Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (42 page)

drifted off to sleep again, Nick clasped Logan to him and avowed, ―I‘m

happy when I‘m with you, too. Happier than I‘ve ever been before.‖

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AS SOON as Nick walked into the North Hills restaurant, Willow, he

spotted Trudy at a table near the window. An exuberant young waitress

promptly seated him across from her and gave him a menu while

efficiently reciting the specials. After she went off to get Nick a Coke,

he looked around, saying, ―This place is pretty busy for a Monday,

huh?‖

Trudy sipped her ice water before answering, ―There aren‘t too

many nice places to have lunch around here.‖

Nick turned back to face his boss. At least he hoped she was still

his boss. ―Any particular reason you wanted it to be a nice place?

You‘re not trying to soften the blow, are you?‖

He found her response of rolled eyes oddly reassuring, especially

since she followed that up by saying, ―If you‘re asking if you still have

a job, the answer is of course you do. I never took your resignation

seriously. Not for a second.‖

Sighing with relief, Nick asked, ―Then you‘re treating me to

lunch because…?‖

―Because I want to. And if you keep acting so suspicious of my

good will, I might be tempted to withdraw the offer.‖

―Okay, okay,‖ Nick laughed. ―Good to know I could still afford it

if I had to, though.‖

They exchanged little more than idle chitchat as the waitress

brought Nick‘s beverage and took their lunch orders. But after he‘d

asked about the well-being of his clients and Larry, he felt it was high

time to get to the root of this meeting. ―So, come on, Trudy. What‘s

this all about?‖

―I just wanted to see how you were doing. After the funeral, I

mean.‖

―Did you talk to Ciera?‖

―No.‖

―Really?‖

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In the face of Nick‘s skepticism, Trudy finally admitted, ―She e-

mailed me.‖

―Aha, so that‘s what triggered this lunch.‖ When Trudy shrugged

in response, Nick asked, ―You didn‘t have anything to do with her

being there, did you?‖

―No,‖ she said, a slow smile creeping across her face. ―I guess

God really does work in mysterious ways.‖

Ignoring that salvo, Nick said, ―What did her e-mail say that has

you buying me lunch?‖

―She‘s worried about you blaming yourself for Norah‘s death. We

both are.‖

―Maybe you two should worry about Norah, not me.‖

―Pray for the dead but fight like hell for the living.‖

―What?‖ Nick stared open-mouthed at Trudy‘s apparent non

sequitor.

―One of my favorite quotes from Mother Jones.‖ When Nick

sighed in frustration, Trudy explained, ―I can‘t do much for Norah

anymore, but you, I can help. At least I hope so.‖ They were interrupted

by the arrival of their food, but as soon as the waitress left the table, she

continued, ―I‘m more convinced than ever that you need—‖

―Counseling,‖ Nick finished for her. He let Trudy glare at him for

a second before innocently asking, ―Know a good one?‖

It was Trudy‘s turn to be surprised. ―What? Do you mean….‖

―Yeah, I‘m ready. I want to do it.‖

―Wow, I should have treated you to a nice lunch a long time ago.‖

Nick took a bite of his meal, saying, ―The chicken‘s good, but

that wasn‘t what changed my mind. I decided this weekend.‖

―Well… that‘s wonderful news. And to answer your question, I

know of several good people you could work with. When I get back to

the office, I‘ll send you a list.‖ They ate in silence for a second before

Trudy asked, ―Can I ask what happened this weekend that brought

about this sudden change of mind?‖

―I don‘t know. I guess it was… Ciera.‖

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261

―What did she say?‖

―It wasn‘t so much anything she said—though she said some

good stuff, surprisingly enough. It was how glad I was to have her

there, after telling myself—and everyone else—that I had to face

Norah‘s funeral alone.‖ Nick took a sip of Coke in an attempt to

dislodge the lump in his throat before admitting, ―I guess I realized that

maybe I don‘t have to do
everything
myself, handle everything myself,

face everything alone. In fact I feel kind of stupid about how long it

took me to see that.‖

―The lessons of childhood are hard to escape.‖ Nick looked up at

his friend and mentor, seeking clarification. With a gentle smile, she

explained, ―The people you depended on most back then burnt you.

Badly. Your father worst of all.‖

Nick was tempted to tell Trudy about his recent thoughts around

the subject of his dad, but as she went on to say more about some

counselors who might be right for Nick, he felt the moment had passed.

Besides, as he‘d told Logan, he didn‘t have to do it all at once. If he

was really going to start healing that scared, angry child inside of him,

maybe it had to start with baby steps.

He did, however, have something he could offer Trudy in

exchange for lunch. At the next break in the conversation, he asked

with deceptive airiness, ―Guess what I spent the morning doing?‖

Trudy raised one eyebrow, answering with a laugh, ―If you were

with Logan, I really don‘t want any details.‖

―I wasn‘t with Logan,‖ Nick protested in equal good humor. He

sobered slightly as he admitted, ―But I was last night.‖

―I figured,‖ she returned, exuding nonchalance.

―Oh, you‘re always one jump ahead of me.‖

―Not really. I still haven‘t guessed what you were doing this

morning.‖

Nick flicked a slightly sheepish look her way before saying, ―I

started reading your book.‖

―I‘ll be damned,‖ Trudy exhaled.

―I can see you guessed that I never read it before,‖ Nick said.

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―Yeah, I guessed.‖ She nodded and then tilted her head in a

gesture of genuine curiosity. ―So, what did you think?‖

―It‘s good. Well researched and thought out….‖ Nick put his fork

down and leaned forward, his voice earnest as he added, ―I don‘t agree

with everything—‖

Trudy smiled wide, retorting, ―Of course not.‖

―But you make some good points.‖

She raised her glass in a gesture of salute, saying, ―I‘m eager to

hear your rebuttals.‖

―Good. Because you will,‖ Nick promised.

―I never had any doubts.‖

From the warmth in her tone and eyes, Nick knew that Trudy was

offering full confidence in him, personally, as well as his strong

opinions. To let her know he understood, he said, ―Thanks.
For

everything
,‖ with all the quiet emotion he could muster.

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Chapter 18:

Turn on the Light

Fear grows in darkness; if you think there’s a bogeyman around, turn

on the light.

—Dorothy Thompson

AT THREE minutes after six p.m., Nick careened into the asphalt lot in

front of the non-descript office building on Duff Street located in the

Penn Hills section of Pittsburgh. As he parked his Jeep in one of the

back rows, he wished for the umpteenth time that he‘d been able to find

a counselor closer to work. Nick jammed his hands in his pockets,

shielding them from the biting January cold, and sprinted to the front

door, all the while figuring chances were good that his lack of

punctuality wouldn‘t be an issue, anyway.

A few seconds later, he pushed through the heavy glass door of

the corner suite on the third floor and smiled at the receptionist, Debbie

Gill, sitting behind the front desk. ―Is Dr. Kochmann running late

tonight, by any chance?‖ Nick asked.

―Of course,‖ came the tired-sounding reply, though her apparent

exhaustion didn‘t keep Debbie from offering kindly, ―But only by

about ten minutes today.‖

―Not too bad,‖ Nick murmured.

By the time he‘d hung his coat on the rack and checked the

messages on his cell phone, Nick heard Dr. Eric Kochmann‘s office

door opening. He watched as the previous client exchanged a few

parting words with his therapist, glad for the chance to study the man

unobserved. Even after three months of working with Eric, Nick still

found him something of an enigma.

Though his academic reputation and credentials were both

impeccable and impressive, he looked and acted—to Nick‘s way of

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thinking—more like a high school wrestling coach than a counselor

specializing in abuse victims. Eric barely came up to Nick‘s shoulder,

though he out-weighed him by a good thirty or forty pounds. Not that

he was fat, far from it. The man was powerfully built, looking like an

oversized fire hydrant. The resemblance was further enhanced by the

fact that what hair hadn‘t gone white was almost that same color red.

Dr. Kochmann ushered Nick into his office with the usual

apologies and asked him about his week. Nick settled into the

comfortable leather guest chair and chatted extensively about the latest

challenges at ACC. Eric listened attentively as Nick described his latest

client—a woman who had moved into the shelter to escape her husband

with whom she had a see-saw history of abuse and reconciliation.

The stocky therapist offered a raised eyebrow as he observed,

―Sounds like she might be another Norah in the making.‖

Nick still wasn‘t used to speaking of Norah so casually and found

that his counselor‘s relatively mild statement nearly winded him. While

he was scrambling for a response, he looked up to find Eric watching

him expectantly. ―You bastard,‖ Nick huffed. ―You did that on

purpose.‖

―So you admit she‘s still a sore subject?‖

It occurred to Nick, not for the first time, how much better he

liked this sort of conversation from the other side of the desk. Finally

he grumbled, ―Yeah, I guess so,‖ thereby rescinding his claim from last

week that he was ―pretty much over‖ Norah‘s death.

Eric‘s tone softened considerably. ―It‘s okay, healing can be a

slow process. It takes… whatever time it takes. You just have to start

owning up to what you‘re really feeling and
stop
claiming to be where

you wish you already were.‖

―That‘s what you think I do?‖

Rather than flipping the question back at him or extending a

noncommittal answer, Eric bit off each word of his bald reply for

emphasis. ―All—the—goddamn—time.‖

Nick couldn‘t help but laugh and retort, ―You‘re not supposed to

say shit like that to a patient.‖

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

265

―And the fact that you know that allows me, hell, compels me, to

do otherwise.‖

After a second of thought, Nick answered, ―No use showing

another magician how to pull a rabbit out of a hat.‖

―Pre—cisely.‖ Eric nodded before leaning forward and asking

earnestly, ―And how‘s your mom doing?‖

That question, Nick had been prepared for. As evenly as possible,

he answered, ―Not good. She had a stroke. Well, a mini-stroke.‖

―Jesus,‖ Eric exclaimed. ―When did that happen?‖

―Probably a few weeks ago, though it just got diagnosed this

week. One of her doctors thinks she‘s been having these mini-strokes

for a while. This just happened to be the worst episode.‖

Eric‘s face got even graver as he asked, ―Did this doctor tell you

that having multiple TIAs can be a precursor for a major stroke?‖

Nick ran the unfamiliar acronym over in his head a few times

before asking, ―TIA?‖

―Transient Ischemic Attack. It‘s the medical term for a mini-

stroke,‖ Eric clarified.

―Yeah, they told me.‖ Nick swallowed to moisten his dry throat

before continuing. ―I know she‘s in a downward spiral. We‘re making

arrangements to transfer her to the permanent ‗pavilion‘.‖ He snorted

humorlessly. ―Pavilion! What a fucking stupid name. They make it

sound like I‘m sending my mom off to a grand ball, not trying to find

someplace where she can die out of everyone‘s way.‖

Eric shook his head sadly. ―I know how rough this is on you—‖

―Damn it,‖ Nick interjected. ―I wish everyone would stop saying

that!‖

―All right, good point,‖ Eric answered. ―We may not know

exactly how you‘re feel—‖

Interrupting again, Nick shot back bitterly, ―Good thing you

don‘t.‖

Eric regarded him closely for a second before asking, ―Why?

Why is it a good thing?‖

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Nick bit his lip—hard—and raked his hand through his hair.