BOH 8-21-07 (00178434).DOC Read online

  her. He walked to the couch and covered her with a quilt.

  For a few seconds he rested his knuckles against her

  cheek. As much as he wished for her sake that soon life

  would look brighter, he knew damned well that wasn’t the

  case.

  ****

  Cyn woke shivering in the early morning as cool air blew through the slightly opened window. Surely, the

  temperature tickled the freezing mark. Late last night,

  she’d woke on the couch and sought the sanctuary of her

  bedroom.

  Snuggling back under the covers, she thought about

  yesterday. She’d said her final goodbye to Peter. Seeing

  all his friends and comrades had given her courage. She

  now regretted that she’d brushed off the other military

  wives attempts to get to know her. Making friends had

  always been so hard. She’d always been afraid to trust,

  afraid she’d be hurt. So she’d clung to Peter as a friend, as

  well as a lover. Now he was gone and she accepted that

  she’d made a mistake by isolating herself.

  “Get up, Katy. You’ll be late for school.”

  Hearing Mike’s voice in the hall, Cyn bolted upright.

  She’d forgotten about her appointment.

  Damn. In one fluid motion, she was out of bed,

  grabbing everything she needed on her way to the

  bathroom.

  The shower’s hot spray woke her better than a super

  dose of caffeine. She scanned her features in the mirror

  and groaned at the dark circles under her eyes.

  Determined to face life head on, she dug into her bag of

  makeup.

  An hour later, a young secretary ushered her into the

  doctor’s office. The large room didn’t look or feel like a

  psychiatrist’s work area. It reminded Cyn more of a

  history professor’s office.

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  Pam Champagne

  A large desk sat in one corner with four comfortable

  cushioned chairs casually arranged around the front.

  There was even a coffee table. To her left, cheery flames

  danced around logs in the fireplace.

  She rose and moved to the large windows overlooking

  a residential neighborhood with a quiet park across the

  street. Children chased each other in a game of tag,

  slipping and sliding in the early spring mud. Some of the

  older ones attempted to fly kites in the slight breeze of the

  late April day.

  “Good afternoon, Cynthia.” Cyn turned to face a

  young, smiling woman. “I’m Dr. Amanda Wentworth. I’m

  glad to see you’ve made yourself at home.”

  Cyn’s anger at being here gave way to a flood of

  courage. “So is this where you pick my brain and lay the

  pieces on the desk?” She frowned at the counselor’s laugh.

  “What’s so funny? Isn’t that why I’m here? To be taken

  apart, fixed and then put back together?”

  “I’m surprised someone as young as you has such an

  archaic view of mental health treatment.”

  Cyn brushed an invisible piece of lint off her skirt.

  “Yeah? Well, I’ve had a few sessions with a shrink in my

  life.” The doctor settled in the chair behind her desk. “Care

  to share?”

  Cyn caught herself twisting the handle of her

  handbag. She set it on the floor. Dredging up memories of

  her mother and father hurt. She took a deep breath. “My

  parents were killed in a car accident during my

  honeymoon. Peter…er…my husband suggested I seek

  help for my depression.”

  “Smart man. Did it help?”

  She shrugged. “I guess.” At the time, she’d gone

  through the motions during her therapy sessions. Peter

  had been the one she’d leaned on through the hard times.

  “You’ve certainly been handed a plateful of grief in

  your short life. It’s a shame you’re trying to cope on your

  own. I can help you.”

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  Bridge of Hope

  Cyn widened her eyes in mock surprise. “You do

  realize the reason I’m here, don’t you?”

  “I’m hoping it’s because you want closure and to

  accept the loss of your husband.”

  “I’m here because I considered jumping off the Hope

  River Bridge. Agreeing to get counseling beat spending

  thirty days observation in psychiatric hospital.”

  Dr. Wentworth rose and came around to the front of

  her desk where she sat in one of the chairs next to Cyn.

  “And how did having no choice make you feel?”

  “Pissed off,” Cyn said, not caring how ungrateful she

  sounded.

  Again the woman laughed. “We’re off to a great start.

  You’re open and honest and that’s a most important part

  of the healing process.”

  Cyn managed to control the urge to demonstrate to

  the lady just how open and honest she could be. She’d go

  through the motions, and at the end, she’d show everyone

  that she’d finally accepted her loss and was ready to move

  on with her life.

  So what if she had to lie through her teeth?

  29

  Pam Champagne

  Chapter Five

  Cyn glanced away from the flowers blooming in the

  backyard and gathered flour, sugar and eggs. “What kind

  of cookies do you want to make?”

  “Chocolate chip!” Katy yelled, jumping up and down.

  The huge smile on the little girl’s face lifted Cyn’s

  spirits. “Then chocolate chip it is. Get a bowl from the

  cupboard under the—”

  “I know where Mommy kept it.” Katy dropped to her

  knees and squirmed her way to the back of the cupboard.

  Obviously, nothing had been moved in the house since her

  mother’s death. That was a good thing. Or was it?

  Through her twelve sessions with Dr. Wentworth, she’d

  learned that change sometimes worked as a catalyst for

  grieving people to get their lives on track. For others,

  change might put them back to square one in the healing

  process.

  By the time Katy found a wooden spoon and dragged

  a stool over to the counter, Cyn had readied everything

  she needed. She added all the ingredients to the glass

  bowl and encouraged Katy to mix it.

  Less than three minutes later, Katy said, “It’s getting

  hard to stir, Cyn. Can you take over?”

  “Sure. Adding all those chocolate chips certainly

  slows down the mixing process. I’ll finish stirring while

  you spray the cookie sheets. They’ll soon be ready for the

  oven.”

  Katy stood on the stool and helped Cyn spoon cookie

  dough onto the baking pans. The oven door no sooner shut

  on the first batch and Katy danced around the linoleum

  clapping her hands. “I’m so excited. This is the first time

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  Bridge of Hope

  since my mom—the first time in a long time that I’ve

  made cookies.”

  Cyn pulled the child into her arms and tried not to

  fret about how right it felt to comfort her. “You miss your

  mother a great deal.”

  “Not like I used to, but having a mom is a good thing.

  They�
�re different than daddies. I love having you here.

  Almost like….”

  Cyn pretended not to notice when Katy trailed off.

  Would her constant presence in Katy’s life cause the child

  more unnecessary pain? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to

  see that Katy had grown attached to her in the past three

  months.

  Scooping the dirty dishes off the counter, Cyn filled

  the sink with hot sudsy water. “Perhaps some day you’ll

  have another mother. Your dad might meet someone,

  and—”

  Katy stomped her foot. “No!” Face red, eyes pooling

  with tears, she stood with her hands on her hips, her

  lower jaw thrust forward. “My daddy will never marry

  anyone unless I say so.”

  The oven timer buzzed. Cyn breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Let’s set these babies on a rack to cool. They should be

  ready to eat when your dad gets home.”

  “I wish Daddy could work regular hours like Misty’s

  Dad does,” Katy said, her earlier thoughts tucked away,

  or at least so Cyn hoped.

  “Yep, weird hours are something military families get

  used to.”

  Katy tilted her head, looking up at her. “You smile

  more than when you first came. Do you still miss your

  husband?”

  Cyn’s tongue went numb. Did she miss Peter as

  much as she had three months ago? The sharp pain had

  dulled somewhat. She could now talk about him and their

  new life without bursting into tears. This was a good

  thing. Then why did guilt prick her conscience?

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  Pam Champagne

  A scrumptious scent hit Mike full force as soon as he

  opened the door. It had been so long since he’d smelled

  fresh baked cookies that it took him a minute to realize

  what it was. He’d opened his mouth to call out just as

  Katy asked her question.

  Lurking like a fugitive in his own home, he leaned

  against the wall and waited for Cyn’s answer.

  “Well, yes.” Mike heard the hesitancy in her voice. “I

  imagine I’ll always miss him, but I’ve accepted that he’s

  gone. Being sad won’t bring him back.”

  “Just like my mommy,” Katy said. “Do you still love

  him?”

  “A person doesn’t stop loving someone when they die.

  You still love your mommy.”

  “Yes, but….”

  Katy spoke too low for him to hear her answer. After

  a long moment of silence, Mike pushed away from the

  wall to enter the kitchen.

  “You could marry daddy and me.”

  Mike’s stomach plummeted before shooting up into

  his throat at his daughter’s bold statement.

  Cyn laughed. “People get married because they’re in

  love, Katy. Not to please little girls.”

  “Don’t you love me?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Then, why can’t you be my mommy?”

  “Your father and I aren’t...we don’t...there are other

  considerations.”

  Mike backtracked to the front door, opened and

  slammed it shut. “Hello! Smells great in here.”

  If he hadn’t heard the conversation, he’d have figured

  the flushing in Cyn’s cheeks came from the oven. Her gaze

  barely brushed his before she tossed the baking dishes

  into a sink of soapy water.

  Katy launched herself into his arms. “Daddy! You’re

  just in time for cookies and milk.”

  Mike held his daughter, giving her a hard hug. “I

  swear you get bigger every day. One of these days, I’m not

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  Bridge of Hope

  going to be able to lift you.”

  “Me and Cyn made cookies. Your favorite. Chocolate

  chip.”

  “Hmmm. I smelled them before I opened the door.”

  “Katy, go wash up and get your jammies on. Then

  you can have a snack before bed.”

  Katy slid to the floor and ran to do Cyn’s bidding.

  “’Kay. Be right back.”

  Mike caught and held Cyn’s gaze. “First time I’ve

  seen her so willing to get ready for bed.”

  Cyn looked everywhere but at him. “We need to talk.

  There’s a slight problem with Katy.”

  Mike reached into the cupboard for some plates and

  glasses. He glanced over his shoulder, keeping a poker

  face. “What kind of problem? Did something happen in

  school?”

  She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. She’s

  decided that you and I...that we should get married.” Her

  gaze dropped to the floor.

  Mike bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

  Seemed he and his daughter were traveling the same

  track. “Is that right?”

  Her head jerked up. “It’s not healthy that she’s

  wishing for something that’s not going to happen.”

  “So you set her straight?”

  She fidgeted with the dishcloth in her hands. “I tried,

  but I couldn’t find the right words. Besides, you’re her

  father. You should be the one to explain.”

  Mike smiled. “Okay. Consider it done. Fix up a plate

  with some cookies, and I’ll take it upstairs.”

  Cyn’s stomach fluttered at the sound of Mike’s heavy

  boots descending the stairs. He’d been gone almost an

  hour.

  The question burst out the moment he walked in the

  kitchen. “Did you talk to her?”

  “I tried.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He brushed the back of his hand over his eyes, a

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  Pam Champagne

  gesture he often did when he was tired. “She’s insistent

  that we’d make a great family. Even wants a brother and

  sister thrown into the deal. Not either or, but one of each.”

  Cyn worried the towel she’d been folding. “Maybe I

  should leave. These fantasies can’t be healthy.”

  “I agree. About her fantasies, not about you leaving.

  Perhaps now is a good time for you to move to the

  apartment. Your belongings are there ready and waiting.”

  Dread slammed her hard. The thought of leaving this

  house, a place she’d come to think of as home, brought a

  lump to her throat. In moderation, change will help you

  grow. Somehow, Dr. Wentworth’s words didn’t make her

  feel any better.

  “Do you think that will help? She’d still see me

  everyday.”

  Mike’s intense green eyes bored into her soul,

  searching…for what? “I think a gradual move will better

  prepare her for when you decide to head out on your own.”

  She reeled at his words. Where was this coming

  from? Her inner voice whispered there was more to this

  than Katy’s feelings. “Mike, be honest with me. Do you

  want me to leave? I can do that. It might take me a few

  weeks to get my bearings, but—” Great. Now she sounded

  like a panicked fool. Without a backward look, she left the

  kitchen.

  Mike dogged her heels to the living room and clasped

  her trembling hands. “Hey, look at me.” He tilted her chin

  when she refused to meet his eyes. “I’m not trying to get

&
nbsp; rid of you. You know better than that. I suggested what I

  feel is best for everyone.” He playfully cuffed her chin.

  “I’m getting used to having you around twenty-four -

  seven. Maybe we all need a reality check.”

  He gaze slid away from his. “I guess so. I’ll start

  straightening out the apartment.”

  Mike stopped touching her and took a step back.

  “How’d your visit with Dr. Wentworth go today?”

  Cyn busied herself folding laundry. “I like her. She’s

  a nice woman.”

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  Bridge of Hope

  “Yes, she is. She put up with me while I grieved for

  Mary Jo.”

  Mention of his wife, softened any remaining hard

  feelings that lingered at Mike for forcing her into this

  therapy. “How long did you see her?”

  He flopped on the couch. “About six months of weekly

  visits.”

  Her gaze moved from the muscles in his thighs to the

  scar on his chin. Her breath hitched. For the first time she

  saw Mike as a flesh and blood man. Not any man, but one

  that caused her heart to race a bit faster.

  He yawned. “Then for the next six months, I’d call to

  make an appointment if I felt myself slipping.”

  Her jaw dropped. “A whole year?”

  “Everyone’s different. Some accept their loss faster

  than others. I was slow.”

  “Maybe because of Katy.”

  “Possibly.”

  Cyn took steps toward the couch and stopped short.

  What the hell was she doing? She backtracked to the

  laundry. “Katy and I didn’t eat all the beef stew. Want a

  bowl?”

  Yawning again, he swung his long legs off the couch.

  “No thanks. My stomach’s full of cookies. I think I’ll just

  hit the hay. It’s been a long night.”

  With a nod, he climbed the stairs. Cyn finished

  folding Katy’s clothes and thought about the huge void

  he’d left behind. With her therapist’s help, she’d come to

  terms that as much as she loved Peter, she’d depended on

  him for her happiness. A very unhealthy situation. She

  mustn’t allow herself to go from one dependent

  relationship to another. And the physical stirrings she

  experienced around Mike made her doubly cautious.

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  Pam Champagne