parked her 1999 black Ford Ranger in her usual spot. Turtle Grove Rehabilitation was a non-profit organization funded mainly by grants and some state insurance. Most of the clients coming into the facility were low or no income. More than half were court-motivated, meaning a judge or parole officer sent them, but some were still ready to make a change. They just needed the push. However, that meant some were just there to bide their time, complete the program, and go back to using. Kerrie's branch had male-only clients. She had helped at the women's branch a few times over the years when short-staffed but never related to them as well. It was two completely different worlds, which usually surprised new counselors coming in who experienced both .

Nestled in the center of an older neighborhood, the rehab campus was divided into several buildings that were once homes and businesses the non-profit had bought and renovated over time as the company grew. There were four main buildings where treatment was held and several smaller homes where the clients would be housed for 30 to 60 days. Kerrie's building was called The Church, a repurposed old church from the late 1900s. Each building and housing unit had different names that were often informal sounds. All of the houses that the men lived in were named after birds. From the outside, the houses looked like average homes, but if one were to look closer, some odd things would pop out, like no mailboxes and people only entering the backs of the houses.

Kerrie and a counselor named Wilson were the only counselors in their building, and they effectively ran it independently from the other buildings together—though Kerrie did the majority. Wilson was close to retirement and never did more than he had to. Kerrie rarely used the word "no" when it came to helping. It was a match made in hell for equality.

Kerrie lumbered out of her truck, her feet crunching on the gravel drive, and grabbed her breakfast and coffee before heading for the front door. Casting her gaze over at Sparrow House, where The Church's clients were housed, she spotted her peer in the distance. He was walking the incline to The Church on the lush green grass that separated The Church from Sparrow. A small creek that went dry during the hottest months ran through the middle. A quaint little covered bridge for the clients and staff to use connected the two pieces of land.

She waved to him, then twisted the key into the slot of the double glass doors and pushed it open. Biting cold air hit her face immediately, and she groaned. They had forgotten to turn up the thermostat from the day before when it had been warmer. Wilson would be complaining about being cold. He was knocking on 62, set in his ways, and one thing he did not like was being cold. Kerrie was the opposite. She was always warm. The fan in her office constantly ran, even during the cold months. She was rarely cold enough to wear a jacket. Kenny used to be just like her, but after his heart attack, he complained of being cold often. The doctor said it was most likely a side effect of his medications. It worried her more than she thought it should. Something about dressing him differently than herself tugged at her heart.

Kerrie was usually the first to open The Church so clients could come for morning reflection.

The building was laid out like a typical old one-room southern church—simple, small, with wood beams and matching oak flooring. Originally, it was an open room with a few stairs leading up to where the sermon would take place, but it had since been modified for business. At the front entrance were two small bathrooms to the left and a doorway to the right leading down to the basement. Three steps led up to the long hall that ran the length of the building, with offices on either side and a small storage area/staff bathroom at the back. By the back door was the world's oldest copier and fax machine combo, which was still struggling along, if only out of spite.

The old wooden floors creaked under Kerrie's feet as she ascended the short stairs. Wilson's office was closer to the front door, while hers was in the very back, situated in the corner. She unlocked her office, put her things on her cluttered desk, and proceeded across the hall to the back door. She knew her peer, Luke, would be waiting for her. It was the same routine most mornings. She could do it in her sleep. And sometimes she did. She couldn't count the times she'd dreamed she was at work. It was like it never entirely left her mind.

She unlocked the door, and Luke was standing on the back porch. Luke was in the Peer Program, where clients who were interested and had a recommendation from their counselor could stay an additional three months to a year working as an aide to staff. They were given housing, three meals daily, and a reduced paycheck. The Church always had one peer assigned to them, and Luke was theirs. Sometimes, clients related better to peers than counselors, so they helped bridge the gap. It also gave the peers more time to get their grip on sobriety. They were required to attend meetings and had weekly check-ins with a counselor.

"We got three new ones last night," announced Luke as he walked by her without invitation.

"Do you know whose they are?" she asked as she led the way to her office.

"According to their tags, it looks like two for you and one for Wilson."

Kerrie sat down in the chair behind her old green metal desk, which looked like something right out of the 60s. Nothing was replaced at Turtle Grove unless it was completely unusable. Grant funding and state insurance kept the place going, so they stuck to a budget. Very rarely would a client pay out of pocket, but usually, if someone could afford to pay, they would opt for a private facility. Kerrie thought of it like flying a plane. While they all had the same destination as their goal, some flew in first class while others were in economy. Kerrie was pretty simple, so she didn't mind the beat-up desk. She just wished she could get a filing cabinet that would open without almost throwing her shoulder out .

"Did any of them come straight to the house?"

Luke shook his black and faded blue hair. "No, they were all three staying at The Main. Two of them did come for the evening group last night. I couldn't get Wilson's client to leave his room, so we just left him."

She nodded as she pushed the start button to get her ancient computer up and running. She was pretty sure it was just three days younger than Moses. It would take five minutes to be usable. They had offered to upgrade it to a newer-ish model, but Kerrie wasn't the most tech-savvy person, and change was hard in that area. "Alright, well, hopefully, they'll enjoy their stay. How was your evening meeting last night?"

Luke shrugged, sinking into an old wooden chair with a square, itchy red cushion. He put the tip of his vape in his mouth but stopped from taking a hit when he glanced back at her and remembered where he was. "It was okay."

Tilting her head, she raised a brown eyebrow at the young man. "Just okay?"

He sighed, pushing out his bottom lip as his dark brown eyes looked up to the ceiling. She noticed a little patch of stubble he had missed shaving. "I don't know if I want to keep going to the AA group."

Kerrie nodded, understanding what he was saying without the extra words. He wouldn't be the first young guy not to jive well with the local Alcoholics Anonymous group. Some older, outspoken members occasionally rubbed the younger crowd the wrong way. Not to mention the other peers from Turtle Grove were attending Narcotics Anonymous. She couldn't blame him. He was 72 days clean after five years of nonstop drinking. His emotions were raw and confusing, and he was feeling things he had been numbing for half a decade. He was boomeranging from happy to sad to confused and angry. One of the older guys probably said something a little too close to home. A little too real for him in his current exposed state. "And you think NA would be a better fit?"

"Do you think I'm making the wrong decision?" He asked uncertainty and vulnerability at the edges of his voice. When he first came to Turtle Grove, his face was abnormally round from the excess fluid he was carrying from prolonged alcohol use. Strawberry-colored patches graced his cheeks, and yellow hollows under his eyes looked almost comically pronounced. Now, he looked like a new and improved version. His face was more square, with a dimple in his left cheek. His skin had even cleared.

"I think maybe you should take a day or two before making the decision. Maybe make a list. Divide it into four parts: the pros and cons of attending AA and the pros and cons of attending NA. Be honest about your reasoning, and then look over it the next day and see if one speaks to you more."

He turned his lip up at her. "You know I hate those lists."

She opened her desk drawer to pull out a fork from her little bin of plastic cutlery and an assortment of condiment packets. "No, you don't like how you have to use that noggin of yours to complete the list, because you actually have to think over the pros and cons, which makes you confront the hard truths and lies you tell yourself."

"You don't like lists either," he countered with a laugh.

She stabbed a bite of egg and met his gaze with a smirk. "And that's how I know you don't like lists."

They both laughed, easing them out of the serious moment. He stood, stretching up. "Okay, well, I'm going to go get the newbies and make sure they attend Reflection."

"Sounds good."

He was just at her doorway when he turned back, the boyish uncertainty back on his face. "Can I show you the list when I'm done?"

Warmly smiling, she nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"Thanks, Ms. K," he said before turning to leave. She heard his footsteps echoing through the short back hall and the opening and shutting of the back door. She was alone for the moment and closed her eyes to enjoy the silence before 20 men would be trouncing through the door in a few minutes.