At Home In Corbin's Bend

by Maggie Ryan

  Of course, he had done a fair amount of nagging too, about vitamins, and staying hydrated, and having her cell phone on her at all times. He had somehow managed to hold back on the lecture she was sure he was itching to deliver, for which she was grateful, mostly.

  It had actually turned into an almost perfect weekend, and she was dreading him going back to work on Monday.

  “I’ve arranged for Rose to drive you there, so make sure you are ready when she gets here.”

  “What?” Her head whipped around to glare at her husband. “Beau, that’s ridiculous! I’m more than capable of driving myself over to Traci’s house, or even walking! It’s a few blocks!”

  “Humor me,” he told her, looking anything but humorous. “Rose will already be here to watch Hazel while you go to the appointment, and I’m not taking any chances. You’re too important to me.”

  Well, when he put it that way… “Honey, that’s sweet, but I can drive myself, in fact, I can drive Hazel over to the Rolsons before I go. There’s no reason for Rose to even come over here. That’s just silly.”

  Beau leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Silly or not, that’s what’s happening. And, she will be staying with you for the afternoon too, so you better behave.”

  Dang. He was being so firm and bossy. Ginger realized with a start how much she had missed that. Instinctively, she wanted to fight him, but her body betrayed her, shooting tingles of arousal down to her private places. She groaned softly as her need built.

  Beau, of course, mistook it for something else. “I mean it. I’m just trying to take care of you and do what I feel is in your best interests. Please, just humor me this time.”

  She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Rose wasn’t so bad, and she was sure she could enjoy the woman’s company for a day. Maybe Rose would be able to help her get some insight into her current dilemma. “Okay, but it’s just for one day, right? She won’t be here every time you go to work? Because I will do just fine on my own.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Chapter 11

  It’s like we’re back at square one. I have no idea what to do or how to deal with it.”

  Beau was sitting at Ange’s Angel Cakes with Jim and Ange O’Brien on Monday morning following the incident. After the troubling conversation with Dr. Devon, he had gone to see his mentor Jason Rolson. Jason had decades of experience with DD, but none with post-partum depression, so after some encouraging words and a few minutes of his own two cents, he had pointed Beau to the O’Briens.

  Ange and Jim, who he didn’t know very well, had been more than willing to help, Ange having had personal experience with depression after the birth of her youngest child.

  She had asked him to meet her here in her shop in the early morning before she opened. It worked out for him, too, as he could meet with her before he went to work at the school. Jim had joined them, but Ange was doing most of the talking so far.

  She frowned contemplatively. “What does square one look like for you, exactly?”

  Beau sighed. It was hard enough for him to talk about their personal lives with friends, but harder still to jump right into the nitty-gritty with near strangers. He knew, however, that if he was going to work through this and get answers, it was going to be here. Jim and Ange had lived it.

  “Two months ago, everything was a mess. We had taken a break from domestic discipline when Hazel was born, and it was killing us. Ginger was barely coping, she wasn’t herself after the birth anyway, but as time went on, it snowballed out of control. I’d say we were drifting apart, but the truth is, she was pushing me away. It took me too long to recognize what she was doing was a cry for help. It’s like she was no longer able to take control of the smallest thing, and she was begging me to do it for her.”

  “But she wasn’t telling you that, was she?” Ange hit the nail on the head, immediately putting his mind at ease about being there.

  “No, she swung between lashing out at me, and completely shutting me out.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ange nodded, the painful memories of her own experiences evident in her eyes. “But it got better for a while?”

  “It did. At least, I thought it did. Now, I’m not so sure. It seemed like she was improving, but what if I made it worse? What if I’m the what if?” Beau’s voiced cracked, and he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, unable to continue.

  Jim, who was beginning to look a bit teary himself, rose and came to stand behind him, his hand resting on Beau’s shoulder for encouragement.

  Ange exhaled forcefully, as if doing so would somehow expel the bad memories and give her the strength to continue.

  “Beau, stop. I was at The Ginger Paddle that day, and it was insane. It was enough to give anyone working there a panic attack, and the word on the street is that that wasn’t the first one she had had anyway, just the most severe.”

  Beau looked down, tracing an invisible line on the table in front of him. He hadn’t mentioned the latest incident, and wasn’t planning on doing so, outside of telling Laney, Josiah, and Traci for the obvious reasons.

  “See, that’s the other thing,” he explained quietly. “She never told me that she was having panic attacks, not once. I found out afterwards from Laney and Jonathan, and they only knew about one they had seen, but I suspect there were others.” Beau shook his head, overwrought with emotion. “Is it because of how I was handling things? Does she not trust me? I don’t even know when it started or how it happened or anything.”

  Jim, still standing behind him, cleared his throat, and Ange looked pained. This was probably hitting way too close to home.

  “Beau, I haven’t spoken to Ginger obviously, so I can’t give you any answers. Only Ginger can do that, but I can tell you this. I highly doubt that it stems from anything you did or didn’t do. The sad truth is that post-partum depression manifests itself in many ways, and yes, one of those ways can be through anxiety and panic attacks. I can also say that there is a high level of shame and stigma attached to post-partum, which is unfortunate, because it is a lot more common than anyone realizes and doesn’t always get the attention and awareness it deserves.” She paused, letting that sink in before continuing. “I don’t know Ginger very well, but we do have a few things in common. I know Ginger’s reputation, and I know what kind of person it takes to run a successful business in the food industry. Women like us, we’re tough and strong, and we pride ourselves on our dedication and self-control. I’m ashamed to say that when something like this hits us, we see it as a shameful weakness.” She stopped abruptly, looking rather choked up. “No,” she corrected emphatically. “We see it as a personal failure, and the thought of admitting that failure to anyone, is worse even than the thought of living with it.”

  Her speech was powerful, and the truth of her insight floored Beau, rendering him speechless for a moment.

  Ange stood. “I’m glad you came by today, Beau, and if Ginger ever wants to talk, let her know I’m here. I’m sorry, I really need to get to work now, and I’m sure Jim has some things to add.”

  Jim nodded, giving his wife a quick hug before taking her spot at the table across from Beau.

  “I’ll leave you guys to it.” Ange gave a sad smile before turning towards the kitchen. She only got about half-way there before she stopped, pivoted on her heels and stalked towards them once more.

  “There is one more thing I want to say. I may not have realized it at the time, but moving here and having Jim get bit by the DD bug was the best thing that happened to me. It was my saving grace. You and Ginger have several advantages over us. You’re already here, and whether you’re currently practicing or not, you already have the tools of a solid domestic discipline relationship behind you. You just have to figure out how to use them in this situation.”

  She left then, having said her piece, and made it all the way to the kitchen this time.

  Beau stared after her. “Whoa, she’s intense.”

  Jim chuckled. “Yeah, she’s
pretty passionate about it. She went through a lot of hell back then, and she didn’t have much to say about it at the time either, but she makes up for it now.”

  “So what about you Jim, as an HoH, do you really think it’s appropriate to use domestic discipline in this situation? Do you really think it can be helpful?”

  Jim gave a low whistle and stared into space for a minute or two before crossing his arms behind his head and tipping back in his chair. “Listen, I’m not about to start advocating for the use of corporal punishment as a cure for post-partum depression or anything, but it is important to consider what we, as spankos, know about the release of endorphins and such.”

  Beau nodded, chuckling to himself at Jim’s choice of words, imagining how such an idea would go over with the general public.

  “So, what I will say, is that for people like us, who are already wired that way, and already use spanking as a life and relationship tool, it’s a bit different. Don’t discount the healing power of a good arse lickin’ if you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” Beau admitted with a sigh. “I want to go home and put this into practice, and move on, but this is so much bigger than anything we’ve ever dealt with, and I don’t want to mess up or make her feel worse.”

  Jim nodded, and Beau could see from the look on the man’s face that he knew exactly where Beau was coming from. “The important thing is to get her talking…to anyone who can help her, but also to you. Once you know where she’s coming from and what she’s going through, you’ll know what to do.” Jim stood. “I’ve got to get to work, and you do too, I’m sure, but I’m glad you came. You’re a good man, Beau Davies. You’ve got this.”

  For the first time in weeks, Beau actually felt like that might be true.

  Ginger sat silently, coldly regarding the woman across from her, as she had been doing for the past twenty minutes. The woman in question, the Corbin’s Bend therapist, Traci Jackson, stared back at her from over the top of an oversized Wonder Woman coffee mug.

  Some Wonder Woman, Ginger thought bitterly. What kind of therapist conducts sessions at her kitchen table anyway? She’s obviously not any good. I’ve been here this long and she hasn’t even tried to get me to talk since the first two minutes.

  As if she had read Ginger’s mind, Traci smiled. “Maybe we would be more comfortable if we moved this over to the living room,” she suggested. Except that it wasn’t really much of a suggestion as she was already walking that way.

  Not seeing much of a choice, Ginger followed her, taking a seat on an oversized easy chair directly across from the couch Traci sat on.

  Traci sipped her coffee, looking completely at ease, despite being stonewalled.

  Of course she doesn’t care, she gets paid whether you talk or not. Ginger’s inner voice was on a roll today.

  “Would you like some more coffee?” Traci’s calm and cheerful demeanor was really getting on her nerves.

  “It doesn’t matter where we sit, or how much coffee you give me,” Ginger informed her. “I still won’t talk to you.”

  “Okay.” Traci crossed her legs underneath her, trying to get comfortable. “So you didn’t come to talk. Why did you come?” Traci inquired, looking serious for a moment before leaning forward conspiratorially. “It’s the coffee, isn’t it? I’ve heard the rumors. The word on the street is, it’s the best cup of coffee in town. Between you and me, I started that rumor. I think it’s helping drum up business,” she joked.

  Ginger bit back a smile, recognizing a sister in snark. Under any other circumstances, she would have laughed, happy to have found a kindred spirit. Today, she just glared.

  “I’m only here because I had no choice,” she deadpanned. “My husband made me come.”

  “She does speak!” Traci exclaimed lightly, setting her coffee on the table between them, and leaning in closer. “And, for the record, I appreciate your stance, I really do. But,” she added, almost gleefully, “I call bullshit.”

  Ginger frowned at her, gritting her teeth together, her jaw set in a scowl. This woman, she thought to herself, was highly unprofessional. What kind of therapist called ‘bullshit’? She looked at the clock on the wall. Twenty more minutes until she was free to go. Free being a relative term. Rose Rolson, who had Hazel, would be picking her up. Beau wouldn’t let her stay home alone while he was at work today.

  “See the thing is, I believe you always have a choice. Sometimes all of the options suck, but you still have a choice. Rock, meet hard place.”

  Ginger glared at her. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Sure you did,” Traci persisted. “Unless of course, you were knocked unconscious, hog tied, and dragged here, and I see no evidence of that. So this is Corbin’s Bend. I get it, right? You probably had a choice between coming here and getting spanked.” She scrunched up her nose. “Not much of a choice, and both options suck, but you still had to choose one over the other.”

  “No, we’re not currently practicing domestic discipline,” Ginger informed her with a smirk.

  That caught the therapist off guard, this was Corbin’s Bend after all, but she quickly recovered. “Okay, fine. So you could have chosen not to come here today, and there would have been no consequences from your husband about such a decision, correct?”

  Ginger’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she confirmed with a quick nod.

  “So then, let’s try this again. Why are you here?”

  “I’m here because my husband told me I had to come, and I like that he did that. It’s the first time in weeks he has put his foot down about anything.”

  “Now we are getting somewhere.” Traci looked genuinely happy. “Listen, Ginger, here’s the thing, you don’t have to talk to me. You are more than welcome to come sit on my couch as often as you want and enjoy a great, albeit outrageously expensive, cup of coffee. But the truth is, by not talking, the only person you are hurting is yourself.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.” It was a simple statement, delivered in the faintest of whispers, but those few words held every ounce of fear, anxiety, self-loathing, and uncertainty that had been consuming her, and it was all wrapped up in a desperate plea for help.

  Traci motioned for her to continue.

  “I think I’m hurting everyone. I don’t think I know who I am anymore. My marriage is a mess, I can’t seem to go into my own restaurant without having some sort of break down, and,” her voice cracked, “I don’t think I’m a very good mother.” The last sentence came out in a strangled sob.

  Traci was on the floor beside her chair in seconds. “Ginger, I think you’re just fine. I think what you are going through and what you’re feeling right now is more normal than you realize. And you know what else? Being able to voice your fears and insecurities is the first step to being able to work through them. So be proud of yourself today. You just made a major breakthrough, and I think that you’ll find that if you stop holding everything in, and keep talking, you’re going to start feeling better very soon.”

  Ginger looked up at her through tear-laden lashes, feeling a glimmer of hope that hadn’t been there earlier. “Really?”

  “Really.” Traci beamed at her, handing her a tissue from a box on the table.

  “But we’re almost out of time! Can I come back again soon?” Ginger found herself mourning all the time she had wasted being stubborn.

  “Absolutely. You can come back at this same time tomorrow if you want, I don’t get a lot of morning appointments. We’ll schedule before you leave today. But, Ginger, don’t think that you can only talk to me. Talk to Beau. He loves you very much, and he’s very worried about you. He wants to help, but he probably doesn’t know how. It’s okay to tell him what you need.”

  “But what if I don’t know what I need?”

  “It’s okay to tell him that too.”

  “Honey, I’m home!” Beau called out as he walked through the door on Monday evening. He was in a silly mood, but he had finally found clarity, and th
at was something to celebrate.

  It wasn’t his wife that returned his greeting, but Rose, with Hazel in her arms. She put her finger to her lips, and softly shushed him. “Ginger’s resting upstairs. She did a lot of talking today, and I think it drained her a little bit.”

  “But she’s okay? How did her appointment go, did she say?”

  Rose shook her finger at him. “What she wants to tell you about that is up to her, I’m not going to be the snitch. But I will say this, because I think it needs to be said. She wants to talk to you, Beau. But some things aren’t always easy to say, especially if we think the other person won’t be willing to listen. You need to listen, and you need to pay attention, and then you need to act. Don’t be too afraid to give her what you know she needs.”

  Beau smiled wryly at the older lady’s hidden message. She was a spitfire for sure, and he adored her for it. She wasn’t saying anything different than Marcus, her husband, or Jim had already said. And he was finally hearing it. “I hear ya, Rose,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek as he took Hazel from her. “Thank you for helping out today, I really appreciate it, but I think we will be okay tomorrow.”

  “Hmmph,” she blustered at his show of affection. “You’ll be fine tomorrow, and you would have been fine today too, but I’ll stop by for a bit just to check on her anyway. I’ll bring her some baked goods, so it doesn’t look like I’m checking up.”

  He bit back a smile. “I don’t know if that will work, Rose, but I sure appreciate it anyway.”

  She already had her coat on, and was halfway out the door before stopping. “Listen, and act,” she reminded him, smartly, before shutting the door behind her.

  Beau tossed back his head and laughed before turning his attention to Hazel. “You need to go to bed early tonight,” he told her seriously. “Mommy and I have lots to talk about.”