by Amy Woods
Dr. Santiago nodded, urging Avery to go on.
“He took me to his training facility the next week and introduced me to a dog that he’d been working with. They hadn’t found a person for him yet, so Isaac asked if I might be interested in training with the dog—Foggy—and of course I was. I’ve always loved dogs. We’ve been working together a little bit every day, and Isaac and I have been on a couple of wonderful dates. This weekend, we’re going to the 5K walk/run for the local animal shelter. It’ll be a good place for Foggy and I to practice being around a bunch of people and dogs at the same time, plus a lot of other stimulation, though I have no doubt we’ll do wonderfully.”
“That sounds marvelous, Avery. I’m so very happy for you.”
“It is. It is marvelous. I feel so lucky, you know. Sometimes it takes ages for people who need them to get service dogs, yet this one just sort of fell into my lap and I have no idea why.”
“Who knows why? But this is a good thing for you, Avery. I’m giving you full permission to enjoy it. In fact, that’s my medical advice for you in this situation. Enjoy it to the fullest.”
Avery laughed, but she did let the doctor’s words sink in. “I’m just not sure I deserve something so amazing.”
“Oh, but you do. I cannot convince you of that—it’s something we’ve talked about previously and it’s something you know you’ll have to come to embrace on your own—but you very much do deserve good things in life.”
Avery nodded, trying hard not to argue with what, on some level she hadn’t yet acknowledged, she knew to be the truth.
“Another thing—I’ve seen this many times—your insurance may or may not have covered a service animal if you had sought one on your own and put in a claim, and in my experience, they can cost twenty-thousand dollars or more. In this field, we are just beginning to understand how valuable these interspecies relationships can be, and we know almost without a doubt that dogs, horses and even other animals can serve as excellent helpers with victims of psychological trauma, but we’ve only scratched the surface of compiling enough solid research to convince the insurance companies of the numerous benefits.”
Avery’s eyes widened at the amount. She had never even thought about getting a dog to help with her PTSD. Not until she’d met Isaac. But now, now that she’d met Foggy and spent time with him, she could see his incredible value, and she knew firsthand that it took a long time and a lot of funding to train a service dog. More important, she missed him every second he was away from her, almost as much as she did Isaac. Even then, as the two guys waited for her in the lobby, she had a hard time fathoming her life without either. She needed them. It was a huge sign of weakness, of vulnerability, to need them, she knew. But it was also completely normal. It was human.
“So, in my opinion, based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’ve stumbled upon a very favorable situation.”
Avery beamed. She hadn’t known she’d wanted Dr. Santiago’s advice, but now that she had it, she felt even better. She knew, and her doctor knew, that she wasn’t one to jump headfirst into things that she wasn’t 100 percent confident about. It was a leap of faith to choose to trust Isaac, and even though she was still skeptical that any person could be trusted, she knew he was worthy.
“Thank you, Dr. Santiago. That means a lot to me.”
“You like him very much, don’t you?”
“Yes, very much. In fact, I think I might even be falling in love with him.”
“I haven’t seen you looking this well or thinking this positively since we met, you know.”
“I know.”
Sensing that their session was drawing close to the end of its allotted hour, Avery pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans and slipped her finger across the screen to wake it up. Sure enough, it was almost time for her to go. She usually hated leaving these appointments, knowing that her world would be unsteady until the next one, that she’d miss Dr. Santiago’s sanctuary of an office and the woman herself more than was possibly healthy. But today was different. Today, she had time with Isaac and Foggy to look forward to. They were waiting outside the door. For her. And she couldn’t wait to see them again and to find out what Isaac had in store for their afternoon.
Their dates were always so much better than just going out to dinner, though they had done plenty of that, as well. So far, Isaac had taken her to pick fresh peaches at the orchards of their town’s namesake, which they’d taken home and baked into an incredible cobbler. They’d been boating at the lake, window-shopping downtown, to the dog park and to a movie at the local outdoor drive-in. Each day and night with him was like a new adventure, and even when they just stayed in and hung out together, she was happier than she’d ever been in her life.
She checked the time and put her phone away.
“Okay, for homework—which I already know you don’t like—I want you to write down five things that make you happy.”
It took concentrated effort for Avery to restrain her reaction to this week’s assignment, but she had to laugh at how well the psychiatrist knew her patient.
It wouldn’t hurt to be more open. After all, look how much good had happened once she’d chosen to open her heart to Isaac.
“All right, and then what do I do with the list?”
Dr. Santiago took a sip of the peppermint tea she favored. Avery liked the way its subtle, calming scent filled the office. Together, many times, they’d explored Avery’s tendency to rush ahead, to try to reach for solutions before she’d really begun to understand a problem—a characteristic that well served her military career, but wasn’t always an asset in civilian life.
“For now, just the list, okay?” Dr. Santiago smiled, her eyes filled with warm humor. “Then, we go from there.”
Avery nodded, agreeing to another exercise with what small portion of faith she could muster. She had a journal full of these little tasks, half-completed, and would try this one as well, but she’d done enough of them not to get her hopes up. She was fairly certain by now that writing in a journal like a teenage girl, pouring her feelings onto the page, wasn’t going to fix her problems. Still, sometimes it helped to get things out of her head and down on paper, and even when it didn’t, at least seeing her thoughts in black and white on a physical page often made them clearer.
“I come from a family of Southern farmers, doctor. We don’t have time for pain. If you break your arm, you still have to milk the cows.”
“I know this well,” Dr. Santiago replied, pointing a finger across her desk even as she jotted a few quick notes with the other hand. Avery appreciated that she never took notes during their sessions and each time only spent a few minutes doing so afterwards. Her focused attention when they spoke made an immense impact on how well Avery was able to connect with Dr. Santiago, to open up during their meetings for the sake of her own well-being.
“But you’ll recall I’ve met your brother, Avery, on a day when he had to milk the cows—” she smiled, reaching across the desk to pat Avery’s hand “—and I could see instantly that he loves you and wants to help you get to feeling better. Sometimes we have to teach the people around us how to care for us. They don’t always know best.” She set down her enameled pen and looked up, folding her hands on top of the notepad.
“Isaac is different,” Avery said softly, without intending to. But when the doctor nodded, she continued. “He seems to know what I need, when I need it, without me having to tell him. He is kind and emotionally mature. And—”
She didn’t think Dr. Santiago needed to know that just the sight of him made her heart run wild like an off-leash greyhound.
“He sounds wise and supportive, Avery.” She paused, blinking. “I think this is a good thing, spending more time with him. Do you agree?”
“I think so,” Avery said, hearing the waver in her own words.
Very little ever got past Dr. Santiago.
“But?”
“But—” Avery shifted, suddenly restless despite the couch’s soft, inviting cushions “—even though he’s wonderful, for some reason, I’m almost as afraid of him as I was of going off to a combat zone, and then of coming home,” she admitted. Just saying the words out loud brought a little relief, but not enough.
When Avery stopped speaking, Dr. Santiago was silent for a few seconds. Avery liked that about her. The doctor didn’t try to fill quiet with questions, but she also didn’t hesitate to ask the often-difficult things that helped Avery get to the bottom of her fears. They had covered much ground together, but the thought of how much more there was to go made Avery feel suddenly fatigued even after the progress she’d made in their hour together.
“Well, let’s talk this through, then,” Dr. Santiago proposed, apparently ignoring or not overly concerned that their time was up. “What is it that you’re afraid might happen?”
Avery considered the gently prodding question. If she’d learned anything about psychotherapy, it was that mining a heart was exhausting, painful, frustrating work that didn’t yield overnight results. In the time that she’d been home, she’d only just scratched the surface of what she knew to be a vast iceberg, the largest portion of which remained hidden underwater. She’d come home thinking everything would be okay, but she quickly realized that although her military training covered extensive wartime coping mechanisms, she didn’t know much of anything about returning to normal life.
Medication helped with her anxiety symptoms, at first, but it didn’t help her forget the things she’d seen—the darkest corners of human behavior—and there were days she’d do just about anything to empty her mind of all she’d been exposed to. She wanted to believe that people were good, that they did the best they could with what they were given, but she wasn’t so sure she bought that theory anymore.
“I guess I’m—”
The words to articulate her emotions wouldn’t come, and a knot of frustration began to rise in her throat. Oh, how she hated to cry, especially in front of other people. She’d managed to get through years of providing medical care for battered soldiers without more than a few tears, but once she’d returned, it was as if all of those experiences joined to form a deluge, and there were days she couldn’t keep her eyes dry.
“I think I’m afraid that it might be harder to let him all the way into my heart than it would be to shut him out.”
Dr. Santiago took another sip of her tea, closing her eyes for a moment, thinking things over the way a friend would.
“What might happen if you show him the darkest parts of you, the places that scare you the most?” she asked, replacing her blue-and-white teacup in its saucer.
“I might—” Avery pulled in a breath as memories slipped past floodgates “—I might love him someday. Maybe I already do. And then I might lose him.”
Images of her best friend’s face the last time she saw her, of the casual way, on the day Sophie died, that they’d traded shifts so Avery could care for her injured patient. Avery couldn’t have predicted or stopped the downward spiral that resulted from a single wrong decision. On some level, she knew that. But it didn’t change the fact that Sophie’s son would grow up without his mother. It didn’t change the fact that every time she ran into Sophie’s husband—a circumstance she avoided more and more as much as she could—he would look at Avery and wonder why it was she who’d survived, and not his lovely, sweet wife.
Dr. Santiago must have understood the path Avery’s thoughts had taken from the expression on her patient’s face. She removed her hands from the teacup and folded them again across the notepad on her desk. Finally, she spoke quietly.
“That’s very true,” she said. “When we allow others to love us, and when we love them, there is always a price to pay, and paying that price is part of being human. We do it because none of us can be our best selves without others. None of us truly wants to be always alone.”
It was Avery’s turn to nod.
“But think of it this way, Avery.” Dr. Santiago turned her hands, palms up. “If you really enjoy Isaac’s company, if he brings you happiness and support, and all of the other wonderful things you’ve described—don’t you think that you deserve those things?”
“No,” Avery said, quickly. She didn’t need to think about the answer to that question.
“I disagree,” Dr. Santiago posed. “I’m sure Isaac has a choice in whom he spends time with. Why would he be spending so much time with you if you weren’t also bringing him joy? Do you not deserve to take what he’s offered in return?”
Avery didn’t respond. Her heart was too full of aches and she was getting tired. They’d gotten to a place they couldn’t surpass that day, or maybe ever, and suddenly, she just wanted to go home.
“Let’s meet again next week, Avery. You’ve done so well today, and I know it’s very hard on you.” Dr. Santiago leaned over on her elbows, her forearms covering the large calendar that covered her desktop. “Listen. I want you to know how brave you are for coming in to see me, for keeping your appointments. The work you’re doing here is difficult, but it’s important, and you are doing an excellent job.”
Avery felt that she was anything but brave. Bravery was what the soldiers she’d cared for had; it was in the sacrifices they’d made to serve their country in an effort to make the world a safer place. It wasn’t sitting in a psychiatrist’s office, talking about why she couldn’t risk spending so much time with Isaac Meyer.
She picked up her shoulder bag and headed for the door.
Chapter Thirteen
The day of the 5K, Isaac stopped by Tommy’s house to pick up Avery, pulling another box out of the back of his truck. But this time, it wasn’t zucchini.
It was going to be a warm day. Already the sun was hot against his back as he headed toward the porch, Jane at his heels, but he didn’t care. All he could see were hours and hours of time with Avery, hours he would fill doing his new favorite thing—making her as happy as humanly possible.
He rang the doorbell and Macy opened it with a big smile for him, getting flour all over his clothes as he stepped into her arms for a hug. “Oops,” she said, attempting to wipe it off as Isaac laughed and batted her hands away so she couldn’t just make things worse.
“Avery’s in her room,” she said, “I’ll go get her for you. Just head on into the kitchen and help yourself to a muffin.”
Isaac stopped midstep. “There aren’t any zucchini in them, are there?”
Macy winked at him over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Armed with what he took to be a warning, he obeyed her anyway and found Tommy munching away on breakfast at the table.
“Isaac!” Tommy said, getting up to shake his hand. “Glad to see you, man.” He offered Isaac a cup of coffee and brought one back, black, handing it across the table as he took his seat.
“It’s good to see you, too.”
“Sounds like you and Avery have become mighty close over the past few weeks,” Tommy said, grinning over his World’s Okayest Dad mug, which was made even funnier by the fact that Tommy was an inarguably excellent father.
“We have. And I’m glad you mentioned it because I want to talk to you about her.”
Concern knitted Tommy’s brows and Isaac waved his hand in the air to indicate that everything was okay.
“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. I just wanted to let you know that...that I’m in love with her. And that I have every intention of one day asking her to marry me.”
Tommy beamed. “That’s just wonderful! I’m so happy for both of you, and you absolutely have my blessing.”
He looked over Isaac’s shoulder and then lowered his voice.
“Just don’t tell Macy. She’ll go nuts an
d start planning things left and right before you even have a chance to pop the question. Trust me on that one.”
Isaac laughed, happy to have told Avery’s brother, his friend, and relieved that he’d reacted the way he had. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. And I’m not going to ask anytime soon.”
He took a sip of his coffee, strong enough to add hair to his chest, just the way he liked it.
“Avery needs time. I want to make sure she’s ready when I get to it and, anyway, people would think we were crazy if I asked her after less than a month.”
Tommy narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you care what people think of you?”
Isaac grinned. “I don’t. But Avery might. We’re taking things slow, doing things right, building a solid foundation. We have all the time in the world.”
Tommy nodded. “Have you told her how you feel, at least?”
Isaac shook his head. “I’m going to. Just haven’t found the right moment yet.”
“Well, when you do, I have no doubt you’ll be pleased with the outcome.” Tommy reached over and punched his friend in the shoulder. “That girl is head over heels, man. Head over heels. And I couldn’t be happier that it’s with my best friend.”
“Morning, boys.”
Isaac looked up at the sound of Avery’s voice in the doorway, warm as butter. He practically jumped up from the table, eager to be near her, to touch her and to breathe in the sweet scent he’d missed overnight in her absence. They had agreed not to spend every night together, and he couldn’t wait for the day when all he’d have to do was roll over in bed each morning and she’d be there, hair golden across her pillow in the morning light. He knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and he hoped to God she felt the same.
