2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
W ill followed the tall therapist into an adorable room with bright-yellow walls, a desk with an ergonomic chair, as well as a couch with two stuffed chairs across from it.
Justin indicated Will should sit wherever he wanted.
Eyeing the dog, Will gazed around.
“Rex is allowed on the furniture. The rule is, he has to wait to be invited.” Justin chuckled. “Something tells me he didn’t earlier.”
Will returned the smile. “Uh, no. But I love enthusiasm.” He dropped onto the couch and patted his thigh.
Rex leapt up, turned twice, found the right spot, and settled with a sigh.
“That was easy.”
Justin sat in a plush chair facing him. “He’s an easy dog. Rescues can be tricky. He has weird habits. He cowers from some people—even those who clearly would never do him harm. That being said, he’s so good with kids. Avery mostly counsels adults, but Rex sometimes sneaks in with Denise when she’s helping a child.”
“You see a lot of kids up here?”
“Well, yeah. Kids have problems. Usually different problems than adults…although sometimes the same. Grief, mental illness, trauma…those are pretty universal.”
“It makes me sad to think of kids who face those things.”
“Did you have a sheltered childhood?”
Will cocked his head. “I don’t know if sheltered would be the right word. Although, I guess, yeah—if we’re talking about trauma, grief, and mental illness. I was well into my twenties before my grandparents passed. I lost my parents a few years later in a car crash. Three years later, my wife died.” He breathed deeply. “So, lots of grief—just all jammed into my adulthood.”
“How old are you now?” Justin pointed to his desk. “Sorry, I meant to study your intake form, but my daughter injured her foot this morning, and that was just one massive crisis.”
“Is she all right?”
“My husband dropped off our son at school and is running Opal to the walk-in clinic to make sure she’s okay. She’s…a sensitive child. Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish what’s actual physical pain and what’s psychological.”
“Probably helps that her dad’s a psychologist.”
Justin smiled. “Not a psychologist yet. I’m in the PhD program. I’m a licensed counsellor.”
Will waved his hand. “Doesn’t make a difference to me. Like I said, I don’t actually need to be here.”
The counsellor cocked his head. “I don’t know…that sounded like a lot of grief.”
“And you’re wondering if I’ve processed all of it?”
“Well, yes.”
Will petted Rex with long, gentle strokes. “My grandparents were in their eighties and went within weeks of each other. Lives well-lived. My parents died together in the crash—killed instantly. The way they would’ve chosen to go, although they should’ve had another good thirty years or so. Still, I could accept that. I had my wife to see me through that.”
“And your wife?”
Closing his eyes, Will sought a moment of grace. “Yeah, that one’s tougher.” He blinked. “Okay, like this is a sad story.”
“I’m here to listen. You can take this at your own pace.”
“Yeah.” Will rubbed his face. “Darla and I met in our twenties. I was hired to work at her uncle’s cattle ranch in Longview, Alberta. Cattle country. Exactly where I wanted to be. I hadn’t expected to meet someone. Hadn’t gone there planning to fall in love.”
“But you did.”
“I did.” He offered up a smile that came from deep in his soul. “She was one of those special people. You meet them and you know you’re in rarified company.”
“I get it.” Justin smiled serenely. “I’m married to one of those people. Only he didn’t recognize it. I did.”
Will gazed up at the ceiling, liking the pristine white. “Well, Darla had an inkling she was special, but she never played on that. After spending just a handful of hours with her, I knew. I asked her uncle if I could court her—if she was willing. He said yes, she agreed, we went out on five dates, and she said she wanted to get married.”
Justin whistled. “That was quick.”
“Well, I would’ve agreed after the first one. I didn’t want to push her. I just…knew. Anyway, we married a month later, and we moved into a cabin on her uncle’s property. I thought I might chafe, being under such close scrutiny, but it just worked. She spent her days in the kitchen, cooking for the ranch hands. I worked the horses and spent my nights with her.” He swallowed. “All that was missing was the baby she badly wanted.”
“That’s rough.”
“I know, right?” He offered a sheepish smile. “But the tryin’ was fun. Except when it became more clinical.” He rubbed his forehead. “I said we could adopt. Or become foster parents. Lots of kids out there needing love.”
Justin nodded. “I’m a foster parent myself. Well, was. We’re in the process of adopting the little girl. Opal.”
“Can I see a picture?”
Noticeable hesitation. “We’re supposed to be talking about you…”
“Oh, my story winds up being pretty quick.” Will leaned forward, still stroking Rex’s fur. “I really would love to see your daughter. I mean, if it’s too personal—”
“No, it’s all right.” Justin stood, then moved to his desk. “I live in Mission City with my husband, son, and now Opal. If you’re in town, you might run into us. I would never approach you, of course.”
“But if I approached you?” Will took the photo in the pewter frame. He whistled.
Rex’s ears perked. He glanced between the two men. Then resettled.
Will grinned. “That’s a mighty fine family you have. Handsome husband, adorable kids…” He squinted. “Unmistakable resemblance between your husband and your son.” He offered the frame back. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Justin moved back to his desk to set the photo down. “Stanley is actually Angus’s biological uncle. Angus’s parents died tragically, and Stanley was named guardian. Somehow, we just all came together, adding Opal a few months later.” He sat back on the chair.
Will wagged a finger. “There’s more to that story.”
“Yes, but we really aren’t here to talk about me.” Justin casually crossed his leg so one ankle rested on his knee. “You’re right, we’ve got time. Take it at your own pace.”
“Nothing much to tell. Darla got pregnant, and we were over the moon.” Will fought the pain threatening to break free. “And everything was going okay until it wasn’t. I was on a cattle run, and when I got home, I found Darla feverish and delirious. I called an ambulance and managed to figure out she’d been cramping. She didn’t want to lose the baby and was convinced the doctor would take the baby away from her. All kinds of weird rantings.” Again, he rubbed his forehead. “By the time she got to a doctor, she was septic. If I’d just gotten her there earlier… We lost the baby, and then, a few hours later, I lost her. Just…gone.”
“You must’ve been devastated.”
Will gently nudged Rex to a cushion and popped off the sofa and paced. “Yeah. Mad, too, you know. Mad I wasn’t there. Mad Darla didn’t get help. Mad the universe didn’t want me to be a father…”
“That’s a lot of grief.”
“Right? And on top of losing my parents so tragically in that car crash… I just felt cursed. So I decided right then and there that I was never going to fall in love again.”
Justin tilted his head. “I won’t argue. But I’ll say that love has a way of creeping up on you when you least expect it.”
“Oh, trust me, on the range I can see for miles. I know everything that’s coming.”
“Fair enough.”
He doesn’t believe me. “Well, I kept going. Kinda zombie-like. Just getting through each day and putting one foot in front of the other. I moved out of the cabin and into the bunkhouse. The cabin was meant for a couple and eventually a family. That wasn’t me.”
“Must’ve been rough to stay on the ranch.”
Maybe he does get it . “Times were tough those years, and getting a job was even tougher. I had a safe place and an employer who understood my grief—he’d lost his niece, after all. He let me wallow. Didn’t push me to talk about it .”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.”
He rolled his eyes, then gingerly dropped back to the couch. “There’s a reason.”
Rex resettled on Will’s lap, completely unperturbed.
“Your sister, you said.”
“Yep. Damn interfering woman.” Will sighed. “MaryAnn lives in Mission City. She’s pestered me for the past five years to come and visit.”
“So you did.”
“Yep.” He winced. “And I’m not a city boy. Never was—even though I was raised in one. Anyway, I went for a walk and was on the bridge.”
“The Mission-Abby bridge?”
“That’s the one. I wanted to see the Fraser River. Commune with nature a little. Noisy traffic, but I could block that out. River was gentle.”
“Tends to be, this time of year. Wait until the spring comes and the snowmelt happens upriver. The river will rise several feet and, depending how rapidly the snow melts, the current can strengthen.”
Will nodded. “Well, I’m not going to be here in the spring, so I’ll take your word for it.”
Justin straightened abruptly.
“Oh Jesus. Not you too.” Will scowled. “I only meant I’d be back in Alberta. Sheesh. Everyone thinks I’m suicidal.”
The counsellor only relaxed a fraction.
“I was on the bridge, looking over, and…I tripped.”
“Tripped?”
“Yeah, my boot caught on a rock or something, and I righted myself. Next thing I know, RCMP officers are there, hauling me into a squad car. For my protection . They took me to the hospital in Abbotsford and everything. No one would listen to me. The psychiatrist called MaryAnn, and…” Huffing a frustrated sigh, he rubbed his forehead. “She agreed to watch over me if I agreed to come for counselling.”
“Tripped, you say.”
“Seriously, man.” He met the deep-blue eyes of the counsellor. “I wasn’t suicidal. Yes, that day was the five-year anniversary of Darla’s death. Yes, I was mourning her and our baby boy. But I’d never kill myself. I’d never risk bringing that kind of grief to Darla’s uncle or to my sister and her family.”
“So here you are.”
“Yeah, here I am.” He sighed. “So can you sign off that I’m fine? That I’m not suicidal? Then I can go on my way—”
Justin held up a hand. “I would need more time. You telling me you’re fine and me actually ascertaining that fact for myself are two very different things.” He rose. “Why don’t we go meet the horses?”
Will cuddled Rex, eased him onto the floor, then popped up again. “Now you’re talking my language.”