He’d made an appointment with Esri after work. She kept some Saturday hours for her clients who worked during the week, and although her schedule was full, she’d agreed to set aside fifty minutes for him when he told her what had happened.
He headed straight to her office from the slopes and found her waiting for him. He got settled in the seat across from her and found himself fighting for words, mind and body revolting against the memories in his head. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“You’re right. It won’t be. But I think it will be worth it in the end.”
He told her what had happened at Ellie’s house, told her about Christine’s death, then shared with her what Ellie had said, how she’d linked his mother, the little Fisher girl, and Christine together.
“Ellie’s pretty smart. She’s got some psychology training as a nurse, I’m sure. And you know what? I think she’s right. This is why I wanted to talk about the impact that saving a life has on you. You seem to live for it, almost as if—”
“It makes up for the people I couldn’t save.” He understood now.
“Exactly.” Esri leaned toward him. “Jesse, you are no longer that little boy who couldn’t help his mom. You’re no longer that helpless child. You’re a grown man, and you’ve done more in your life to help people than most of us.”
Her words made his throat tight, but fuck if he was going to cry in front of her. “Am I crazy?”
“First, no, you’re not crazy. From where I’m sitting, you’re completely normal for someone dealing with post-traumatic stress. In fact, you’re in a better position than many. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“You’re motivated to deal with it, to face it. A lot of people spend their lives running away.”
“But how could I have forgotten her? How could I have forgotten Christine? I cared about her. She died in my arms.”
“The mind works overtime to shelter us from trauma. Think of it this way: Your mind locked that memory away until it felt you were safe, until it felt you could handle facing your feelings about what happened that day.”
“It’s Ellie, isn’t it?” She’d come into his life, and everything had changed.
“What do you think?”
“I hate it when you do that.” He took a breath, tried not to get pissed off. “I think I’m in love with her, and it scares the shit out of me. So how could I be feeling safe?”
This made Esri smile. “You’re talking about two different things. For you to love her, I would think you trust her.”
“Okay. Sure.”
“Trust can make a person feel safe, especially if they come from a background of abuse, like you do. As for love—that can come with feelings of vulnerability. We’re suddenly in a place where we can be hurt by another person.”
But that’s not what scared Jesse. “I’m not afraid for myself. I don’t want to hurt her—or the kids.”
Esri nodded. “Have you ever hit or shoved or threatened a woman?”
“No.”
“How about a child or an animal?”
“God, no.” He saw where she was going with this. “Some part of me is afraid that I’ll be like my dad, that he’s hiding inside me somewhere, that I’ll settle down with someone I love—and then destroy everything.”
“The fact that you haven’t demonstrated abusive behavior is a good indicator that you won’t head down that path in the future. We can talk about that more at our next session.”
He glanced at the clock, surprised to see that fifty minutes had gone by already.
“Jesse, I’m going to suggest something. Why don’t we schedule a regular, weekly appointment rather than doing this ad hoc crisis-management thing? That way, you’ll know you’re going to see me, and we can focus on treating your PTSD.”
“Okay.”
“Read through these when you get a chance.” She gave him a couple of flyers about PTSD, then made an appointment with him for Wednesday morning.
“I can’t believe you’re still not charging me.”
“Karma.” She turned out her office light. “You save people, remember?”
*
The next two weeks passed quickly, Ellie busy with the twins, work, and the final details for the first-aid tent. One of her volunteers—a firefighter—came down with mono, so she’d had to replace her. She’d also tracked down phone numbers—the names and numbers of the staff members in charge of delivering the supplies, as well as the contact information for the person with the Town of Scarlet who oversaw hooking up the tent with electricity. She didn’t want to get stuck at seven in the morning in the freezing cold with a problem she couldn’t solve and no idea whom to contact.