Leigh Meriwether sat in her arm chair facing the faux leather couch that now hosted George and Sarah Donner. The forty-something couple's counseling had lessened their arguments, but it had also loosened their tongues. Over the last few sessions, Leigh had heard things no one would expect from George, an overweight Baptist preacher with a bad comb-over. Sarah, equally overweight and dressed in a high-necked green dress, had been just as forthcoming with her troubles.
And there she sat on the edge of her seat, confessing in a not-so-quiet whisper, "He wants me to do things!"
Though Leigh dreaded knowing any more about their love life, she had to ask. "Okay, what things does he want you to do?"
Mrs. Donner cast a nervous glance at her husband, curled her fingers and thumb into a circle, and made an O with her mouth. She awkwardly bobbed her head up and down. Ugh. Why couldn't she just say blow job and get it over with?
Leigh closed her eyes and waved both hands to stop the 'demonstration.' "Okay, I get it. Most couples engage in oral sex from time to time."
Reverend Donner gestured to Leigh. "See? I'm not a pervert."
"But," Leigh continued, "it's important to uncover any possible mental blocks that might keep you from experimenting with new sexual activities. Are you afraid of any particular, um, aspect of the act?" She braced herself for a graphic retelling of a failed sex night or worse. These two needed a sex therapist, but Leigh was made of sterner stuff, as her mum said. Surely, she could hide her shock for another ten minutes.
Mrs. Donner grabbed a tissue from the side table, then yanked out two more.
"Here we go," the reverend mumbled.
"We used to do things. You know, experiment like that."
Leigh noticed the reverend's subtle head shake. She fought to keep a straight face.
"But then my chi-i-i-ickens..." Mrs. Donner sobbed, holding the wad of tissues to her face.
Her husband patted her back half-heartedly and rolled his eyes. Leigh had heard the chicken story more times than she cared to remember. She could only imagine how many times Mrs. Donner's long-suffering husband had heard it.
"And after that," Mrs. Donner wailed into her tissues. "I just didn't want to li-i-i-ive."
"Sarah, it's been fourteen years," he said. "Can you just forget about the chickens? You even ate some of them."
"They were my children!"
"Don't you have children?" Leigh asked, hoping she hadn't mixed up her clients.
"Five," Reverend Donner answered.
Mrs. Donner's head shot up. Her wet, red eyes glared at him. "You wouldn't understand!"
"You've got that right."
Her pleading eyes turned on Leigh. "They had names! And then that Maddox boy... I can't even say his name without wanting to gag." She retched into her tissues. The woman really should have been an actress. Emmy material right there.
"So..." Leigh prompted, "That's why you can't, um, perform oral sex? It brings back memories of your chickens' death."
"And that Maddox boy!"
"And I'm the pervert," the reverend mumbled.
She slapped him on the chest. "Not the boy, you idiot, what he did to my chickens."
"They tasted pretty good to me," he said with a shrug.
She slapped him again.
He winced and rubbed his chest. "Have a little compassion for the kid, Sarah. He lost his parents when he was nine years old."
"Really? How?" Leigh normally wouldn't have been curious if the person in question wasn't in her appointment book for that afternoon.
The reverend tightened his lips into a straight line as though reluctant to say anything. "His dad died suddenly, and his mom ran off. No one's seen her since."
That was enough for now. If she asked for more details, her boss would reprimand her for not focusing on her current clients' needs.
"That's really no excuse," Mrs. Donner said then blew her nose into the tissues. It sounded very wet.
Leigh's appetite went bye-bye. Who needed lunch anyway?
"Okay, your time's about up. What I want you to do is..." She turned in her chair and searched the bookshelf. They weren't Kama Sutra people. She decided on The Good Girl's Guide to Great Sex. "Here, take this home, and try to implement some of the ideas."
Reverend Donner took the book and stood while his wife gathered her tissues and tossed them in the garbage can. "Thank you, Leigh. We'll do our best." He didn't sound too hopeful.
****
After a lunch of water, pretzels, and peanut butter, Leigh returned to her office and sat at her desk with a long, heavy sigh. Her finger hesitated over the speaker button. She’d been back and forth with herself for a week, wondering if her next case would be too much to handle. Jesse Maddox had a bad reputation in Beach Pointe, though by some accounts he’d cleaned up his act since joining the sheriff’s department. Yet, the stories Mrs. Donner and other clients had told her about his former misdeeds made her wonder if she should take her chances with him. The worsening headache that had developed before lunch didn’t help matters.
She pressed the button.
“Yes, Doc?” Becky, the ever-bubbly receptionist chirped.
Leigh wished she’d stop calling her Doc, since she wasn’t a psychiatrist, didn’t have a Ph.D., and wasn’t fully licensed as a counselor yet. She had to complete her four thousand hours of supervised work under Dr. Gadbury first. With just a hundred hours left and the National Counselor Exam looming ahead, it wouldn’t do to get stressed over a possibly unreformed bully.
“Cancel my one o’clock, okay?” Leigh asked.
“Um, well…”
A drawling, deep voice resonated through the speaker phone. “If it’s a bad time, I can cancel.”
Then to make matters worse, Dr. Gadbury’s nasally voice followed. “What’s going on?”
Leigh sank her forehead into her hand. Lovely—the deputy was early. And her boss had just come back from his lunch break. She never faked sickness, so she’d have to suck it up and do her job or risk losing Dr. Gadbury’s recommendation.
She pressed the button again. “Never mind. Send him in.”
Sitting up straight in her desk chair, she ran her fingers through her curls and popped a Tic-Tac. The door opened, and Jesse stepped in, ducking slightly to clear the top of the door frame.
Good gracious, he was a lot bigger and taller than she expected. Sure, she’d seen him around town here and there, but never close enough to appreciate the sheer size of him. His former round, pimply face she had seen in a high school yearbook had turned rugged, with a strong, square jaw and a five-o-clock shadow. A faint white scar striped his left cheek. He didn’t have a Joe Dirt mullet like he had as a teen, but a severely short-shaved style. Why anyone would choose to let their scalp show was beyond her, but it was common for those in law enforcement. And, of course, he was dressed in full uniform, complete with a pistol, stun gun, and billy club. She shuddered a little at the thought of him having access to deadly weapons.
He removed his hat, which had a few stains, and gave her a curt nod. “Ma’am.”
“Good afternoon, Officer Maddox. You can have a seat there on the couch.”
“Thanks.” Jesse did as she requested, setting his hat on the side table. He sat straight and tall, his fingers gripping the armrest, and scanned the room without turning his head. He seemed keenly aware of everything around him, as she would expect for a cop. It could also mean he needed stability and security, which could explain why he had an appointment today.
She took a seat in her worn armchair across from Jesse. Beach Pointe Counseling sat on the end of an eighties-era strip mall. Her office, in the far back corner, was cozy, if a little dated. The baby-crap green shag carpet felt good beneath Leigh’s feet, and she kept it flawlessly clean. The wood-paneled walls looked like something you’d find in an old mobile home, but she had dressed them up with her diploma and certifications, not to mention some colorful artwork she’d found at the local flea market.
He tapped his foot as though he was impatient for this whole thing to be over. That made two of them. Leigh opened her legal pad and clicked her ballpoint pen. So close to her license, she reminded herself. If she could stomach the Donners' sex problems, surely she could grin and bear a few sessions with the town bully.
Leigh applied her best welcoming smile. “So, what brings you here today, Officer Maddox?”
“It’s Deputy, ma’am, but you can call me Jesse.”
“And you can call me Leigh. I’m a little too young for ma’am.”
He nodded. “All right.” Then he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m here because Sheriff told me I had to be.”
“Are you on an investigation? I hope you know that my clients’ files are confidential except under the rare circumstances that I am obliged to come forward to the authorities.”
“No, ma’am, I mean Leigh.” He scratched his head and returned his death grip to the armrest. “I can’t sleep. Sheriff told me to try a therapist.”
“I see. How did you feel about that?”
A slight smirk tweaked his lips to one side. “It’s a waste of time.”
She’d heard that more than she cared to count. And coming from this guy soured the sentiment even more. Focusing on her notepad, she swallowed past the aggravation and reapplied her peaceful smile. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind when our sessions are complete.”
“I doubt it.” He scanned the room before meeting her gaze again. “Are you from here?”
“Yes.” The inevitable confusion narrowed his eyes. “Sort of. My family lived in Bardstown until I was ten.”
“Your accent is…”
“My mom’s British.” Her accent wasn’t nearly as pronounced as her mother’s, so most people didn’t seem to pick up on it. If anything, Jesse Maddox certainly was observant.
“Oh. I’ve seen you in town, but I don’t remember you from school.”
Of course he wouldn’t remember. No one did. “I was homeschooled.”
“Oh.” His gaze locked on a picture of her parents on the side table.
Here we go again. Would she have to explain that yes, there are black women in the United Kingdom? And that yes, it is legal for them to marry white American men? Surely he knew better than that, but she’d answered those ridiculous questions more than once. Why her parents loved this hick town, she’d never know. But her mom, Josephine, loved working at the animal clinic and her dad, Roscoe, was co-owner of a body shop that was pretty much a town fixture. And since she was still paying off student loans, she needed to live at home for a while longer, no matter how backwards the place could be.
Leigh tapped her pen on her notebook. “How about we focus on your insomnia problem so you don’t waste your session hour any more than we already have?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I can’t sleep.”
“Do you have any dreams? Nightmares?"
"Sometimes." Jesse lowered his head and shifted in his seat as though the topic made him uncomfortable. He probably had nightmares about his father's death and mother's abandonment.
She made note of it: Client exhibits anxiety at mention of nightmares. "Have you experienced any additional job stress lately?”
“Not really. It’s usually pretty quiet around here. Got the occasional drunk driver and petty theft, possession of marijuana, that sort of thing. Haven’t seen a murder or bad wreck for a couple years.”
“Do you have any nightmares about any of those things? Or find your thoughts drifting to them often?”
“Every now and then, but I don’t focus on it.”
Leigh clicked her pen a few times before making another note: Job stress level seems normal for now. His stoic expression was difficult to read. She had to go back farther and pretend she didn’t know his parents had died and what he’d been like as a kid. “What about your childhood? Do you remember any traumatic events or abuse?”
He let go of the armrest and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Hanging his head, he sighed again.
“Remember everything said in here is strictly confidential.”
His gaze met hers again, but this time with a decidedly angry edge. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with me not sleeping. Just give me a prescription for sleeping pills so I can be on my way.”
“I can’t prescribe medication.”
“Then send me to someone who can.”
“You’d rather take pills than talk about your problems?”
He sat up straight and huffed a laugh. “Counseling doesn’t do shit but make people hate each other.”
“Why do you say that?” Leigh had a knack for extracting things from her clients. She made a note: Client exhibits bitterness and suppressed anger, likely in part from family counseling that failed.
She gripped her pen, ready to write whatever secrets he might reveal next.
“It doesn’t matter.” He glanced up at her with sad eyes, but not quite as troubled as she’d expected. “Let’s just get this over with. What can I do to sleep again? Count sheep? Drink herbal tea?”
This was getting frustrating. Besides the occasional stubborn spouse or child, clients were usually more than ready to spill their guts. She glanced at the red light on the video camera mounted near the ceiling. All her sessions were recorded for Dr. Gadbury to either watch live or review later. Either way, he’d probably lecture her on improving her persuasion techniques, posture, makeup, or whatever he imagined prevented her from being effective that day.
How could she crack this shell? She couldn’t risk mentioning some of the terrible things she knew about him, and he clearly wasn't ready to talk about his family. But then again…maybe she was onto something.
“My dad used to say that only a man with a clear conscience can sleep well at night. What’s weighing on your conscience, Jesse?”
He took a deep breath and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. “Look, I know I haven’t always been, um, respectable. You’ve probably heard some things about me. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t true.”
She set her notebook in her lap and looked him in the eye. “I think we’re getting somewhere. You’re feeling guilt over past hurts you’ve inflicted upon others.”
“You make it sound nicer than it was, but yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Have you had to deal with any of those people you hurt recently?”
A few seconds of heavy silence passed. “Yeah, Garrett Mann. I bullied him pretty bad in school. Pretty sure he still hates me. Can’t blame him. I dated his girlfriend a time or two before he came back to town. She doesn’t think much of me either.”
“You liked this girl?”
He lowered his eyes. “Yeah. But I can’t blame her for wanting Garrett. He’s a good guy. Squeaky clean.”
“Well, Jesse, how many people would you say you treated badly as a kid?”
“I don’t know. I lost count.”
“Okay, but let’s try something. I want you to make a list.”
“A list.”
“Exactly.”
“A list of what?”
“Of people you hurt, but that’s not all. I want you to apologize to each of them and come up with ways you can help them. It could be as simple as buying them a cup of coffee or carrying groceries, but it must be something that both benefits them and helps you to forgive yourself.”
Jesse crossed his arms. The heel on his shiny black shoe bounced impatiently. “What if they don’t accept my apology or my help?”
“Then find some way to help them indirectly by donating to a charity they support or to their church. But let’s not cross that bridge until we come to it.”
“You really think this’ll work?”
“I think it could, but it depends on you and how much you’re willing to humble yourself and volunteer your time.”
“I reckon I’m good for it,” he said with a shrug. “So when I make this list, then what?”
“Start with ten people. After each one you cross off your list, you’ll come back here for another session for a total of ten weeks. I have a feeling by then, you’ll already be sleeping better. But don’t stop until it’s complete. Are you ready to do this?”
“If it keeps me employed, then sure, why not?”
By the time their hour was finished, Leigh had helped Jesse come up with a list of names.
1.Garrett Mann
2.Mrs. Jenkins
3.Marge Sandusky
4.Patty Burton
5.Pa
6.Reverend Bobby Simpson
7.Avery Price
8.Sarah Donner
9.Jack
10.Dad
He stood to leave and pointed toward the picture of her mom and dad. “Tell your mom I’ll be picking up those new kittens to foster tomorrow. Those last two kinda grew on me.”
“Um…okay, I’ll do that. See you in a week?”
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks.” He went for the door.
“Jesse?”
“Yeah?”
Leigh nodded her head toward the side table. “Your hat.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He picked it up, smiled, and lodged it on his head.
It fit him well, made him look more the part of a strong, dependable lawman. She couldn’t help but notice how that quick smile had brightened his facial features.
Deputy Maddox walked out of her office and past Becky’s desk. He tipped his hat at the receptionist, who fawned and blinked and blushed about it like a silly teenage girl. Leigh watched him through the window as he got into the police car and drove away. He didn’t seem to be the holy terror he’d been as a kid, but looks could be deceiving. He’d probably abandon this treatment plan and procure a good tranquilizer from a doctor instead. But then again, he knew her mom and fostered kittens. There just might be hope for him after all.