“Concerning piglets who scattered in the elementary school.”
“Wow. That is...way to break small-town stereotypes, Copper Ridge.”
He laughed. “A student had brought them in for show-and-tell. And I happened to be there for a Say No to Drugs assembly. So when all hell broke loose I took the call over the radio. So I was the official first responder to the pig debacle.”
“Legend,” she said.
“Pretty much.”
“Did you always know you wanted to do this?”
“Sort of. I mean, at first I thought maybe I’d do state police. Or head up to Portland and work there. Do something in the city. But I always had my eye on law enforcement because I liked the idea that I could...make people follow the rules.” His voice halted a little on the last part.
“You wanted everyone to behave?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “When I was a teenager I thought...I thought maybe if I were a cop I could make my mom come back. Make my dad quit drinking. It was power to me. Authority that I didn’t have. I mean, I got over the fantasy really quick, but the desire to be able to change things stayed with me.”
She clutched her coffee to her chest, her eyes on the thinning buildings and the increasing trees, the waves in the distance. Something about his words had made her feel raw. Like the admittance of his own childhood fantasies, of change and control, had scratched against hers.
Interesting how those two desires had put them on such different paths. She’d thrown up her hands and let it all go. Walked away and never looked back because when she’d realized that nothing in her family would change, she’d realized that she couldn’t stay. That she couldn’t even tempt herself to try.
And yet Eli had stayed. And he’d made changes here that were concrete. He’d done what he’d always dreamed, in many ways. Even though he still hadn’t saved his family. It made her feel like the flake she’d been accused of being more than once.
Especially next to this solid man who had dug his heels in and stayed, even when it was hard. Even when it seemed like there was no point.
But then, she had no brothers and sisters. She’d had no one to stay and fight for.
What about your friends? Alison?
But then they would have known. They would have known what had happened to her and the simple fact was, she hadn’t been able to take the humiliation.
She’d lost her spleen and her family, so it had seemed a bit much to also lose her pride by letting everyone know that her dad had beaten the shit out of her and her mother had sided with him.
No, thank you. Internal bleeding was enough.
Man, what a massively horrible train of thought that was. She was done with it in three, two...
“I think it’s amazing you did what you set out to do,” she said.
“And what about you?” he asked.
Well, darn. She wasn’t in the market to talk about her.
“What about me?”
“Did you always want to be a therapist?”
“No,” she said. “I’m not even sure I wanted to be one when I was one. Which is why I typically did other things on the side. Painting, working part-time in coffeehouses, that kind of thing.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“I was able to get financial aid for school with the help of a guidance counselor.” That counselor and Jenny, her therapist, were the only two people she’d ever talked to about her dad. “And then from there it was recommended I see a therapist. And it was part of being a student at the school, so I went. Jenny listened to me. It made me feel good. I realized that having someone to listen was important.”
She’d never spoken with honesty before. Not even to her high school friends. They’d spoken in veiled terms about how bad it was. Some had unexplained bruises. Some had drugs they’d stolen from their parents’ dresser drawers. They were all escaping, supporting each other, but none of them had ever wanted to detail what their home life was like. If they spent their time away doing that, what was the point of leaving?
She cleared her throat. “Anyway, it was different with Jenny. She made me feel like my words had value. Like I mattered. Like my experiences mattered and like I’d solved something by talking about them. I wanted to do that. And I had to choose a course of study so...I ended up getting a master’s in social work. I figured I would find a way to help people.”
“And you chose crisis counseling.”
“That’s partly because I move so often. It makes more sense for me to work with people who are dealing with a sudden, isolated event, rather than people who need long-term care. I like to help people. But it’s not an easy job. I mean, people in crisis are...well, they’re in crisis. And hearing about those problems isn’t always the most fun.” She drummed her fingers on the door handle. “Though I imagine I’m preaching to the choir.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Law enforcement isn’t all locking up bad guys and being the hero. It’s a whole lot of sad reality.”
“Reality is lame. It’s basically my least favorite.”
“Too bad there’s so much of it around.”
“Man, I feel like you get me,” she said, laughing and letting her head fall back against the seat. She was happy being with him. And she didn’t want to examine that too closely.
“We’re going to park up here,” he said.
She sat up straighter, her heart thundering. “And make out?”
“And wait for speeding cars to go by.”
“Uh. Boo. I like mine better.”
“This,” he said, waving his hand between them, “has to stay in your bedroom.”
