Wes had not dreamed of his wife’s death since the first night of their trip. He was addicted to the peaceful sleep as some are addicted to the well-being feeling they get from alcohol. He needed to be sure it would not leave him, that the dream would not return. And so, the weekend after Jessica and Ray’s party, Wes had scheduled another get away.

Carrie was delighted the first time he came to her and told her the news that they would be going away again so soon after their last escapade. She had giddily packed her goodies from ‘Naughty’, into her overnight bag. They had a wonderful time, almost as good as the first. And the dream had remained at bay. Over time the circles disappeared from under his eyes and Wes knew he had found his medicine.

The following weekend when he asked her, she gave him a strange look, but acquiesced, this time packing with less enthusiasm. That trip had been fun, but after the first night they were both ready to go home and see Rose.

The fourth weekend in less than two months he asked her to go, she shook her head. Planting her feet firmly and placing her hands on her hips, she said, “No, Wes. I want to be here on the ranch for the weekend. Buttercup and Jake are bringing the boys over to ride Saturday. I love my little coffee talks with Buttercup and I miss Rose when we go.”

Softening her voice, she ran her hands through Wes’ tumble of sandy waves. “I am so glad for our little getaways but really, we have a life here we need to be here for.”

Wes felt the fear grip at his heart. He had no other way to keep the dream from coming. It had been weeks since he had woken in sweat drenched sheets, his heart pounding, tears in his eyes. He just couldn’t risk it happening again.

“Just one night then, Carrie. Twenty-four hours.”

Looking over her husband’s furrowed brow, she asked gently, “Weston, I have to say I felt this invitation coming. Is this about what I think it is about?”

Running his hand through his long sandy hair, Wes gave a deep sigh. If there was one thing in this world he hated, it was to appear weak to the people who he was supposed to be strong for. A rock. Never wavering.

As if reading his mind, as spouses who have been married to each other over a decade often do, Carrie placed one of her small hands on each side of his face. “Is this about the dream? You haven’t had it…” Carries eyes narrowed, “since that first time we went away. Right? Is that what this is about?”

Considering those big brown eyes, he came clean. “Yes.”

“You think the trips are what keeps the nightmares from coming?”

He gave a nod. It sounded ridiculous when she spoke it aloud, but truth is truth.

Giving him a sad smile, Carrie ran her hand over his cheek, then leaned her head onto his chest. As they always did when she was near, Wes’ arms instantly wrapped tightly around his wife. Burying his face in her soft curls, he inhaled her scent. A mix of the elixir that was Carrie, and her sweet vanilla perfume.

When she pulled away, her smile was no longer sad. Her brown eyes were determined, her jaw set as it did when Wes knew she had decided something and wasn’t going to give up until she got her way.

“Let me ask you a few questions. Just answer yes or no.”

“Okay.” He wrapped his hands around her waist. By reading the look on her face he knew he was not going to want to hear what she was about to say. He was better able to listen if he was touching her in some capacity.

“Are you feeling overwhelmed with all you have to deal with in your life?”

“No.” Busy, yes. Overwhelmed by his life, no. He loved every aspect of his life except for this damn dream and the anxiety it brought him.

“Do you sometimes worry over the smallest things, but are unable to turn off these thoughts?”

The feeling of dread every time Carrie left the ranch, fearing something terrible would happen to her? That he worried over every doctor checkup fearful she would be dying of some unknown disease? If she didn’t answer her phone, she was lying, pale and weak in a hospital bed? He had never admitted these secrets to anyone, the incessant worry, the beating of his heart when Carrie was late to come home.

He whispered his answer, “Yes.”

“Do you feel stuck & unsure what to do to make things better?”

Going away every single weekend wasn’t a real option. The truth was Wes probably missed the ranch, Rose and the boys even more than Carrie when they had gone on their little jaunts. And he was completely unsure how to make the dreams stop.

Again, he answered, “Yes.”

“Are you feeling alone and disconnected, finding your most important relationship—difficult?”

He could not meet her eye. His hands remained around her waist, but his eyes drifted to the toes of his boots. The admission was painful. He was supposed to be her rock, her sword, her shield. But it was one word and he had to say it. “Yes.”

“Look at me, Wes.”

Her warm eyes gazed into his. There was an eternal love there and he could feel his wife’s complete acceptance of him—exactly how he was. As weak as he was in this moment.

“I love you and we are going to get through this together. Do you understand me?” she demanded, the softness gone and the flash of determination returning to her chocolate eyes. “Now, when I needed a doctor, you took me to one. You would never take no for an answer. And you were by my side every single time I was sick, making me well. And now, I will do the same for you. And you will let me help you.”

His role had always been to be the fixer of the problems. The man to take over the ranch when his father dies. To take care of his mama. To be Kevin’s father figure until he lost the poor boy. The big brother of the alcoholic. To get his wife through ordeal after ordeal alive. One more answer and Wes would be free.

“Yes. I need help, Carrie.”

“Good. I’ll make an appointment tomorrow morning at nine. Can’t wait.”

Before he could respond in protest, Carrie was up on her tippy-toes kissing him in a way that melted his anxiety and stopped the worry from entering his mind.

* * *

“How long have you been studying up on this?” Wes asked as he looked around the waiting room of the Better Life Family Counseling office.

“Months. I just had to figure out a way to get you here. Then the dreams stopped for a while, so I thought we could put it off. I visited the website so many times that I had those four questions memorized. Answering yes to three out of four makes you a great candidate for psychotherapy.”

“But what is psychotherapy?” Wes asked. His eyes glanced around the pale blue room. None of the patients were wrapped in strait jackets. They all looked—normal. There were even a couple of sweet little kids in the waiting room. Behind the big door that led to the exam rooms, Wes pictured shock therapy machines, arm and leg straps, a doctor in a white lab coat with a crazy look in his eyes, holding a giant needle over Wes.

“Their psychologist creates a safe, open and nurturing psychotherapy space where people feel accepted and understood. They help people get unstuck, feel less stressed and overwhelmed and get their lives back on track. They listen so you feel understood, so you don't feel alone in whatever you are going through. They care about making people's lives better.”

“Carrie—did you memorize that from the website, too?”

Giving a sheepish shrug, she admitted, “Yes. I don’t actually know what it is exactly, per se… but doesn’t it sound great?”

Wes wanted to bolt from his chair, grabbing Carrie and flying to the truck. One glance at her pleading eyes kept him firmly planted in his seat.

“Okay, baby. I’ll give anything a try, for you.”

The smile that lit up her face almost took away all his worry about the hideous doctor who he knew was waiting for him behind that door.

The woman who finally opened the door and called, “Weston,” was not at all what he was expecting. In her late sixties, she wore a soft lavender sweater and small brown glasses. Her gray hair curled prettily by her shoulders. And the warm smile on her face reminded him of Ma’s.

Throwing Carrie one more reluctant look, he absorbed her reassuring smile.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” she said with a wink.

Turning back to the kind looking woman, he made his way to the door.

Reaching out, she spoke softly, “I’m Meg. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Weston.”

“You too, ma’am,” he said as he shook her hand.

“Just Meg, honey. This way.”

She led him down a soft blue hall to her office. Decorated much like his mother’s living room, Wes took a seat in one of the worn leather chairs. Meg sat across from him.

Giving him a friendly gaze, her voice almost a whisper, she asked him, “Do you have any questions for me before we begin, Weston?”

“Just one, I guess.” Wes cleared his throat. “What is psychotherapy, exactly.”

“That’s a wonderful place to start. The word, psychotherapy, makes one think of unpleasant images. Strait jackets, shock therapy, things of that nature, doesn’t it?”

Wes gave a chuckle. “I may have let my imagination get away with me in the waiting room.”

“Let me assure you, that is perfectly natural, especially when trying something new that might be outside of your comfort zone. I prefer to use the term, talk therapy. My method of counseling, is just that. To talk to you. That’s all we are going to do here in this room. And what we discuss won’t leave the room unless you choose to share our discussion with someone.”

“That sounds—doable.”

“During talk therapy, you learn about your condition and your moods, feelings, thoughts and behaviors. I can help you learn how to take control of your life and respond to challenging situations with healthy coping skills. Does that sound like something you would like to proceed with?”

“Yes. I think I can manage.”

“Great. Would you like some tea?”

Taking a glass from Meg, Wes relaxed further in his chair. This was almost as good as talking to Mama.

* * *

After only a few sessions, the nightmare had been kept at bay. Wes felt a lightness he hadn’t in years. Possibly since he and Carrie had first begun dating. Meg had helped him see that he placed the weight of the world and any unforeseeable issue onto his own shoulders. When the only thing he really had control over was his own actions.

With the anxiety diminishing, Wes found himself smiling frequently, laughing at all of Rose’s silly jokes, and able to fully love Carrie well, without constantly being in fear for her safety.

Carrie had finally, after ten years, been able to return to her job at the little Poke Town school house. After her initial time there teaching, the town had been so pleased with the program, the county had worked to find the funding to support it as a new base school.

Then, Carrie had become pregnant and Rose was born, and life in general had gotten busy. As Rose continued to sprout and grow, so did the town of Poke. Where there had once only been a Main Street, there were now superstores, shopping centers, neighborhoods, and even their own movie theater and soon to be built mall.

There were more kids in Poke Town than the county schools could support, and so the one room school house had become the office for a new elementary school. And the principal had recently called Carrie, begging her to come back and teach kindergarten again.

Dropping her and Rose off on the first day of Carrie’s new job, and Rose’s first day at a new school Wes felt a broad grin spread across his face. A few months ago, he couldn’t have been able to imagine sitting here in his truck, releasing Carrie out into the world without feelings of anguish. It was good to let go. Once the door shut behind the two heads of golden curls, Wes pulled his old truck with its new engine, down the drive of the school and headed back to the ranch.

* * *

Wes was healed. The psychotherapy had been nothing like what he expected and turned out to be everything he needed.

Now living on the other side of his crippling anxiety, he realized he had let his little household slip, just a bit. But it was enough for him to know it was time to set things right and get his house back in order.

Carrie had taken to settling back into her bossy, sassy ways that were her nature. In the past, Wes had kept a firm hold on her to rein in her naughty side. Having been so scared that he would lose her he had loosened his hold.

Wes now stood, arms crossed leaning against the kitchen counter watching his spitfire of a wife lecture him, waving her red spatula at him as she did.

“And don’t even think for a second that you are going to be dropping me off every day. I don’t want to come off as some weak woman who can’t drive herself around.”

“I think you mean to say, ‘Daddy, can I please drive myself to work?’”

Carrie froze, spatula hanging in the air, mouth gaping open.

He felt a smile as wide as the Texas landscape crossing over his face at the look on her face. Wes had not referred to himself as her daddy since the birth of their daughter. A blush rose to her cheeks and a brightness shone in her eyes. But it was just a flash and she returned to her old ways.

“I absolutely am not asking you, Weston. I am telling you.” Hand on her hip, she held that red spatula out as if she were testing him.

Things had gotten a little more out of hand than he had thought. Little girls learn very quickly that they get what they ask for.

In a matter of seconds, he had crossed the floor, propped his foot up on the little stool they kept for Rose by the kitchen sink, and had his wife bent over his knee, her red spatula firmly gripped in his hand.

Flipping his wife’s skirt up over her back, he pulled her panties down with the hand he had the spatula in, tightly grabbing his wife’s flailing hands with the other and pinning them to her lower back. Lifting his arm high in the air, he brought the silicone implement down hard and fast with a satisfying whack.

“Ouchy!” Carrie cried out. “Don’t you dare use my spatula on me, Weston…”

He had no choice. He had to paddle that soft curve of a perfect behind hard and fast and not stop until Carrie was laying limp over his leg sobbing. There was no other way. Again, bringing his arm high in the air, he brought the spatula down hard. He continued to do this up and down with the hard whack sound ringing through the kitchen until her bottom was as red as his wife’s favorite spatula.

When he pulled her up into his arms she was sobbing, rubbing her bottom with both of her hands.

“No,” he said, grabbing her wrists in his hands. “You let that sink in, little girl. You’ve gotten too big for your britches and it’s time I laid down the law.”

Carrie melted on his chest, sobbing quietly into his shirt and nodding her head.

As Wes held her, rubbing her back gently, he leaned down, whispering into her ear, “Daddy’s back.”

At his simple words, her tear-filled eyes looked up at him shining.

* * *

Carrie was seeking to test every boundary and limit that Wes would set for her. And rightfully so. It had been too long since he had taken his little wife in hand. It was proving to not be enough to get them back to where they had been before. And so, Wes had decided to institute some maintenance, scheduled discipline into their marriage.

Tonight, was the first night of what he had planned to be a ‘maintenance session’. His wife stood before him, her jaw dropped and her hands on her hips.

“But I am meeting the other teachers for dinner and if I have to wait around for you to spank me, I am going to be late.”

“Then I will spank you and you will be late. Or I will spank you and you will stay. The choice is yours.”

“But you can’t just spring this on me, Weston. I had plans.”

“I was unaware of your plans. When were you going to tell me that you were going out? And if you call me Weston one more time I am going to throw you over that bed, take down your wooden Christmas paddle and reacquaint the two of you. Is that understood?”

Carrie gave a gulp. He knew she hated the wooden paddle that he kept in the back of their closet, hanging from its red ribbon. Changing her tune, she muttered, “Yes, sir.”

Pointing to the empty corner next to their bed, he said, “Now, take down your panties and go stand in your corner. I think you need a little time to remember what it means to be a submissive wife.”

Her cheeks blushing, Carrie reached up under her skirt with a huff, pulling her panties down around her thighs as was required of her, and shuffled off to her little naughty corner.

“Lift your skits and tuck them into the waist band so I can see that beautiful bottom of yours.”

With a sigh, she gathered the fabric of her skirts in the back, bunching and tucking them until the curve of her bare bottom was exposed, with her little pink panties showing around her mid-thigh.

“There you go, baby. Nice and pretty like daddy likes it.” Taking a seat in his special armless spanking chair, he sat and gazed upon his wife. “Let’s go over a few things, shall we?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“You are more than welcome to go out with your friends from work, but don’t you think you owe me the courtesy of telling me your plans ahead of time.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“And if Daddy has something he wants to do with you, or to you, who takes precedence over your social life?”

“You do, Daddy.”

“That’s right. And that’s the way you like it, isn’t it young lady?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Then come lay over my lap and show me.”

Turning to face him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed, Carrie did her little walk of shame over to her daddy’s lap, the placement of her panties constricting her movement as she did.

Giving a little sigh, she laid herself over her husband’s lap, positioning her bottom right over his thigh, just like Daddy’s good little girl.

* * *

Wes quickly had Carrie whipped back into shape. And she was loving it. Her hands had never been on him as much as they were now. It seemed the tighter the rein he held on her, the happier they were. And so, he was shocked when they got into their first fight since his daddy tone had made its reappearance. And it was over Mama, of all things.

“She does not have a boyfriend, Carrie. Let it go.”

“Yes, she does, Wes. And she is probably just scared to tell me because she knows I can’t hold a secret and I would tell you and she is terrified of your reaction.”

“This is ridiculous, Carrie. It’s just one of those times where you let your imagination get away from you. Do I need to remind you what happened to you and Jessica when she found all that cash and you two thought you were super sleuths and got Ray hauled down to jail?”

“That was just the work of that Poke Town busy body. This is for real, Weston, oops, I mean, Wes.” Her hands instinctively went to her bottom.

“That’s a paddling, young lady. But first we are finishing this conversation.”

“Fine. But I am not getting in trouble over this one. You are the one that needs to get a grip.”

He took two steps towards her and had her bottom in his firm grip and his wife on her tippy-toes.

“I have one,” he growled.

What she said next surprised him. He released his hold on her and stepped away.

“You need to let your mama go. She deserves her own life and she deserves love.”

Wes agitatedly ran his hand through his hair, heaving a sigh. “Who is this boyfriend you speak of?

“Harry.”

“Harry? You must be kidding me. Was it the overalls or the love of hip hop music that attracted her?”

“Neither. Both. I don’t know. He’s fun. Harry’s a hoot.”

Wes thought it over. It wasn’t that crazy. Harry was a fun guy. And kind. And had been a hard worker when he ran a ranch back in the day. And he had moved to the senior community the same week Mama had.

“Say—do you think they moved there, together?”

A knowing look shone in Carrie’s eyes. “I think they are shacking up.”

“I will wash your mouth out with soap, Carrie Ann, don’t think I won’t.”

She gave a little giggle. “I just mean I think that your assumptions are correct, sir.”

“She does seem happier than I’ve seen her in years, come to think of it,” he murmured.

Mama had visited the ranch just last Sunday. She laughed and smiled the whole time. Joking and carrying on more than he had ever remembered her doing since his dad had passed away.

“Maybe you need to go see Meg about this one. It seems like you are having a tough time with it.”

He raised a brow to her seeing if she was being sassy with him. She wasn’t.

“I’m calling, Mama. Best to get the story straight from her.”

Carrie grabbed his arm. “Don’t ruin this for her, baby. She’s happy and you know how much stock she puts in your thoughts about things. Just be happy for her.”

“I will.” Giving her a kiss on the head, Wes went to make his phone call.

* * *

“Yeah—they’ve been dating over a year now,” Garrett replied, picking at the horseshoe on Dipper.

Wes couldn’t believe his brother’s words. “You knew? And you didn’t tell me? Why?”

Without even looking up from his work, Garrett picked at the shoe. “Because we all knew you’d fly off the handle. Like you are doing now.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Damn. And they are living together? Up there at ‘seniors have more fun’ center?”

“Yep.” Standing and brushing his hands on his jeans Garrett looked at his brother. “Why shouldn’t they be? You have Carrie. You are happy. Let them be happy.”

“But it’s our Mama. And Harry for Pete’s sake. Doesn’t it bother you at all?”

Garrett placed a brotherly hand on Wes’ shoulder. “Nope. And it shouldn’t bother you, either.”

Wes had to chuckle at his own overprotective nature. “I guess I am being a tad ridiculous.”

“A lot ridiculous.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Fine. But please tell me you told her to bring Harry to dinner Sunday when you talked to her on the phone.”

“I didn’t think of it.”

“Well, you need to. She’s waiting on your approval, Wes. You are the patriarch of the family.”

“All right, I’ll call her back. But I’m not playing any rap when Harry’s here.”

“You mean your new dad?” Garrett said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Stop it, Gare—you are taking it too far. I can only handle so much. Besides, how’s your love life?” Wes asked, turning the tables on his teasing younger brother.

Garrett’s face clouded over. “I told you. I am never going down that road again.”

“Never say never, brother. Love comes when you least expect it.”

The teasing look was back in Garrett’s eyes as he quipped to Wes, “That’s just what Mama said to me.”