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Jo

I mpressive strength and resilience .

Jo pulled up her notes from their previous session together and asked the program to read them out loud to her. It was something she liked to do before writing down her thoughts from a new session.

Truth was, she was impressed with Hugo’s resilience. They’d only had four sessions together, but already she could see him putting to use some of the techniques she’d taught him. Hell, even Madame Lagarde was impressed. Apparently, Hugo had been precisely two minutes early to every session since that first time. It seemed to Jo that her receptionist’s heart might be softening towards him. Perhaps she might even eventually forgive him for his earlier faux pas .

Jo noted down the latest exercise they’d done together. In her notes, she didn’t shy away from using the technical term, MBSR. Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction was a practice that she’d employed successfully to help patients address the emotional roots of their nightmares, and she was confident it would work with Hugo as well. He’d sounded reluctant when she’d originally mentioned the word mindfulness, and the word wasn’t necessary in order for the approach to work, so she was avoiding referring to it as such in his presence.

Eventually, she was hoping she might introduce him to the concept of mindful dreaming. It was one of the techniques that had helped her the most, back when she’d been experiencing debilitating nightmares herself. But it was going to take time to get there.

She hoped he’d be willing to give her the time. He was taking their sessions together seriously, but she also knew he’d be going back to work in just one week’s time. And these kinds of things couldn’t be solved by just a few sessions together. She needed more time.

Unexpected nausea swirled in her belly. She froze, hands on the keyboard, a cold sweat prickling at the back of her neck. What did I eat? This wasn’t the first time it happened. The braised ham in her fridge came to mind. She still had a bit left. She wouldn’t say anything to Sandro, but she was going to trash it as soon as she got home. Or stress . It could also be stress. Between her patients, and the new book she was writing, she’d been working a lot. Almost all day every day and long into each evening. Maybe this was her body telling her it was too much. That she had to take a break.

Another wave of nausea rolled through her, stronger this time. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through it, willing the sensation to pass. It was that, or run to the bathroom. Think of something else. Anything else. Hugo came to mind. She was spending a lot of time thinking about him—and not precisely as a patient. She liked his quiet, solid presence. She liked the way he smelled—like sandalwood and clean cotton.

The nausea settled, then disappeared. An instant later, it was as if it’d never existed. Jo told herself she’d give it one or two more days, tops. If not, she was going to the doctor.