He found himself in a small waiting room that was, thankfully, empty. There was a door to another room and presently a tall, spindly man with a sharp nose and thin hair that flopped onto his forehead appeared there. He smiled. “You must be Rick.”
“And you must be the counselor.”
Jerry laughed. “Come on back.”
Rick slowly followed while Jerry waited at the door. He indicated a couple of chairs facing each other and then he closed the door. “I’m not expecting clients right now, but I close the door in case anyone wanders into the waiting room. This room is soundproofed for our privacy.”
Rick sat. Between the chairs, a small table bore a box of tissues. That was for when he broke down and cried like a girl.
Before sitting, Jerry offered his hand. “Jerry Powell, Rick. It’s nice to meet you. And even though you might be tired of hearing it, thank you for the service you perform on behalf of our country. Not only do I appreciate it, I’m deeply touched and personally indebted to you.”
Rick was surprised. He tilted his head. Actually, he hadn’t heard that. Maybe if he’d gone to his own welcome-home party at the bar, he might have. But instead of saying thank-you, he said, “Just so you know, I don’t want to be here.”
Jerry actually smiled. “Which puts you in the majority. I do some work for the county and from time to time a junior-high or high-school student, in trouble at school, comes my way as part of penance. A way of not getting expelled. If you think they want to be here…”
“What happened to me wasn’t high-school stuff.”
Jerry sobered. “I’m aware of that.” He let that go a beat. “Well, I should explain—I’ve never counseled a disabled veteran before. I’ve had vets, I’ve had amputees, I’ve counseled lots of people with disabilities, but I’ve never counseled a person trying to adjust to civilian life after a war injury.”
“Maybe you don’t know what you’re doing?”
“Or maybe we’ll learn from each other,” he said easily, not in the least intimidated by Rick’s hostile nature. “I’ll try to keep up. Anywhere in particular you’d like to start?”
“Maybe you didn’t hear me—I’d rather not do this at all.”
“Okay, I’ll start. I’ve been in Grace Valley about ten years now. There’s a rumor going around that I claim to have gone on a ride in a spaceship with aliens.” He shrugged. “It’s the absolute truth—I really did. I swear. I don’t even care that hardly anyone buys it—it happened to me. Screwed me up pretty good for a while. I’ll make a deal—you tell me some of the stuff that’s giving you trouble. I’ll tell you about the spaceship.”
Rick’s mouth hung open. He stared at him in total astonishment. When he did finally shut his mouth, he opened it again to say, “You’re fucking kidding me!”
Jerry smiled. “God’s truth.”
“You’re a nutcase? And you think you’re going to help me?”
“I’m a survivor of a traumatic experience. It took a lot of counseling and I was already a counselor. As for us, you and me, there’s client privilege, which means I never talk about your issues. In fact, I don’t tell anyone who my clients are. What you say about our sessions is up to you—but I won’t mention I’ve met you under these circumstances. I don’t even take notes, in case they’re ever subpoenaed, but you don’t have to think about that—your session with me isn’t court ordered. So. Maybe you’d like to jump in, take a chance. Hear about the spaceship for dessert?”
Rick shook his head. Unbelievable. It was surreal. The guy who was going to help put his head back together thought he’d been abducted by aliens? “Holy Jesus,” he muttered. Jerry just lifted his pale brown eyebrows, waiting.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Rick said. “Bad stuff happens to me and the people who care about me. Started when I was two and my parents died in a car wreck. I bet if we could check back further, my mother probably almost died in childbirth….”
“That a fact? Like you’re bad luck or something?”
“Not like I am. You get mixed up with me, care about me, you’re in for it.”
“And you believe that?”
“I can’t help but believe it. There’s a long history of it.” And Rick explained the details, his voice cold and flat.
A half hour later, Jerry asked, “Tell me about your girl.”
“She’s not my girl anymore. I broke up with her, for her own good.”
“But you still know about her. Tell me some things so I know who you broke up with and how you’re feeling about it.”
He took a breath. Now, this was where the tissues might actually come in handy, if he broke down. “She’s amazing,” he said softly. “We had some of that accidental teenage sex when I was sixteen and she was fourteen. Happened so fast, we didn’t even see it coming. One time. I got her knocked up. She was scared to death, and she was just a kid. But she wanted to have the baby, and she wanted me. Her mother and aunt Connie wanted her to give the baby away, but in the end it was me who couldn’t live with that.”
“How’d you feel about the pregnancy?”
“Are you kidding? I wanted to disappear. Run for my life.”
“Did you?”
“I couldn’t do that to her. I stuck with her. I knew even way back then I loved that girl. It was totally nuts to love someone at that age, but I did. And we were going to find a way to keep that baby. My grandma and Jack, they were on board to help if they could. I was willing to do anything. Anything. Work ten jobs, whatever I had to do. I should have known I was no good for her when she got knocked up after one time. But then, just to drive the point home, her baby was born dead.”
Jerry cleared his throat. “I don’t think I missed anything there, Rick. It was also your baby. Correct?”
“I did it to her, though. I put it there, she loved him and took good care of him, and he was born dead.” His voice cracked on the last word.
“Very tough for the two of you,” Jerry said. “Very, very painful. You must have had a great deal of grief.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice filled with both anguish and self-loathing. “And my way of dealing with it was to abandon her. I told her I had to get my head together. I enlisted in the Corps.” He lifted his head, shook off the threat of tears. “She was scared to death of me doing that, plus I was going to be gone a long time, and she needed me. There was a war going on—I knew I’d end up going. And this girl, still just a girl in high school, she said if that’s what I needed to do, she’d stick it out. She’d wait. She’d be faithful, write me every day, and wait. How many fifteen-year-old girls do you know who could get through that? Get knocked up, bury their baby, send their boyfriend off to the Marines, then to war, and wait? I told her I wouldn’t hold her to that, but it was her decision.”
Jerry was silent. And so was Rick, for a little while.
“She missed every high-school thing that came along. While I’m off turning myself into a big man, she’s sitting home alone. She’s so beautiful, you just can’t imagine. And sweet. But she’s not a little girl anymore—she’s gotten so strong.” He let go a laugh. “Because of me. Because I put her through so much, probably. She’d stay home from things like prom and homecoming because she didn’t want any guys who would ask her out to think she was available. She’d stay home and write me letters instead. When I got blown up, she came to Germany, where I was in the hospital. She’d never been on a plane before in her life, and she flew halfway around the frickin’ world to see me, make sure I was alive. And I treated her like crap. Told her she shouldn’t have come.”
Quiet reigned a moment. “Sounds like a wonderful girl,” Jerry finally said. “Devoted. You must have been in a bad place, emotionally, while you were in the hospital. Would that be correct?”
“She just didn’t deserve all that. You know?”
“She made her own choices, Rick. As did you.”
“Yeah,” he said, laughing without humor. “The choices I made were all selfish. The ones she made were all unselfish. All for me.”
“I bet if you asked her, she’d say her choices served her needs. She must have wanted to be a part of your life.”
He shook his head. “No matter how bad it is for her?”
“You so sure it’s bad for her? Sometimes being someone’s partner is fulfilling.”
“I doubt it, Jerry. Not anymore.”
“Hmm?”
“I told her in Germany, she should get on with her life—that I was going to be busy trying to get through rehab. She called, sent me stuff, but I shut her out, hoping she’d just wander off and get a life. Find a guy who could give her stuff, like maybe a future that didn’t hurt all the time. But damn, that girl’s stubborn. She never quit. I wouldn’t take her calls, wouldn’t return her messages, but she just kept at it. When I got back to Virgin River the other night, she came over to my gram’s and asked me to go for a ride with her, to talk. I went, and I tried to talk to her, but once we were parked at the river, I just grabbed her. Like a maniac. I couldn’t stop myself. I tore off her clothes and just did her—just like that. No lovey-dovey stuff. After her jeans were off, I pulled her onto my lap and just plugged her. I practically raped the girl who’s stuck by me through everything. And then I told her I couldn’t be part of a couple anymore, that she had to let me go.”
Now Jerry’s silence lengthened, but Rick didn’t fill it for quite a while.
“How impressed are you with me now?” Rick finally asked.
Jerry cleared his throat. “I’d like to ask a couple of questions, if it’s all right with you.”
“Knock yourself out. I’m all out of secrets now.”
He cleared his throat again. “Did you hit her?”
Rick was startled. “Of course not! I wouldn’t hit Liz!”
“Did you hold her down?”
“I told you—I pulled her on top of me. I can’t do anything with this leg.”
“Did she struggle? Try to pull away?”
“No. She let me.”
“Did she ask you not to?”
He shook his head. “She’d do anything for me. But that’s no excuse for what I did to her.”
“Did she say anything like, no? Or, please don’t? Or, stop?”
“I told you, she let me! That makes it worse!”
“Afterward, did she say you hurt her?”
“No,” he said weakly. “She said I’d seemed to be in a hurry. And it was okay that it wasn’t good for her.”
“Did she cry or complain that she’d tried to get through to you or—”
“I told you. She went along with it. I was rough and only thinking about myself. I was getting off! I was out of my mind. Liz is not made for that! She’s a good, sweet, giving person! I don’t want her giving in to someone like that. Like me.”
Jerry smiled patiently and watched as Rick wiped angrily at his eyes, refusing to let himself cry.
“I think,” Jerry said, “that sex will be better for both of you if you’re conscious of each other’s needs and desires. People in the throes of passion sometimes get a little selfish. Take advantage. And in the end, if they’re two people who care about each other, it’s not entirely satisfying. It sounds like maybe it wasn’t all that satisfying to you.”
Rick narrowed his eyes meanly. “I got off. She didn’t.”
“And it also happens, with couples, that people give rather than take sometimes. If one partner is particularly needy and the other doesn’t feel at risk—”
