“Six sessions, Nick. How much do you achieve with a client in six sessions?”
“We’re not having this discussion again. We’re not,” Nick insisted through gritted teeth. “If you want to ream me out because you think that I interfered in Logan’s therapy, then do it.”
“Okay, let’s talk about that. You still haven’t explained why you concealed the friendship from me back when that’s all it was.”
“I told you, I was confused because….”
“Because some part of you knew something was up back then—whether you admitted it to yourself or not. And once it did start, what did you think was going to happen? Were you just going to let this man go back to his wife, knowing what that might mean for her?”
“I was trying not to let that happen. I kept telling Logan that if he went back to Linda, he might end up hurting her again physically—and he’d sure as hell hurt her emotionally.” Nick shrugged sadly, asserting, “The rest was up to him.”
There was no immediate answer as Trudy mulled his response over. She mused quietly, “That must be why he told me…,” before resuming her lecturing voice and steely glare. “Do you realize how much damage we’ve already done to Linda? How much worse the truth is going to be now that her hopes have been raised?”
“I didn’t want it to get this far,” Nick sighed.
“But you let it happen. You’re absolutely right, I blindly ignored all of the signs, and it was Logan’s place to tell me, or his wife. But when none of that happened, you,” Trudy wagged a finger at him, “should have felt some obligation to step in.” In a softer, searching tone, she asked, “Tell me, how does the Nick Zales I know not do everything in his power to keep an abused woman from further harm?”
A shroud of sorrow and shame fell over Nick at the question, and he couldn’t answer without losing composure; the only reply he could manage was a shake of his head while reaching for the cup of coffee perched on the edge of Trudy’s desk.
The softer voice stayed as Trudy prodded, “What was going on in your life three to four weeks ago, Nick?” She supplied the answer herself, saying, “You were letting Norah go, you had just taken on two demanding new patients, and worst of all, your mom was very ill.”
Hearing concern but feeling condescension, Nick slammed the mug back down, blurting angrily, “None of that has anything to do with—” He paused for a deep breath before calmly insisting, “I know what you’re suggesting, but it wasn’t poor judgment ’cause my head wasn’t on straight, Trudy.”
“Then what was it?”
“It was….” How to explain what he couldn’t understand himself?
While Nick was still foundering, Trudy crisply interrupted his thoughts with, “You should take some time to think it over.”
Nick’s eyes locked with Trudy’s as he asked, “Meaning what? You’re suspending me?”
“I don’t want to, and I won’t have to if you’ll take the FMLA we talked about last week.”
There didn’t seem to be much choice in the matter. “For how long?”
“Why don’t we talk in, say, two weeks and see how much life has stabilized for you? I hope you’ll spend the time wisely.”
“Which in your mind means ‘not with Logan’. Right?”
“Frankly, yes. As you’ve pointed out, you’re not my patient—but he is. I’m going to suggest he spend some time alone, getting his own house in order; first on his agenda has to be an honest talk with Linda.” Trudy paused and leaned forward, her hand stretching across the desk. “And Nick? I think you’ve got some things to take care of, too.”
“And what do I tell my clients?”
“The truth. You’re taking a short leave of absence to deal with some personal matters and you’ll see them when you get back. Anyone who can’t wait, well, Tracey and I can help them.” For the first time all morning, Trudy smiled. “You need to take care of yourself. Then you can go back to taking care of others.”
Nick stood and stretched, dolefully mumbling, “Okay, that’s a plan.”
He gathered his file folders and took his leave, turning back when Trudy said, “I know therapy is a sore subject, but please think about what I said.” He nodded his assent, since he would be brooding about her nagging suggestion for the rest of that day—though that was all he intended to do about it.
After glumly sitting behind his closed office door for a quarter of an hour, a stone-faced Nick finally mustered up enough energy to inform the office manager, who doubled as HR rep for ACC, of his intention to take some FMLA time. He stoically bore Janice’s coo of concern as she found the necessary forms but escaped as soon as he could. Walking out to his Jeep with leaden steps, Nick burned with shame, feeling that he’d failed—failed Trudy, his clients, his calling, and yeah, maybe even Logan.
NEVER BEFORE had Logan been so glad to be handed an ass-busting assignment. Right after he’d clocked in on Monday morning, Mack had informed him that they were short-handed and Logan would be unloading two tractor-trailers of merchandise by himself. Mid-October was a busy time at Scott’s Garden Center. Out front, customers were loading up on Halloween decorations while in the back, all the winter paraphernalia was being staged so it could be whisked into place on November 1st. Logan accepted the job without complaint, since staying as busy as possible seemed the best antidote to the fury still burning in his gut.
Though his hands were fully occupied, the work didn’t really stop Logan from dwelling on his list of grievances against Nick. His anger hadn’t abated one bit since their fight the night before—quite the reverse. New complaints occurred to Logan with each box that he wheeled into the warehouse. He wouldn’t listen, would he? I told him what a bad idea it was, goin’ to that fuckin’ diner, but no, Nick know-it-all Zales had to have it his way. Him and his precious fuckin’ landmark.
Logan grunted as he shoved a box into place on an upper shelf and the sound almost turned to a moan when he spied the label. Holly-Daze 4-pak Christmas Ornaments. He couldn’t help but think of his promise to Krista and Meghan that their dad would be back home by Christmas. A promise that was shattered now, all thanks to Mr. I-Cannot-Tell-A-Lie.
A quick glance at the huge warehouse clock told Logan that it was after nine a.m. already. Nick’s meeting with Trudy was probably over, and Logan’s fate was sealed. Hope he’s happy…. As Logan continued to grouse to himself, an insidious thought occurred to him. Maybe Nick really was happy about this turn of events; maybe he’d had planned it all along. Smart guy like Nick, he had to know how dangerous it was for the two of us to go waltzin’ into The Liberty Grill. Yeah, sure, Nick’s been tryin’ to get me to come clean to Trudy, and now he’s fixed it so I don’t have a choice.
The rest of the morning passed slowly for Logan as he finished unloading the trucks, mired in a fog of resentment. At 1:20, he was taking a late lunch break, desultorily gnawing at a ham and cheese sandwich, when his cell phone rang. He flipped it open and saw that the call was from Nick. Perfect! Logan was sitting alone at the back picnic table and could tell the big-mouth off without an audience. “Yeah?”
The connection was really bad, and Logan could barely make out Nick’s voice as it faded in and out, swallowed by static. “Lo… didn’t expect to get you… just gonna leave… message.”
“Well, too bad for you, then, ’cause now you gotta talk to me direct.”
“Wanted….” More static, and then Logan heard, “I’m sorry.” The sound faded again, though Logan thought Nick added, “I had to tell….” The rest was lost.
“You had to tell Trudy, huh? Is that why you called?”
“You gotta know… goes against my …rinciples… don’t believe in outing….”
“What? Could you speak up?”
“This …onnection sucks… see if they have a payphone.”
Why didn’t the idiot just call from his desk phone? Logan got up and started pacing with the phone to his ear. “Hang up and call from—” Suddenly he heard Nick yelling the question about
a payphone. Something wasn’t adding up. “Where in the hell are you?”
“Uhh, …orget the name… this place. Hang on… ask the bartend….”
Logan’s anger melted quickly into concern, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Ask the bartender? Is that what he said? What the…? “You’re in a bar?”
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck are you doing in a bar in the middle of the day?”
“…ood question.” Static drowned out the tail-end of Nick’s mirthless laugh, and the unease Logan had been feeling turned to full-blown panic.
Fuck, she wouldn’t’ve—couldn’t’ve—fired him? “Trudy didn’t…. Nick, you didn’t lose your job, did you?”
A fresh burst of static came over the line, and all Logan heard was, “…relieved of duty.”
Son of a bitch! Wasn’t that just fancy talk for fired? In a wheedling tone of voice, Logan cajoled, “Hey, listen to me. You stay right there, and I’ll swing by and pick you up as soon as I get off, okay?” A frisson of alarm shot up his spine when a flash of movement nicked the corner of his eye. Logan whirled around to find Mack smoking a cigarette and regarding him with intense curiosity.
He turned his attention back to his phone to hear, “Don’t bother… gonna get go… soon. I really am sorr… ake care, Logan.” There was nothing more as the line went dead.
His heart sinking like a stone in the sea, Logan flipped his phone closed before looking over at his supervisor. With a sheepish shrug, he said, “Buddy of mine. He’s havin’ a rough day.”
Mack nodded sympathetically. “Sure sounded that way.” He flicked his cigarette butt on the ground and stubbed it out while offering, “Look, if you wanta take off now and get him out of that bar, go ’head. Might save his wife some grief.”
“He’s not—” Logan clamped down on that admission and tried to seem unconcerned as he explained, “He’ll be all right. No use anyway, he wouldn’t tell me where he is.”
Mack shrugged and ambled back into the garden center. With no other choice, Logan followed him in and finished his shift, barely aware of what he was doing as he unboxed some of those shiny Christmas ornaments. His self-righteous anger was a distant recollection now, so consumed was he by shame and regret.
The memory of telling Nick that he had nothing to lose stabbed at Logan’s conscience. What a stupid thing to say. Nick had plenty to lose, and it looks like he did. Couldn’t Trudy’ve given him a break? He told her the truth. Wonder if he’s sorry, now? ’Course he is—isn’t that what he said on the call?
Logan suddenly wished he could tell Nick not to be sorry, to be proud that he did the right thing and screw what anyone else thought. Too bad I pretty much came right out and told him to lie; can’t believe I did that. What was I thinkin’? I was just as bad as Daisy. For the first time ever, Logan saw the situation with his sister from the other side, and he didn’t like the view at all. No wonder Nick don’t wanna see me right now. The idea of his friend sad and alone in an unfamiliar bar disturbed Logan on several levels, not least of which was the thought of some strange guy jumping at the chance to comfort Nick.
At three p.m., Logan finished up work and practically ran out to his truck. In the privacy of the cab, he punched in Nick’s cell phone number. The voice mail came on immediately every time he called, which meant the damn thing was probably turned off. Maybe he’s home by now. Logan immediately tried that number but got only the answering machine. “Hey, Nick? It’s me. If you’re there, pick up.” No response.
The next number he dialed was the last person he wanted to talk to but the only one who could tell him what had happened with Nick. Unfortunately, when he asked to speak with Dr. Trudy Gerard, he was informed that she was with a client. “How much longer do you think she’ll be?”
“I’m not really sure. I can take a message for her, if you’d like.”
Logan stifled the urge to curse at the receptionist and instead left a message for Trudy to call him on his cell phone as soon as she got a chance. He sat lost in thought for a moment and then, with no better idea, headed for Nick’s house. Just because he ain’t pickin’ up the phone don’t mean he’s not there.
AFTER NICK ended the call to Logan, he stared down into his half-full mug, trying to decide what to do next. A fourth beer on an empty stomach would make driving a dicey proposition, and Nick felt no desire to spend the rest of the day in this dark and dank bar. He wasn’t even quite sure how he’d ended up there.
He’d left ACC and moped around the house for a few hours until the walls had started closing in on him, but for once going for a run or shooting hoops held no appeal. Looking for a source of cheer, Nick had headed to the hospital to see his mom, thinking a visit would surely buoy both of them, especially as this was her last week in Allegheny Suburban. Three days earlier, Nick had made arrangements with the social worker to transfer Agnes to the Heartland Healthcare Center.
Sadly, the visit ended up only adding to Nick’s gloom. His mom looked more frail then he’d ever seen her before and seemed more incoherent than not. After twenty minutes, Agnes had drifted back to sleep, prompting Nick to go out in search of sustenance. While driving around aimlessly, he’d made an impulsive stop at Slim and Ernie’s Tavern, an establishment where serving food didn’t appear to be a priority or, judging by his time there, even a possibility.
A growling stomach reminded Nick of his original mission. He slowly finished his beer, weighing the options. The idea of heading home to an empty house tempted him not in the least. In all honesty, Nick knew where he wanted to go. Been feelin’ the pull all morning, just can’t admit it. Why? It ain’t like it’s gonna make anything worse. Mind made up at last, Nick paid the tab and headed outside.
Twenty-five minutes later, he walked through the door of The Liberty Grill, finding it unusually quiet. Of course, he was there smack-dab between the lunch rush and the early bird special crowd. The afternoon hostess, Sharon, greeted him like the old friend he was. “Nick! What’re you doin’ here?”
“Looking for somethin’ to eat.” He swept the entire restaurant with a cautious glance. “Is Larry around?”
“He’s busy in the kitchen, hon. You want I should get him?”
“Nah, don’t bother him,” answered Nick, unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved. “I’ll just take a seat at the counter.” He hopped on a stool at the far end of the restaurant and waved the menu away. “I know what I want. Medium-rare cheeseburger, loaded, and a double-thick chocolate shake.”
The waitress, a new girl Nick didn’t know, nodded as she wrote his order up, asking, “Fries or potato salad on the side?”
“I wanna substitute macaroni and cheese.”
With raised eyebrows, she confirmed, “You want a side order of macaroni and cheese with your cheeseburger?”
“Actually, I want a full order,” Nick corrected, smiling in spite of himself at her disbelief.
“Okay.” She winked and smiled back. “You got it.”
Nick snatched a discarded newspaper from a nearby booth and paged wearily through it as he waited. A little while later, the clunk of a heavy stoneware plate hitting the counter signaled that his food had arrived. Nick lowered the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette to find Larry shaking his head while sliding a tall, frosty glass next to the plate.
“Sharon told you I was here?” he asked, reaching for his half-pound burger.
“She didn’t have to. You think I don’t know that order? I heard it being fired in the kitchen and figured either you were here lookin’ for comfort food or some other customer was trying to commit suicide by calorie.”
“Yeah, well, I need some comfort.” After taking a huge bite, Nick muttered, “My order wasn’t the only thing that got fired today.”
Larry drew a mug of coffee for himself and tsked at his young friend. “Is that what you call taking a voluntary leave of absence?”
“Ha, voluntary,” Nick scoffed, slowing his assault on the burger to tackle some macaroni and cheese. “I g
uess you talked to your wife today?”
“No, I listened to her last night after we dropped Dave off—for over an hour.”
“Sorry ’bout that.” Nick sighed at his plate before looking back up at Larry. “She knew as soon as she saw us?”
“Didn’t even take that long,” Larry harrumphed. “When Dave saw the car and started talkin’ about you and Logan workin’ so hard on it, Trudy got real quiet. I looked over and could see the wheels turnin’ in her head. I’ll admit, I didn’t get what was up ’til she started ranting about it later.”
“She was really pissed off, huh?” Nick picked up his glass and tried to drown some guilt in chocolate shake.
“Son,” Larry drawled, the deep rumble soothing to Nick’s ears. “I think she was more hurt than pissed.”
“She thinks I went behind her back?”
“There’s that. But she seems to think it’s a bad idea all around—bad for both you and Logan. As she put it, ‘Nick could have any gay man in the city, but he has to fuck around with one of my abusers.’”
Nick devoured his burger with renewed vigor, objecting, “It wasn’t like that. We aren’t just ‘fucking around’.” He swallowed and added indignantly, “And Logan is more than just another abuser.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” A deep chuckle erupted from Larry. “What is it you’re tryin’ to say?”
“What?” Nick asked. His annoyance spiked when Larry just laughed harder.
“Did you just hear yourself? You practically came right out and told me you were in love.”
“I did not.” His heart sped up as he examined his admission. To cover his confusion, he wolfed down more food, but his mind wasn’t distracted. Shit, what did I mean? Am I… in love? Around a mouthful of macaroni and cheese, Nick mumbled, “I don’t know… maybe.”
He looked up at Larry, expecting more amusement but instead finding dark brown eyes filled with gentle compassion. “I thought Nick Zales didn’t believe in love.”
Nick wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, then squared his shoulders and looked Larry in the eye. “Yeah, well… could be that love believes in Nick Zales.”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 121
