Saved by a Warrior Dog

by Cassidy Wells

  “I’m sorry, MJ. I—”

  She put her hand out to stop him. “I don’t have time to get into anything with you, Rob. Frankly, I’m getting whiplash from your constant change in direction. I thought we’d work on a relationship, but apparently, you have reservations about that. Let me know when you decide what you want.”

  She helped herself to coffee, and turned her back on him.

  “MJ, I know I’m a mess. You deserve somebody who isn’t an emotional cripple, somebody who has his shit together a whole lot more than I do. I’m trying, babe. I see the counselor today, and I’m so scared that I can’t think straight. It’s as if I’m walking into battle unarmed and unprepared. I have no idea what I’m doing.” He hung his head.

  “Do you really think you have to be ‘in charge,’ to be in a relationship with me? You have no idea what I need, do you? I don’t care if you are battle-scarred. You don’t have to be perfect to be with me. Just be real with me. That’s all I ask.”

  “God, I’m sorry. I’ll try.”

  “Okay. We’ll talk more about it tonight. I need to go to work now.” She wasn’t sure if she should kiss him or not, but she leaned in and brushed her mouth against his. “Good luck with the counselor. Just be honest about what’s going on with you.” All she really wanted was somebody to want her and love her, but she wasn’t about to tell him something so pathetic.

  ***

  Rob watched as she closed the door and headed for her car. Man, he’d handled all this so badly. He didn’t want to blow this chance with her. A woman like MJ was more than he’d ever hoped for. His feelings for her had snuck up on him. She liked him, but if he didn’t get his head out of his ass, he’d lose his chance with her. With the stuff going on with him, he might even be putting her at risk. They needed to get to the bottom of who’d started the fire that burned him out of his apartment, and who was threatening Maverick. He needed to make MJ safe. He finished his coffee and eggs, and put the dishes into the dishwasher. “C’mon, Maverick. Let’s go for a run. Maybe the exercise will help my sanity.”

  An hour later, they came back, moving a bit more slowly. Whew. He’d pushed himself in an all-out effort to clear out the cobwebs, and Maverick had kept up beautifully. Now, he’d take a shower, and then head to the VA for his appointment.

  His cell rang as he was getting ready to leave. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Michelini, this is Sheriff Bo Daniels. I wanted to give you the results of the lab tests on the meat MJ found in the backyard.”

  “What was it?”

  “Rat poison. Somebody tried to poison MJ’s dog. I’m going to call her at the library, but keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything suspicious. I’m going to have a patrol swing by several times a day for the next week or so. Don’t know if that will do any good or not. Watch your back.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff. Do you think it would be better for me to find another place to live? I don’t want to put MJ in danger.”

  “I know that, but I think she’s a target, too. Better that you’re there. You’ve got the training to know what to watch for.”

  “Are you going to tell Nick the results, as well?”

  “Yes. Don’t take the law into your own hands, but maybe between the two of you and the patrol, we’ll have a chance of catching the sick bastard who tried to poison a military service dog.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. Maverick isn’t a tracking dog, but at least he’ll know if there’s somebody on the property. I’ll keep you posted.”

  He disconnected the call, and checked to make sure Maverick’s food bowl and water bowl were full. “Stay safe, buddy.” He closed and locked the door, and headed toward his truck. Time to tackle his demons.

  He parked in the large parking lot next to the VA Outpatient Clinic. Taking a deep breath, he entered the building and gave the receptionist his name.

  “It’ll just be a few minutes, Gunnery Sergeant Michelini. You can have a seat, and we’ll call you when Mr. Haggarty is ready for you.”

  He found a chair in the crowded waiting room and didn’t make eye contact with any of the men or women seated there. He could feel his heart pound in his chest and wished this next hour was over. He tried to take a deep breath, but knew he was breathing too shallow. Damn anxiety.

  “Gunnery Sergeant Michelini?” a young woman called.

  He stood up and joined her near the door that led into the area filled with offices. She smiled at him, but he didn’t feel at all reassured, and she seemed to know it.

  “It’ll be okay. I think you’ll find that Mr. Haggarty will help. He’s been doing this a long time.”

  As he entered the counselor’s office, he was surprised to find a man just a few years older than him.

  “I’m Michael Haggarty. I’ll be your counselor. Since we’re going to be working closely together, you can call me Michael, and I hope you’re okay with me calling you Rob. I find that it helps to be informal. Together we’re going to work on moving you beyond the PTSD you’ve been experiencing.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions that will help me figure out what approach will work the best for you. We set goals for our sessions, and hopefully, after a few months, you won’t need to see me anymore. I understand you’ve already met with Dr. Rodriguez, and he’s recommended both individual counseling and the Tuesday night group. He wanted to wait on possible medication to see how you respond to counseling. Do you have any questions before we start?”

  “Yes, actually I do. I wondered if it would all right to read up on PTSD so that I’d know more about it. I’d like to know what to expect from these sessions.” Had this guy ever served in a war zone? Would he understand what Rob had experienced? He didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot by challenging the man’s background, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t just a guinea pig for someone who had only book learning. He’d try to reserve judgment.

  “Not at all. I can give you some references, and the VA has some information available online about trauma. I totally understand why you’d want to know more about what’s involved in treatment of PTSD, more about what causes it, and what will help you recover from it.”

  “Have you seen a lot of people with PTSD?”

  The man laughed. “Oh, yeah. It’s very common with servicemen and women who’ve been deployed to any of the war zones, even if they haven’t seen combat. Plus, I’ve seen it from the other side.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I came back from Operation Enduring Freedom in 2014 with PTSD. I’ve had to conquer it myself. So I have an idea what you’ve been going through, even though PTSD affects each person differently.” Michael smiled at Rob’s open-mouthed shock. “You didn’t expect that, did you? Now, in order for me to figure out what will be the best approach for you, I’d like to know what sort of symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”

  Rob gave him the abbreviated version of his symptoms, when they had begun, and how that last tour in Afghanistan had affected him.

  “How’s your sleep?”

  “Not great. I tend to have nightmares of being back there. Not of what actually happened, but my mind creates new horrors for me and my unit in my dreams.”

  “How often do you have them?”

  “Several times a week.”

  “Do you ever get out of control or violent?”

  “My girlfriend tried to wake me up, and I started to choke her. Thankfully, I came to my senses before I’d hurt her. That’s what made me realize I needed to see somebody.”

  “That’s smart. I’m glad you came. The thing about PTSD is that it tends not to go away on its own. Do you talk with anybody about what happened or what you saw over there?”

  “No. I’ve tried to avoid thinking about all of it. Most of the time it only intrudes at night.”

  They talked a bit more, with Michael asking questions and Rob answering. Occasionally, Michael would make a comment. It hit Rob that he’d been talkin
g about things he hadn’t talked about outside of his unit.

  “I don’t usually talk about this stuff.”

  “I know. How does it feel to talk about it with me?”

  “I’m not sure.” He checked his gut that always told him whether something was okay. “I’m surprised. It feels okay.”

  “Good. We’re going to talk about things that happened to you, and you’ll learn how to manage anxiety, depression, and any problematic thoughts or beliefs you might have related to the trauma. We’re going to use a method of therapy called Cognitive Processing Therapy, which is a type of cognitive therapy. We’ll look where you’ve gotten stuck by thoughts, beliefs, and feelings that have stemmed from the trauma. They might be things that are hard to accept. I’ll ask you to write and read aloud an account of the traumatic events. This approach is designed to help you change your beliefs about the things that usually bother vets: trust, safety, power, control, and intimacy. How does that sound?”

  “Okay, I guess. How long does this approach take?”

  “We’ll have twelve weekly sessions, and then we’ll evaluate your progress. If you need more, we’ll take longer. The more honest you can be, the better the results.”

  “I’ll do my best, Michael.” He’d beat this thing or die trying. Even though he’d been discharged from the Corps, he was still a Marine. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Semper Fi. He reached out and shook the other man’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll see you next week, Rob, and we’ll start looking at the traumatic events. Meanwhile, I’d like you to keep a log of what you experience between now and your next appointment.”

  “Okay.” He turned to leave. He could do this.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The morning dragged. From the time that Sheriff Bo Daniels called to tell her the results of the test on the meat, all MJ thought about was Maverick and Rob. Who would want to hurt a dog as sweet as hers? What sort of subhuman would poison a dog or any other animal? Nobody she knew would do such a thing. Did somebody hate her that much? Her mind catalogued people she knew. She didn’t have enemies. She was a librarian, for goodness’ sake. Other than shushing people who talked too loud, she was friendly and helpful. Not only was that her job, but it was who she was. Her brother Nick was the one who sometimes rubbed people the wrong way. She’d always been a “goody-two-shoes.” She sighed.

  Then there was Rob. He had some really messed-up ideas about whether he deserved her. It wasn’t as if he needed to win her over, like some knight in shining armor. He’d been a Marine, like Trevor. The two of them had fought together, lived together, and then, Trevor had died.

  It suddenly hit her. Did he blame himself for Trevor’s death? Maybe he thought there was something he should have done. Was it survivor’s guilt? That might fit. Was that at the core of his PTSD?

  She shook her head, trying to banish thoughts she wasn’t able to figure out. She’d have to wait until he talked with her about it. Would he ever confide in her about what he was going through? God, please help him get better. Trevor, help me be patient and understanding, she prayed. The combination of God and her guardian angel made her feel less worried.

  She looked at her watch, relieved to see that it was nearly time for lunch. As she microwaved her frozen meal in the break room, she heard the front door open, and peeked out to see who it was.

  Rob. She gazed at his face, eager for a sign that would tell her how his counseling session had gone. He smiled and winked. Her heart rate sped up. She gestured for him to join her. When he did, she closed the glass door for privacy.

  “How did your appointment go?”

  “It went well. My counselor is a former soldier deployed to Iraq during Operation Enduring Freedom. He suffered from PTSD, too, so he knows what it’s like from his own experience. He thought it was fine for me to know more about the condition, so I’d love to have you help me find some resources. I’ll meet with him once a week for the next twelve weeks, talking about what happened and changing how it has affected me. I’m not sure how it works, but today wasn’t nearly as bad as I was afraid it would be.”

  She smiled at him, her pounding heart settling back into a normal rhythm. “I’m so glad, Rob. I’ll help you find some information about PTSD.” Ignoring her lunch in the microwave, she led him back out to the front desk where she searched the library’s computer for “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Military.” She grabbed a pen and a slip of paper to write the seven titles and Library of Congress numbers for their location. “Follow me,” she whispered as she headed toward the stacks on the other side of the room.

  She consulted the paper and led Rob down a long aisle to a section toward the middle. She gestured up to the second shelf. “Here you go. They’re right here in this section.”

  She stood there as he scanned titles and reached up and took one down, riffling through the contents. She reached up and grabbed one of the other books. “This one looks like a self-help book, so it’s written for people who suffer from PTSD, as opposed to a psychology textbook.” She handed it to him, and he checked the table of contents.

  “This one doesn’t seem as daunting as the first one.” He looked up and read titles of two other books, pulling them down one at a time. “What do you think of this one?” He showed her a thick book with an officer in a dress uniform smiling back at them from the back cover. “I like the fact that somebody in the military wrote it.”

  “Yes, I think referencing something written especially for people who have served in combat is a good idea. Although PTSD occurs with other types of trauma, too, this will be more relevant to you than a book about PTSD in rape survivors.”

  Rob nodded. “I’ll start with these two.”

  “Now you’ll need a library card. Luckily, I can vouch for the fact you live in Ridgeview County.”

  They walked back to the main desk, and she gave him a form to fill out. When he finished, she entered the information into the computer, and had the machine print out a small plastic card with his name and a bar code on it. She scanned the books and handed them over. “Two weeks,” she told him as she handed him the books.

  “Thanks for all your help, MJ. It’s been awhile since I researched anything. Hopefully, learning about this will give me more of a handle on it.”

  She nodded and smiled at him. He seemed fully on board to master the PTSD, and she felt more hopeful than she had last night.

  “I’ll take off now. I’ll see you tonight. Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?”

  “Sure, although, I could cook something.”

  “No, I want to go out and celebrate the first step in my recovery.”

  Chill bumps slid down her body. “I can get on board with that. I know going to counseling wasn’t easy.”

  “No, asking for help isn’t something I’m used to doing.” He looked around as if checking to see if anybody was watching. He leaned up and over the desk and gave her a quick kiss.

  She felt herself heat and suspected her face was red. She couldn’t help grinning. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  He turned and walked away, flipping his hand up to wave back at her.

  A glow burned in her chest. Rob was a very special man.

  ***

  When Rob got back to MJ’s house, he attached Maverick’s lead and took him into the backyard. He’d keep him leashed until they had figured out who was trying to harm him and had stopped them. They headed together into the backyard, and Maverick headed immediately toward the large bush in the corner. The Malinois sniffed around it thoroughly before letting out a low-throated growl. He didn’t like whatever or whoever he smelled. At least there wasn’t another plate of meat. Whoever had left it might assume it had done its job. He and MJ would definitely need to keep their eyes open. Maybe he should put in an alarm system. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone threatening MJ or Maverick.

  Once Maverick had done his business, they went back inside, and Rob searched his phone for “alarm companies” in th
e area. Two were in Knoxville, and one was in Ridgeview. He called the Ridgeview number.

  “Protect and Defend Alarm Service, this is Frank speaking,” a man’s voice answered.

  “Do you sell alarm systems or just monitor them?”

  “Both. We have several types we can install, or you can install some types yourself. We can monitor it locally, or get you set up with a national company, if you prefer.”

  Rob explained what he was looking for.

  “I’d like to come over. That way I can better advise you about what type of system you’ll need. It usually depends on the amount of area covered and the layout. Some systems operate on the perimeter of the home itself and others can cover the yard. You’ll decide whether you just need a perimeter alarm on the house itself, or if you want the yard covered.”

  “I definitely think we need to have the yard covered. Somebody came over a five-foot fence and put poisoned meat in the yard for the dog. They hid it under a bush near the fence.”

  “Man, that’s sick. I agree. You’ll want the yard monitored.”

  “When can you come over to look?”

  “I’ve got some time this afternoon.”

  Rob gave him the address, and they made an appointment. He wanted this done. Hopefully, MJ would go along with the idea. Nick would talk her into it, if he couldn’t. He wanted it ordered and paid for before MJ could veto the idea.

  He looked at his watch. He’d grab a sandwich and use the next hour reading a book he’d picked up. He selected the self-help book on PTSD for “warriors.” That was a nice way to think of himself. He took a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich, and opened the book, getting the lay of the land about what it covered.

  Okay, he could do this. He read the introduction and learned how pervasive PTSD was among veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan. It affected eleven to twenty percent of veterans, with more of them affected from a deployment in Iraq than Afghanistan. Interesting. Speculation was that veterans of the Iraq conflicts had seen more combat. He wasn’t sure about that but wouldn’t quibble about the impact either conflict had on vets like him. He didn’t need to win a contest about who had it worse. As far as he could tell from talking to other people who’d served in both countries, the experiences sucked, period.