Page 23 of Gideon’s Gratitude (Love in Mission City #5)

Oh Jesus. “I haven’t looked at those instructions in years.

Leo, uh, we, loved ribs. A treat, on our budget, but one we indulged in once in a while.

” I’d had these in my freezer for a long time, waiting for the perfect reason to cook them up.

Waiting for a special occasion. Today—and Archer—definitely qualified.

“You have wonderful memories. You shouldn’t shy away from them. If you want to keep your kids close to you, then you have to keep Leo there as well.”

“How did you get to be so smart?”

He turned from our road onto one of the normally more-populated ones. Even then, no cars were in sight.

“I’m not smart. Just years of observation.

Divorce embitters. That’s hardly surprising.

But I find that as long as there hasn’t been abuse—or some other horrendous behavior—staying on good terms with your ex creates a healthier world for your children.

In turn, those kids have fewer emotional and psychological problems. I have a couple books I can lend you. ”

I rubbed my temple.

Archer cut me a side-glance. “I have a better idea. Two of the books have been made into audios. I can download them onto my old iPod and lend them to you. You can listen when you’re cooking or walking the dog.”

He knew. I wasn’t sure how he’d sensed it, but the perceptive man knew. And understood. I wanted to ask, but the GPS directed us to hang a right turn. Not being familiar with this part of town, I’d have to keep an eye out for the counseling center.

The GPS announced we’d arrived before I could make out the sign in the gloom .

Archer eased us into the turn, and we began a gradual climb. Soaring trees lined both sides of the driveway and eventually we arrived at a clearing with a parking lot.

My companion parked the car and shut off the engine. “Are you okay with me coming in and sitting in the waiting room? I’m just as happy out here in the vehicle.”

Oh, he’d brought his messenger bag. Presumably with his netbook.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Unreasonably, I wanted to ask him to join me in the counseling session, but I suspected he’d refuse.

Or the counselor would. And, much as I wanted to rely on him as a crutch, I needed to face this on my own. “Please come in.”

“I shall.”

We donned our hoods and exited the SUV.

I opened the back door, clipped on Lucky’s leash, and coaxed the dog down.

Despite being a water dog, he was never thrilled about the rain. Long walks? Sure. Pouring rain? Not so much.

Dog’s smarter than I am.

We sprinted to the door as it opened and a woman beckoned us inside.

Lucky made it through first and promptly shook. Water sprayed everywhere.

My heart sank.

The woman with long, black hair dropped to a crouch and met Lucky’s gaze. “Aren’t you a special dog? I have a towel. May I give you a rubdown?”

Apparently she used all the right words, because he slathered her cheek.

She rose and pointed to a coat tree. “You gentlemen can hang up your coats. ”

“Are you Kennedy?” I wasn’t sure this was the right foot to step in on.

The woman grinned. “No, I keep the dogs in line.” She held out her hand. “Name’s Rainbow.”

I shook her hand, noting both the calluses and the warmth.

“I’m Gideon. This is my friend, Archer. I hope it’s okay he came with me.”

Light-blue eyes shone. “We always welcome everyone.”

Archer shook her hand. “I’m going to stay in the waiting room, if that’s all right.”

She pointed over her shoulder to a cozy room with a fireplace and several plush couches. Nodding at his messenger bag, she offered, “Or I can find you an office. Or you can sit in the kitchen. I’m baking bread.”

I rubbed my temple. “Is this someone’s home?”

Rainbow waved her hand in a so-so gesture.

“I live here with my sister, and I run the day-to-day operations of the ranch. Kind of a vocation, you know? I do all the chores, take care of the horses, keep an eye on the therapy dog, and occasionally run clients in and out of town when needed. Not everyone has a car, and obviously the buses don’t run up here. ”

“You sound busy.” Archer looked around. “The place is homey.”

“Well, then, you’ll have to join me in the kitchen. We can chat or you can just work, whatever suits your fancy. We’re as much about the silence as about the conversation.”

“Gideon?”

We pivoted to find a striking-looking woman exiting an office.

Whomever I expected, this tall woman wasn’t her.

Her chestnut-brown hair fell in soft curls down her back.

And those eyes. Dark-brown and super intense.

And attractive. Objectively, this woman was stunning.

Her features were delicate, with an upturned nose, sharp cheekbones, and lips that would make most women jealous.

I'd learned, though, not to base my opinion on first impressions. Some of the roughest and objectively ugliest people I’d met had the biggest hearts. And some, like Archer, were attractive and had a big heart.

Said man nudged me forward.

“Yes, I’m Gideon.”

Before I could do anything else, Lucky barreled over to the woman, rubbing his wet fur against her jeans-clad thighs.

“Lucky.” Part admonishment, part exasperation. Par for the course.

Kennedy offered a beaming smile. “Oh, Lucky, is it?”

Serious tail wagging.

She held out her hand to be sniffed.

Within moments, he nuzzled his head under her fingers.

She obliged him with some serious scritches. “Are you allowed to play with toys?”

The dog, already excited, perked up further.

“Perfect. You and Gideon can come into my office, and we’ll see what we can find.”

I hesitated until a firm hand pressed to my back.

“You’ve got this.” Archer whispered the words so only I could hear. So close, his breath tickled. With a gentle nudge, he propelled me forward.

As I followed the counselor, Archer’s low rumble followed by Rainbow’s tinkling laughter reached my ears.

Don’t be jealous. He has every right to flirt.

And who was to say he was flirting? He often made Riley laugh, and they weren’t in a relationship. The man had an easy way with people—both men and women. I, frankly, was jealous of the ease with which Archer moved in the world.

“Sit wherever you like.”

Focus.

Two plush chairs sat across from a large couch that could easily seat three or four. I tilted my head.

“I do family counseling as well. Some families barely fit in here.”

I couldn’t imagine. Or maybe I could. Leo, the kids, and I would fit perfectly on that couch. I opted for the chair.

Kennedy opened a smaller chest against a far wall. She pointed to the larger one. “Kids’ toys.” She indicated Lucky could look inside.

His cocked head indicated he wasn’t sure.

“He’s still uncertain around people…” Yet even as I said the words, the dog ventured over and stuck his head in. Within moments, he pulled a bright-yellow crocodile out. He chomped, and the toy squeaked.

“Oh dear.” I moaned because Lucky loved his squeaky toys.

“No, it’s perfect.” Kennedy petted the dog and pointed to a blanket by my feet.

Amazingly, my dog settled onto the blanket and began industriously chewing.

Every squeak grated on my nerves and yet, after a few times, the noise had a calming effect.

“Do you want to start, or would you like me to go first?”

Her words surprised me.

“I better go first. Otherwise I’ll lose my nerve, you know?”

“I do know.” She leaned back in her chair in what I thought of as an open pose. Open and willing to listen. So different from Leo’s crossed-arms-and-scowl pose.

I began. Haltingly at first. The secret relationship in high school.

The disownment. The relationship that began as a promise and became a marriage as soon as gay marriage was legal in Canada.

The financial struggles to put Leo through school while paying the mortgage on our tiny one-bedroom condo.

Being able to sell that condo and move into a townhouse when Leo finished the academic part of his learning.

The adoption of the children. The joy and the happiness.

All a distant memory. Almost like I was recounting someone else’s life.

Then the darkness. The injury, the surgery, the pain.

I tried not to dwell, but I wanted her to know how hard I fought against it.

Then the night I passed out. How Leo booted me and issued the ultimatum.

How I capitulated. My time in Mission City, trying to sort out my crap.

The dark places my mind went to. The support group I belonged to.

And, finally, Archer. I glossed over most of that relationship because I didn’t have the right words. I didn’t have any words.

Through all this, Kennedy held herself still. She nodded frequently, and asked three questions at various times when I clearly wasn’t making sense. She kept me focused on moving forward.

I was wrung out. I had no idea of the time. Of even the space. My back ached, my temples throbbed, and Lucky had long ago passed out.

“I’m glad you felt comfortable sharing all that with me.” Words softly spoken.

“I don’t know if comfortable is the right word.” And I didn’t. More like word vomit.

“Well, regardless, I’m glad you didn’t hold back. The more honest you are with me, and with yourself, the more productive we can make our time together. ”

Another rub to the temple. “Yeah, about that…” How did one bring up money?

“The clinic works on a sliding scale. Your sessions will be around ten dollars. Is that acceptable?”

I’d done my research. Good counselors charged easily ten or twenty times that. Sometimes more. “I don’t understand.”

“We have benefactors who make contributions. People who understand the critical importance of mental health. Some who’ve been patients, and others who have had loved ones visit.

We also receive money from various levels of government to help with funding.

Sometimes it’s a challenge, but we have a great administrative staff who keep the wheels turning. ”