Without You Here (24 page)

And then she hugged him. He hugged her back with one arm and a pat on the back. She kissed him on the cheek and then quickly turned towards the kitchen, looking for Blake. There were tears in her eyes, but when she saw him, she smiled and waved. Then she turned and headed for the door.

Blake caught up with her. "Hey," he said, taking her by the arm and turning her to face him. "Stay for dinner."

Her eyes darted to Wyatt who was sitting on the edge of his chair, leaning forward with his head in his hands. Her expression was so wistful and full of pain that Blake felt his chest tighten for her. She looked back at him and that smile forced it's way through the tears. "I need to get home. But it means so much that you asked me."

She turned, before he could argue, and was out the door and hurrying to her car. He caught up with her again and this time she refused to look at him. She was holding her breath and a moment later, he knew why. She was crying. He pulled her into his arms and she sobbed against his chest.

"Ettie, just stay. Help him."

She shook her head. "Best thing I can do for him is walk away," she said. And then sobbed harder.

"How is adding heartbreak to the mix of emotions supposed to be helpful to him? To either of you?"

She pushed back and dashed her hands over her eyes. She glanced back towards the house, her longing evident in her eyes. "He'll just distract himself with me. He won't deal with his issues. And I don't want that for me or for him."

Blake gaped at her. It was so far from the impulsive Ettie he knew. That she was looking at the bigger picture instead of just what she wanted in the moment made him feel proud. He smiled and nodded. "I guess you know what's best."

She smiled back, sadly. "Maybe he'll still want me when he's on the other side of this. That would be really great, actually, because I don't think I'll ever meet anyone half so perfect for me as him." With this, her face screwed up and another volley of tears were shed, this time into her hands. Blake rubbed her upper arms until she'd calmed. Then she said goodbye and left.

Blake went back inside. Wyatt was at the table with coffee, now, and a dead look in his eyes. Stan and Jesse were on either side of him, talking to each other, trying to include him. Blake went and sat across from Wyatt. "Dad," he said.

Wyatt lifted his eyes to Blake.

"Are you okay?"

Wyatt gave him a blank look that said it was a stupid question.

"I just want to know how much of your misery is over Ettie and how much is over other things."

Wyatt dropped his head back in frustration. "I don't know. Does it really matter?"

"It's just that I want you to know you can relieve yourself of any stress you're feeling where I'm concerned. It doesn't bother me if you decide to go after her."

Wyatt met his gaze again. There was still nothing there. "Thanks."

Blake sighed and leaned back. He guessed he wasn't going to be getting any more information out of his father today. Well at least it was done. He'd be getting help and maybe in a week or two he'd be able to have a conversation with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Wyatt sat in the waiting room of the good doctor's office, tapping his thumbs on the arm of his chair. Next to his mother. Feeling like no kind of a man at all. He leaned his head back against the wall. He lolled it to the side to look at her. "Are you going to be holding my hand when we cross the street, now?"

She matched his stare.

"Maybe start buying me those little Flintstones vitamins?"

She still didn't answer.

"Tuck me in at night with a story?"

She finally laughed and shook her head. "Stop being such a baby. You're not getting a shot."

"I'd rather get a shot."

"You would not," she said. "I never did see a boy make such a fuss over a little pin-prick. Even passed out."

"Yeah, well, that should tell you how much I don't want to do this."

She shrugged. "Tough luck."

This made him laugh. "Tough luck? You've been living with that old man too long. Tough luck," he muttered. His mother had always been the soft one and tried her best to reason with her children before turning to corporal punishment. Which had always been an inevitability with Wyatt. He'd been her difficult child. Only Amberlee could tame him.

A woman came out of the inner office, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Wyatt shook his head in disgust.

"You can go on in, Mr. Jackson," said the receptionist.

Wyatt stood and realized Liza hadn't stood with him. "You coming?" he asked.

"Of course not. I'm just here to make sure you actually walk in that door and stay for an hour."

Figured. He was kind of counting on her to do the talking. Now there was going to be long, uncomfortable silence when he didn't answer the doctor’s questions. He went in to a room where there were two sofas facing each other with a coffee table in between, and a couple of armchairs at either end. Dr. Richards stood to shake his hand. He was a clean-cut, fit, graying man. Probably a nice guy. But right now Wyatt felt completely threatened.

"Have a seat," the doctor said.

Wyatt sat on the couch opposite. He rested his hands on his thighs and tapped his thumbs to the rhythm of the George Strait song he had stuck in his head.

"So, Wyatt. I dated your sister-in-law back in college, did you know that?"

He didn’t. But he didn't want to seem interested. So he just shrugged as though he already knew it.

"She sure was hung up on some farmer back home. I guess she made the right choice, though. Worked out anyway. I got my Rebekah out of the deal."

If this was how it was going to go, Wyatt figured he could survive it. The doc seemed to be doing all the talking.

"She's an amazing woman. A breast cancer survivor, actually."

This caused a spark of interest in Wyatt's mind somewhere. He didn't really notice it happening. He just responded automatically. "That's a hell of a battle."

Dr. Richards nodded. "It really is. And so heart-breaking at times. I can't imagine losing her."

"But she's kicked it? She's good?"

"Yeah. Four years in remission. You know, you just pray it'll last and enjoy every day the best you can. Don't take anything for granted."

Wyatt nodded. "I was always trying to help Amberlee live in the moment. I see other people who are sick...dying...and they're doing everything they can to make the most of what life they have left. We're none of us guaranteed a tomorrow, after all."

"Did she have a hard time doing that? Living in the moment?"

Wyatt hated to remember her that way. But there was no sense denying it. He'd always bragged to people that Amberlee was strong. A woman warrior. Brave and full of life. But that wasn't really how it had been. "She...gave up. Early. There were a lot of times in her life when she was unhappy. And when the cancer came back that second time, she just...quit. I mean, it was definitely aggressive. It was a death sentence. But she didn't fight at all. She just...." He suddenly felt choked up. Tears bit at his eyes, but he swallowed them back.

"How did it make you feel, her giving up like that?"

Wyatt shook his head, trying to push back what was fighting to get out. And then he let go. He laughed in frustration. "Fucking angry, that's how. I devoted all my energy to trying to make her last days good. And I have no right to be mad, but she just...she didn't give anything back to me. She didn't assure me that she loved me. That our marriage together had been satisfying. That we would see each other again someday. She didn't say any of that to me."

The doctor stayed silent.

It was just as well. Wyatt was caught up in his own thoughts. "I feel like shit because she was in so much pain. What right do I have to be angry? And maybe none of the things I wanted to hear were true. Maybe she didn't love me. Maybe our marriage was miserable. Maybe we won't see each other again. But she could have lied. It would have been damn decent of her just to lie to me. Tell me I didn't completely fail her. Tell me I hadn't wasted twenty years of my life trying to be a good husband to her."

"Is that how you feel? That your marriage was a waste of time?"

"Of course not. Not for me. I was crazy about Amberlee. She could have treated me a lot worse and I wouldn't have left. I'm just afraid that it was a waste of time for her."

"Unfortunately there's no way to know that, is there?"

Wyatt shook his head. He settled back into the sofa and stared at the coffee table. He'd forgotten all about the fact that he was talking to a shrink, and that he didn't want to be here.

"But you say you don't feel like your time was wasted?"

"Of course not," he said, automatically.

The doc didn't say anything.

The silence made Wyatt think about his answer. Made him consider that maybe it wasn't true. Or not completely. He looked the doc in the eye for the first time. "I never thought about leaving my wife. Never. And that's the truth. But sometimes...it just felt...it felt like a lot of work for not much reward."

"Sometimes the person you fall in love with isn't the best person to spend your life with."

"Amberlee was my soul mate," Wyatt said. He said it defensively. It angered him that this guy would suggest she wasn't right for him.

The doc studied him. "She's been gone...?"

"A little over two years."

"And how are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

Doc didn't say anything.

Wyatt sighed. "They all say I'm not fine. They say I'm different. But I don't see how I'm supposed to be the same. Being married to her changed me. Losing her changed me. So, I don't know how this...," he gestured back and forth between Dr. Richards and him, "...is supposed to help me."

"What is it you want help with?"

"I don't want help with anything. I just want to be left alone. I've got my farm to work. And...and...." he realized he didn't have anything else to live for. There was Blake. But Blake didn't need him anymore. Nobody needed him. He didn't matter, really. Not in the big scheme of things. "Actually, Dad hired on another hand. Guess I don't really have to work the farm. Could just...go away."

"Is that what you want? To go away?"

This time Wyatt didn't answer.

"What is it you do want?"

He wasn't sure he could answer that.

"Do you know what you want, Wyatt?"

Wyatt stared blankly at the coffee table. "I...."

There was silence for a long time.

Finally Wyatt looked up. He still had no words.

Dr. Richards smiled sympathetically. "It's been a long time since you've thought about what you wanted, hasn't it?"

Wyatt still couldn't answer.

"Let's make that your homework for next week."

Wyatt winced. "Could you not call it that?"

The doc laughed. "Sure. I'll just say, I'd like you to have an answer to that question when you come back next week, okay?"

Wyatt blew out a breath. "I'll try."

"Good. Now. Let's talk about the possibility of depression. I've been warned that you don't like that word either. That you're resistant to the idea. But try to answer objectively so I can make a good diagnosis."

Wyatt groaned and answered a series of questions while the doctor scribbled down notes. He was relieved when the questions ended. The doctor sat back in his chair and read over his notes. "Are you aware that the typical grieving period is a maximum of six months?"

Wyatt shrugged.

"When a grieving person gets...stuck...in the emotional distress of grief for six months or more, we call it complicated grief, or prolonged grief disorder."

Wyatt dropped his head back. "That sounds even more pansy than depression."

"I'm sorry that you consider this a weakness. But that's all the more reason to overcome it, right?"

"Let me ask you this, doc," Wyatt said, leaning forward. "You get many men in here?"

Dr. Richards answered carefully. "I get more women, than men. But I do have male patients."

"Okay...but when you look at another man who can't handle his own problems, don't you lose respect for him?"

"Of course not."

"See, this feels like admitting defeat to me. It's like, my self-respect is the only thing I have left. And coming here was just my last failure. Now I'm nothing. I was a widower. A bad husband. A bad father. But at least I was a man. At least I had that. Now that's gone and now what?" He leaned back and waited.

The doc stared at him for a long moment. And then he burst into laughter. He shook his head and jotted down a note. "I'll hold off recommending the support group, then."

Wyatt almost grinned. "I appreciate that."

Dr. Richards scribbled something on a pad, ripped off a piece of paper, and handed it to Wyatt. "Try to refrain from judging yourself for a couple of weeks. Give this medication a chance to kick in and see how you like it, okay? Give therapy a month. If you still feel like a sell-out, we'll discontinue. How 'bout it?"

"Guess I don't have much choice. Talking to a shrink and taking happy pills. I think Amberlee would be ashamed of me."

"Would you have been ashamed of her, had she sought help?"

He didn't answer.

"But it would have been okay for her. Because she's a woman. Right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

Dr. Richards shook his head. "We'll get that attitude fixed right up."

Wyatt snorted and rolled his eyes.

Liza received him like a nervous mother at the principal's office. "How did it go?" she asked once they were in the truck driving home.

"Fine," he said.

She sighed. He drove. He'd talk to the damn doctor, if that was what everyone wanted. Truth be told, it hadn't been that bad. Maybe even felt a little good to say some things he hadn't dared to ever say before. But he sure as hell wasn't going to go home and tell his mom all about it. There was pathetic and there was more pathetic, and he'd given up all the self-respect he could manage for the day.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It was Wyatt's third session when he finally started to feel better. "Do I have to stay on these pills forever, Doc?" he asked, as soon as he entered the office and sat down.