Chapter 2
Simeon tipped his coffee cup back, grimacing as the lukewarm liquid coated his tongue. With a sigh, he plunked the mug on the corner of his desk, resisting the urge to venture into the small reception area to refill it. He’d already had three cups, and he needed to save some for his clients. He glanced at the time on his computer screen. Eleven o’clock. Three more hours until Abigail’s doctor appointment. He scrubbed a hand down his freshly shaved cheek, wondering if he should call to make sure she’d gotten out of bed.
Not that she’d been sleeping when he’d left. They’d been married long enough that he could tell the difference between her fake sleep, with its deep, even breaths, and her real sleep, with its uneven, soft half-snores. But he hadn’t had the energy to call her out. And even if he had, it wouldn’t have changed anything. She would have said everything was fine, just as she always did, then rolled over and gone back to sleep for real.
He tried not to take it personally. It was the depression. Diagnosing it wasn’t the problem. Neither was discerning the cause. The losses they’d experienced over the last two years would leave anyone reeling.
No, the problem was that she wouldn’t let him—or anyone else—help her.
So he went on, day after day, acting like he knew exactly how to help other people sort out their lives, how to help couples renew their marriages, when his own was unraveling. It felt like there were only a few stitches left. And once those let go, he wasn’t sure there’d be any way to mend their relationship.
He picked up the framed photo of the two of them in Ecuador that adorned his desk, rubbing at a smudge that marred the glass over Abigail’s smile. Maybe they’d rushed into things too quickly. He certainly hadn’t planned to meet anyone on that mission trip—let alone propose marriage to her. But she’d upturned all his carefully laid plans with that smile. And he’d known almost immediately that it was a smile he wanted to wake up to every day for the rest of his life.
He tried to remember the last time he’d seen it—a real, genuine smile—rather than the strained “everything’s fine” smile she’d put on for months now. Maybe his own certainty that they were right for each other hadn’t been enough. Maybe he should have given her more time . . .
A bell jingled as the exterior door out in the waiting area opened, and Simeon set the picture down, giving a quick glance at his schedule. Wendy Storm. Good. He needed a relatively “easy” client right now, and Wendy was always more than willing to talk—and eager to hear his suggestions and report on her progress. He only wished he could have helped her and her husband Jeff more—but Simeon had only met with them a few times before Jeff had decided he’d had enough and left her. The day she’d walked into his office alone, crying, Simeon had been devastated. It wasn’t his first failure as a counselor, but he’d really thought they’d been making progress.
Wendy’s depression after the divorce had been hard, but she’d been willing to seek help. Willing to talk. Willing to do all the things Abigail refused to do.
Simeon shook his head and closed the file of notes he’d been making. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that Abigail refused. It was that she was so far down, she couldn’t see the way out. That was what he needed to help her with—no matter how long it took. He wouldn’t give up on her.
Simeon blew out a breath and tried to refocus his attention on the client he was about to counsel. He closed his eyes and bowed his head to pray as he did before every session. Dear Lord, give me wisdom and guidance as I counsel Wendy. Help her to see that even when the love of people fails, your love never will. Help my love for my wife never to fail. Help me figure out how to reach her, Lord. He cut himself off. This prayer was supposed to be for Wendy. Help Wendy continue to heal, Lord. Amen.
Simeon opened his eyes and got up slowly, still working to let go of thoughts of Abigail. Being a counselor meant he had to put his personal life aside, even when it was hard.
He opened the door that led from his office to the small waiting area.
“Good morning.” Wendy jumped up from one of the cozy armchairs Abigail had helped him pick out a few years ago to replace the stiff chairs he’d had before.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Wendy smiled broadly, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder.
“I— Uh.” Simeon glanced toward the large windows that looked over the small parking lot and the Serenity River beyond it. He hadn’t even noticed the weather when he left home this morning, but the sky was a bright, cloudless blue, the mountains that skirted the town carpeted in the green of late spring. “Yes, it is. Come on in.”
He stood aside to let her pass through the doorway into his office, then followed her to the leather chairs arranged around a small coffee table. The furniture made the space feel more like a living room than an office. That was Abigail’s doing too.
Wendy dropped into what had become “her” chair, and Simeon sat across from her.
“So, how are you today?” Wendy slid off her shoes and folded her bare feet under her.
Simeon laughed. “I think that’s supposed to be my question to you.”
“Who asks you then?” Wendy peered shrewdly at him.
Simeon swallowed. It used to be Abigail. But it had been a long time since she had asked anything about him—how was work, how was he. None of that seemed to matter to her anymore.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he answered Wendy’s first question, skipping the second.
He was always fine. That was his job. To be fine so he could help others who weren’t fine. “And how are you doing?”
“Really great.” Wendy leaned forward, as if the momentum of her happiness might pull her out of her chair. “You know that job I applied for? At Zelensky and Baker? I got it!”
“That’s great.” Simeon felt his own lips lift into a smile. He spent so much time listening to clients’ troubles that it made him extra joyful when he had cause to celebrate good news with them. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Wendy’s cheeks flushed. “And that’s not my only good news.”
“No? What else?”
“I’m in love.” Wendy pressed her palms together in front of her heart.
Simeon had years of practice in not registering surprise or skepticism at clients’ revelations. And this certainly wasn’t the wildest he’d ever heard. But it still tested his ability to retain a neutral expression. “That’s rather sudden, don’t you think?” he asked.
Wendy shook her head. “Actually, I think it’s been coming on for a long time now. I was just too caught up in everything with the divorce to recognize it at first. But he was there for me through all of that, and now—” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I think I’m finally ready.”
Simeon considered his next words. He didn’t want to put a damper on her enthusiasm, and yet he had a responsibility to make sure she wasn’t being taken advantage of. “You said he was there for you through the divorce. You were very vulnerable during that time. Is there a chance he took advantage of that fact?”
Wendy shook her head emphatically. “It’s not like that. He has no idea I feel this way. I didn’t even realize it myself until I was journaling like you told me to. I was kind of daydreaming, I guess, about the ideal man, and it hit me—” She slapped herself on the forehead. “I already know him.”
“Okay. I feel like there are a few things to unpack there.” Simeon made a quick list in his head.
“I knew you would.” Wendy’s smile lit up her whole face. Maybe she really was in love.
Simeon thought wistfully of Abigail’s smile but pushed the image out. This wasn’t about him and his wife.
“Let’s start with this.” He directed his attention back to Wendy. “What were some of the things you wrote about this ideal man you’re looking for?” Simeon could only hope her answer wouldn’t be too wildly unrealistic.
“Well, a good listener. Someone who really hears me, you know? Who doesn’t just nod and smile when I talk.”
Simeon found himself nodding with relief. Those were realistic expectations. “And you feel like this guy is a good listener?”
“Oh yes,” Wendy gushed. “We’ve talked for hours, and he never tires of listening to me. And I can tell he really cares what I think.”
You’re a really good listener, do you know that?Abigail had said that to Simeon moments before their first kiss.
He forced his thoughts back to the present. “How can you tell that?” he asked Wendy.
She tapped her lip, then leaned forward. “He asks questions, like he wants to understand me better. And he remembers what I say, even weeks later.”
“That’s good. But you said he doesn’t know how you feel?” Simeon asked carefully. The last thing Wendy needed was to have her heart broken by some guy who didn’t reciprocate her feelings.
“No.” Wendy bit her lip. “Not yet.”
“So you’re thinking about telling him?”
Wendy shrugged, looking uncertain. “Do you think I should?”
Simeon hesitated. This wasn’t a matter of right or wrong, so he couldn’t really give her a yes or no answer. What he could do, though, was give her some things to consider.
“Do you think he reciprocates your feelings?”
Wendy nodded slowly. “I think he might.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Simeon asked gently. “Are you ready to deal with that?”
Wendy’s head stopped bobbing. “I’m not sure,” she said quietly. “I don’t want him to hate me.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t hate you,” Simeon reassured her. “But it might change your relationship. You need to be prepared for that.”
“So you don’t think I should tell him?” Wendy’s face fell.
“I’m not saying that.” Simeon considered how to phrase it. “I’m saying there’s a risk. But some things are worth the risk.” He happened to believe love was one of them. After all, that was how he’d ended up proposing to Abigail after only three months.
But then, given the current state of their relationship, maybe that wasn’t the best example. “It’s just something to think about,” he told Wendy. “Before you move forward.”
Wendy chewed her lip. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Their talk turned to other topics Wendy had journaled about, including her childhood trauma in the foster care system. Every time she talked about it, Simeon wondered if this was what Abigail’s experience in the system had been like too. But unlike Wendy, who talked about it openly, Abigail had said she’d rather forget the past. But maybe, if he—
“So anyway—”
Simeon startled as he realized he had no idea what Wendy had just said. How long had he tuned her out?
“I think maybe that’s why I was drawn to Jeff, don’t you?” Wendy continued.
“It could be,” Simeon answered hesitantly.
“You don’t think so?” Wendy leaned forward.
Simeon kicked himself. He couldn’t agree or disagree with something he hadn’t heard—but he couldn’t really explain to Wendy that he hadn’t been listening to her.
“There are probably a lot of reasons.” Simeon tried to cover his lapse. “It’s rarely one simple answer.” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. “Oops. It looks like we went over our time.”
Wendy giggled. “That’s nothing new.”
“True.” Simeon stood and waited for her to do the same.
He escorted her toward the door, but halfway there, she stopped and turned toward him so abruptly that he nearly plowed her over. She grabbed his arm to steady herself.
“Sorry.” Though she was wearing heels, she came up only to his chin, and she tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“No, I mean, for everything. For listening. For not laughing me out of here when I said I was in love. I know it sounds crazy, but . . .”
“It’s not crazy.” Simeon subtly maneuvered his arm out from under her hand and started toward the door again. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all. So you don’t end up getting hurt.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
Simeon shrugged uncomfortably. He hadn’t said it to be sweet; this was his job.
“Can I ask you one more favor?” Wendy paused in the doorway to the waiting area. “Would you pray for me?”
“I always do.” Simeon opened the office door and ushered her out.
“Thank you,” she said with another wide smile. “I always feel so much better after talking to you.”
Simeon waited until she was outside to close his office door. He let out a breath and rubbed at his temples. He was fortunate Wendy hadn’t noticed how much his mind had wandered during their session. He had better get it together before his next client showed up. It was his job to help them with their problems. Regardless of his own.