I quickly ended the call.
What had I been thinking? I stuffed the papers back into Gina’s file. I got up. Maybe a nice warm bath would help. I stripped off my clothes, put on a robe, and was heading toward my bathroom door when my phone rang.
A quick look at the caller ID, and my heart sank. The number I’d just called. Shit. What had I done? I couldn’t ignore the call. Well, I could, but they could easily find out who the number belonged to. No, best to deal with the consequences now.
I picked up the cordless. “Hello?”
“Yes.” A throat cleared. “We just got a call from this number?”
“Is this Mr. Cates?”
“Dr. Cates, yes.”
Right. He had a Ph.D. in linguistics. “I’m sorry to disturb you. This is Melanie Carmichael. I was your daughter Gina’s therapist. Yes, I did try calling earlier, but the call didn’t go through. I thought I would try again in the morning.” I bit my lip, hoping he’d buy the lie.
“What is it that you want, Dr. Carmichael?”
I cleared my throat this time. “I just wanted to check in with you and your wife. See if there was anything I could do for you.”
“We are doing as well as can be expected. The loss of our daughter has been hard to bear.”
“I’m sure it has been. It’s been weighing heavily on my mind as well. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are.”
What was that supposed to mean? I had no idea. This call had been a mistake. I knew better than to let my emotions get the better of me. “Gina was a very special person.” I bit my lip. I wanted to say that she was in a better place, that she was happier now, free of the burdens of this life, but I didn’t know what his beliefs were, and I wasn’t sure I believed that stuff myself. Instead I said, “If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I apologize for intruding on your evening. Good night.”
Dr. Cates said nothing, so I ended the call.
Gina hadn’t left a suicide note other than the letter she sent to me. I hadn’t shared that with her parents, and they hadn’t asked for anything from me. Should I have told them about the letter? It was personal, not part of the record, and I was not obligated to divulge it to them. Plus, I wasn’t sure how they would feel about their daughter falling in love with her female therapist. She told me herself she had only dated men, so they probably had no idea she was gay or bisexual.
If only I could go back—go back and do something differently—Gina might be alive today.
But there was no going back. Like Jonah Steel, I was filled with guilt. Filled with a case of the “what ifs.” How many times had I told my patients not to play the “what if” game? It was damned good advice, too. Still, I couldn’t help playing the game myself. What if I had done something differently? What if I had seen that she was harboring feelings for me? What if I had seen something to indicate she was suicidal?
But I hadn’t.
And I couldn’t go back in time, as much as I wished to.
A couple of days later, when Randi gave me my schedule for the day, I widened my eyes.
“Jonah Steel?”
“Yeah. He called yesterday, and you had an opening because Macy Andrews canceled at the last minute. So I slipped him in.”
“Okay.” I had neglected to tell Randi not to schedule him again. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. I figured he wouldn’t call after the last time. “I won’t be seeing him as a patient anymore, but there was no reason for you to know that. I’ll call him myself and cancel.”
“I’m happy to do that for you, Dr. Carmichael.”
“No, I need to do this. Thanks, though.”
I closed my door behind me and headed to my desk. I grabbed Jonah’s file and found his number. And of course I got voice mail.
“This is Jonah Steel. Please leave a message.”
Short and sweet. Very Jonah-like. “Hello. This is Melanie Carmichael. I see you scheduled an appointment for this afternoon at three. I’m afraid I have to cancel. As you know, given what happened the other day, I can’t see you professionally anymore. I’m happy to recommend another therapist. I wish you the best.”
Good. That was that. Hopefully he’d get the message.
And then suddenly I knew he wouldn’t. So I got online and looked up the number for Steel Acres ranch. I tapped in the number.
“Steel Acres, may I help you?”
“Yes, please, I’d like to speak to Jonah Steel.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Steel isn’t in the office. He’s in the pastures, and he’s going to the city this afternoon for an appointment.”
Of course. An appointment. With me.
“May I take a message?”
“Yes, this is Dr. Melanie Carmichael. I have to cancel his appointment for this afternoon. Please let him know.”
“Did you try his cell phone? He won’t be back in the office today.”
“I did, but I would appreciate if you could also try to get the message to him.”