Hunted, page 25
Beth stilled. “Away?”
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “I have a problem with alcohol. I have to do something about that.”
She swallowed, her fingers tightening around his. “I know. When?”
“You aren’t surprised?”
“No, but I’m… would proud be inappropriate? I don’t want you to go away, but I understand why you need to. I honestly didn’t expect you to volunteer, however.” She wrinkled her nose at him.
He huffed. “I don’t have a lot of choice. I can’t have the life I want with you and continue battling every day to not give in to the urge to lose myself permanently at the bottom of a bottle. If I put this off much longer, the drinking’s going to win.” He smiled sadly. “That’s one of the perks of being a realist. I know what lies ahead.”
“You want a life with me, huh?”
“Yes, I do.” He brushed at her bangs, then traced her ear. “What do you think about that?”
She scooted up so that she was close enough to easily kiss him, then sighed. “I think that sounds nice. You have my full support, you know. I’ll be here—or there, if I need to be. Where are you planning to go?”
“Nashville, so not that far in terms of a car trip. I talked to Wyatt a little earlier. He’s working on that end of things.” He told her about the sheriff’s generosity. “That stings a bit.”
“I’m sure it does. I’m also sure he’s as worried as a father would be. Did he know you were drinking that much?”
“He knew some of it.” Ethan rubbed his hand down her arm. “I promised you that I’d not let go.”
“And you aren’t,” she whispered, laying her hand over his heart. “You’re holding tight in here. Go do this; get to the place you need to be. Fight this demon and win, then come home to me.”
“I will.” The words were a vow, and he took them willingly. “I love you, you know.”
Beth smiled. “I know. I love you too.”
For now, he would put aside thoughts of rehab, focusing instead on being with her. The battle still to come would be uphill, but it would be worth it, he told himself as she snuggled into him. It had to happen in order for them to have a future, and that was what he had to keep his sights on.
Chapter 47
Over the next few weeks, Beth struggled harder physically and mentally than she ever had before. She’d started physical therapy and was going three days a week, but it took everything in her to drag herself out of bed, go to the appointments, and come home.
She was staying with her parents still, living in their guest room downstairs. She’d not been able to face going back to her apartment for more than a few minutes, and the emotions during that brief visit had been so intense that they’d nearly brought her to her knees.
Without Ethan, she couldn’t find the motivation to give a damn about anything. She ate enough in the evenings to keep her mother from worrying to death, but the rest of the time, she stayed in bed or on the couch in the sunroom, staring through the glass at nothing.
He’d been gone two weeks, and they’d not spoken. The facility he was at had a “no contact” rule, and in addition to holding phone calls, they were holding his mail until he got through the first phase. With any luck, when he got to the second phrase tomorrow, he’d have a stack of mail waiting for him. Beth had certainly written him enough letters. Probably too many, but she’d missed him so much she’d not been able to help herself.
She was hoping for a stack of mail herself tomorrow as the letters he’d written during his stay were supposed to have been mailed Friday. If it didn’t come through, she feared she might well fall apart.
When Chase came into the sunroom after Sunday dinner and sat beside her, not speaking, she glanced at him. She was mildly curious but didn’t ask him what was going on. She and Sampson were playing checkers. Richard followed Chase and stopped beside her grandfather’s chair to watch the end of the game.
“Heard the front door slam,” Sampson said. “Everything okay?”
“Jackie needed some air. When you’re finished here, can I get your opinion on something?” Richard asked.
Sampson glanced up and nodded. “We’ve only got a few moves left here, and we’ll be done. This young lady has me backed into a corner again.” He winked at Beth, who smiled half-heartedly. When they were done a couple of minutes later, he got to his feet and turned to Richard. “Lead the way. What is it you need to discuss?”
“This and that.”
As the men left the sunroom, Beth sensed her opportunity for escape and stood.
Chase stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’d like to talk to you.”
She stiffened. “Can’t it wait? I’m very tired.” She gave him a look that was full of false regret.
“No, this won’t wait. Sit back down. Please.” When she didn’t comply, he continued in a controlled voice, “If you don’t sit down, I will tie you to that chair Pop just left. One way or another, you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”
Her jaw dropped, and an angry heat crawled up her cheeks. “Who the hell died and left you in charge?”
He nodded toward the chair again. With a furious glare, she defiantly sat on the couch opposite him, refusing to even look at the chair he’d indicated.
Arms folded, she stared at the fireplace. “What do you want?”
“I want you to admit that you need help dealing with this, and I want you to get it,” he told her bluntly. Her gaze shot to his face, and she started to speak, but he stopped her. “I want you to start eating whether the food is appealing or not, and I want my sister back. One thing I learned when Kiely died was that there’s a difference between honest grieving and giving up. One’s normal, healthy even. The other isn’t.” He waited as she absorbed his words.
“So you’re trying to tell me that I’ve been feeling sorry for myself?” She dropped her gaze to her lap. She thought she’d been hiding her turmoil better.
“Not at all. I’m telling you that you need help. You can’t see it from where you’re at right now, but the rest of us can. You’re sinking into a dangerous depression. I’m asking you to trust us.”
She raised her chin. “So what does ‘everyone’ think I should do?”
“We’d like you to go talk to a counselor, a therapist here in Leroy. Sharon Jenkins. Her offices are up by the hospital in one of those renovated houses.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “I’ve made an appointment for you at ten o’clock.”
Beth snorted and rolled her eyes. She read the information on the card. “You were awfully sure of yourself.” She didn’t bother hiding the resentment in her tone.
“No, not really. I figured this would go one of two ways. Either you would agree to go, or you’d tell me to go to hell.”
“I could still tell you to go to hell. I haven’t agreed to anything. What would you do then? Hog-tie me and take me in?” She met his gaze with arrogance, almost hoping he would try so she could fight him.
He shrugged. “If you say no, then I’ll get the rest of the family to come in here and I’ll tell them that you refuse to get help. I’ll let you watch Mom’s face when she hears that. How do you think this is affecting her? After what she went through with Grandma, watching you fade away has to be her worst nightmare.”
That hit a nerve, and guilt warred with her anger. Grace Olman, their maternal grandmother, had battled mental illness for most of Jackie’s childhood, the death of her only son in Vietnam too harsh a blow. Watching her mother struggle and ultimately lose that battle had left deep scars on Jackie.
After a minute, she relented. “Fine, I’ll go talk to the counselor if it’ll get you off my back. Am I free to go now?”
Chase nodded, and she shot out of the sunroom as though pursued by the hounds of hell, her heart stinging from the blow of what felt like a betrayal.
When she got up Monday morning, Sampson was in the kitchen, waiting on her. “Good morning, sweetheart. I made some coffee, strong like you prefer, and I’ll drive you into town as soon as you’re ready.”
She stared at him, full of resentment at having been manipulated. “I should have known they’d send you.”
He chuckled. “I volunteered, girly. Want to take me on? Want to bet who’d win that fight?”
Crossing her arms, she shoved back against the tears that threatened. “Poppy, I don’t want this.”
“I know you don’t, Elizabeth, just like I know you’ll do it anyhow out of love.” Folding her into a hug, he sighed. “You’re really going to have to trust us on this. It won’t be easy, and it’ll probably be the hardest thing you’ve ever endured, even harder than surviving the last few weeks. But when you come out on the other side, you’ll have life again. You’ll be able to go forward.”
So she went.
By the time the first week was over, she was a mess. But she’d also learned some things. Firstly, Sharon was a nice lady, and Beth thought that in any other life, they’d have been fast friends. Beth was finally getting a chance to express her feelings to someone for whom she didn’t have to be positive and cheerful. The sheer relief she felt at that freedom was indescribable.
Something Sharon had said to her during their first meeting had resonated so strongly Beth kept thinking of it, almost like a mantra of sorts.
“Right now, you’re still reeling, still reacting to what happened to you. That’s perfectly normal. If you’ll pardon the phrase, you have shots coming at you from all directions—emotionally, physically, perhaps even spiritually. Until you can get to a place mentally where you can defend yourself from those shots, you aren’t going to be able to make sense of everything that’s happened.
“Why don’t we take it one thing at a time, starting with the smaller traumas, and go from there? If you can deal with the little things, you can deal with the big things.”
The second thing Beth had learned, something she was seeing every time she went to therapy—either physical or psychological—was that she could hardly stomach being in town. The memories, the looks and stares, the speculation she felt directed toward her—it was all too much weight to bear.
She told Sharon so during their fourth meeting, a week after their first. “I used to love this town, this county. Now, all I see when I look around are people laughing at me, talking about me, whether they’re doing it or not. I can’t stand the pressure. Dealing with being shot, being hunted down, losing Ethan—even though he’ll probably come home and we’ll be fine, but who knows? I am full of self-doubt these days, and I can’t believe anything’s going to end well. Losing the potential for a baby?” She laughed soggily. “I can’t stand to be here. I feel like I’m going mad trying to pretend I’m happy here.”
Sharon handed her a box of tissues. “Then maybe it’s time to stop pretending.” She let Beth regain some of her composure. “You understand why Ethan had to leave.”
Beth nodded. “Absolutely. But he wanted me when he was broken. What if he doesn’t want me now that I’m the one who’s broken?”
“You aren’t broken. Dented maybe,” Sharon said with a smile, “but you’re not broken. With that said, as much as I’d like to be the one to help you through this, I’m going to recommend that you consider going to an inpatient program, one structured for PTSD sufferers.
“I’m not fond of telling people to run from their demons, but I think the only way you’re going to get ahead of your demons so you can adequately fight them is to get away from some of the pressure. You can’t heal a wound if you’re continually ripping off the scab.”
Beth looked down at the tissue she was twisting into oblivion. “For how long? Where would I go?”
“I suspect you know the answer to ‘how long’—as long as it takes. As to the where, there are a couple of facilities I like. One’s in Tampa, and the other’s in Santa Fe, New Mexico. That one’s usually a little easier to get into, but it’s just as good as the one in Tampa. Tampa’s more popular because of its location.”
Before the shooting, the very thought of leaving Leroy would have been abhorrent to Beth. Now? “How would I go about doing that, getting into one of them?”
“I’d make the calls, set up the intake. Keep in mind the programs are voluntary. You don’t have substance abuse issues to contend with, which is a huge blessing. And if it doesn’t fit you, you can leave. But you need more than I can give you, and I do think you need to get away from here.”
Beth nodded. “That sounds like exactly the refuge I want right now. I want to say sign me up, no further questions asked. But what about Ethan?”
Sharon’s look was sympathetic. “I can reach out to his counselor in Nashville and let them know what’s going on. They may recommend the two of you have a face-to-face meeting before you go to the facility, or they may suggest that you don’t have any contact at all.”
The idea of being unable to see him stabbed her heart, but at this point, Beth was ready to break if something didn’t give and soon. “I don’t have a preference as to which facility. Either location is fine with me. I don’t even care how much it costs. I have some money from a trust fund my grandmother set up before she died that I can use if insurance won’t pay. If I have to beg, borrow, or steal, I’ll do it. I can’t stay here.” The decision made, she slumped in her chair. “I don’t think I can even drive home.”
“Who do you need to call?”
Beth considered her options. “Chase. Hopefully he isn’t in court. If he is, I’ll call Mom.”
But she hoped her brother was available. She was going to lean on him, ask for his help in telling the family. She didn’t expect everyone to be pleased, and she wasn’t strong enough to handle their reactions on her own, no matter how much admitting that dinged her pride.
Chapter 48
Ethan had just finished breakfast Wednesday morning and was heading into group therapy when his primary counselor, Lloyd, pulled him aside.
“I need a few minutes,” Lloyd said.
“Okay, sure. What’s up?”
Lloyd led him to the sunny atrium, which was deserted this time of morning. “How would you feel about some visitors later today?”
Stunned, Ethan stared at the man he’d come to respect. “What happened to fourth-week visitors only? Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Is it Beth?”
Lloyd grimaced. “I’m willing to make an exception in this case. Yes, it’d be Beth and someone from her family. She’s struggling with everything that’s happened.”
Ethan took the words like a blow. “But she’s so optimistic in her letters… she’s in counseling. What’s going on?” He rubbed his chest, anguished at the thought of her being in such turmoil that Lloyd would let her see him. “Of course I want to see her.”
“I’ll let them know. To answer your question, she is in counseling, but isn’t enough. She’s on her way this evening to Santa Fe, to a facility that specializes in PTSD treatment. If it works out, she’ll probably be there for several weeks.” Lloyd spread his hands. “As to her letters, I imagine she hasn’t wanted to worry you.”
Every single doubt he had about them came rushing in, and Ethan walked to the window. Pressing his hand against the wood casing, he tried to stay calm. “What do you know about the situation?”
“Not much. I spoke with her counselor, and from what she said, what I’ve seen with you, we both think letting you see each other before she leaves for New Mexico is a good idea. It won’t be easy. There may be some repercussions from this. It might even get ugly.”
Over the last few weeks, he’d learned the hard way that the hurdles he’d expected to be effortless often weren’t even close. So upon hearing Lloyd’s warning, he took heed.
“I never expected drying out to be one of the least painful parts of this process,” he said in a low voice, not for the first time. “Considering how hellish that was, that’s saying something about the rest of the treatment.”
“I know.” And he did—Lloyd was a recovering alcoholic himself. “We’ll schedule a one-on-one session first thing tomorrow after you’ve had some time to process her visit. Or if you need me sooner, I’ll be here.”
Ethan nodded. “Thanks.”
Not being able to contact his friends and family had been torturous at first, though Ethan understood the reasoning behind the policy. As Lloyd had explained to him his first night there, Ethan’s focus needed to be on getting better, on building the tools he’d need to interact with the people back home.
“Are you sure I’m ready for this?” Ethan asked, watching the sunlight play with the tree branches in the garden outside.
“You’ve made a lot of progress in the last couple of weeks. I don’t feel like this will endanger your sobriety. If I thought that, I’d never have asked you about it, much less agreed to let Beth come here. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it.”
Ethan nodded. “Tell me about this place she’s going. Is it good?”
Lloyd smiled. “It’s one of the best.”
“Will she be safe there?”
“Absolutely. It’s a small campus just outside the city, very peaceful. I’ve been there a few times when we’ve had a client who needed to transfer, and it’s an impressive setup. Very nurturing, very calming. The energy of the place is good.”
That was another thing Ethan had learned to embrace—the concept of good and bad energy. Part of it he knew as instinct. The other part, the part that came into play when analyzing his personal relationships, he’d had to work on. During his fourth week, he was scheduled to have a sit-down with his mother and stepfather, and he wasn’t particularly looking forward to it because of the energy he expected them to bring. It wasn’t that they didn’t love him and support him but more that they’d have to break the pattern of their existing relationships and try to reset things to a better, healthier way of thinking.
