The Family Gathering (Sullivan's Crossing #3)(79)

“What do you feel?” Cal asked.

“I feel a little too calm. I guess that’s the medication. The one thing I fear the most,” she said, “is that everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

“Anxiety isn’t crazy,” Cal said. “As Maggie explains it, it’s a chemistry thing—some people’s serotonin levels are wacky and that can cause depression or anxiety or any number of things. So there are medications to manage that.”

“I don’t have much anxiety, but I now have depression,” she said.

“There’s a process,” Bob said. “Sedona is going to come home, see a psychiatrist for her medication and a therapist for her counseling. It’s not going to be a quick cure—she has spent way too long fighting her fears. She needs a rest.”

“You look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you,” Dakota said. “But different. I don’t know what’s different.”

“This is how you look when you realize you aren’t losing your mind. And I haven’t had a panic attack in quite a while. They’re terrible.”

“I’m sure they’re terrible to have,” Bob said. “They’re also terrible to see. More than once, I found her curled up in a corner, sweating, crying, talking to herself.”

“I went to a doctor several years ago, and after telling him about Jed and answering some questions, he said I was obviously schizophrenic. He put me on a heavy medication and I got worse. I could hardly get out of bed and then I was hallucinating.”

“That set us back about five years,” Bob said. “And everyone jokes about OCD but the real thing is no joking matter. Half the time Sedona couldn’t sleep because of anxiety and the rest of the time it was because canned goods that weren’t alphabetized were dancing in her head.”

“Everything had to be my routine or I couldn’t function. I’ve never been good with change...”

They talked for a while about her plans. Sedona and Bob were going to fly home the next day. The talk of separation was off the table for the time being, but Sedona said she understood that if she stopped taking her meds or attending therapy sessions, Bob wasn’t making any promises.

“But we’re going to communicate better,” Sedona said. “I can’t risk staying with a bad practitioner just to keep the peace when the outcome could be worse.”

After an hour or so, Bob left to get some sandwiches.

“Cal, I owe you for putting your foot down and confronting me. At the time I hated you, but I’m glad you called Bob. And, Dakota, I still can’t believe you left your job and devoted yourself to searching for me. I don’t know what might’ve become of me if you hadn’t done that.”

“You must have been so scared,” Dakota said. “I couldn’t sleep at night, thinking of you living in a box under a bridge.”

She laughed. “With all my scraps alphabetized? It’s more likely you’d have found me hiding in some store or warehouse, curled up in a sweaty ball, after I’d organized everything.”

“It’s good you’re doing better,” Dakota said.

“We’ll see how much better I am when I’ve been home awhile. I’m afraid I’ve hurt my family.”

“Listen, you did your best. You had issues, but you tried. Sometimes you have to accept nobody’s perfect,” Dakota said.

“Even me?” she asked with a sly smile.

“Sedona, the problem isn’t that perfectionists are hard on themselves,” Cal said. “They’re hard on the people around them. When I talked to Bob he said he’d be happy to hang all the towels with a level and alphabetize the canned goods, but whatever was happening to you was much more serious than that. He was terrified. He loves you.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I hope he can forgive me.”

Dakota was quiet a moment. “For better or worse,” he finally said. “Most couples have plenty of both.”

*

Connie took some personal time from his shift to go home. With any luck Sam would be napping and he could have a serious talk with Sierra. But he found them on the floor together, playing.

“Aw, you hoped to hit naptime,” she said with a sly smile.

“I did, but not for boom boom. I want to talk to you.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked, pulling Sam closer, into the little hollow made when she sat cross-legged.

“Yes, Sierra, something is wrong. You’ve been a little off for about a month. You might be anemic. Or maybe you have some infection or something that just isn’t taking hold. Or maybe it’s something scary, like fatigue syndrome. I don’t have a clue. I started looking on the internet—there are about a hundred possibilities. But we’re done screwing around with this. I made you an appointment with Dr. Culver. She’s at the urgent care clinic down the road from the firehouse. She’s new around here and really nice—you’ll like her. She’s going to draw some blood, get some lab work, see if she can figure out what’s going on. Hell, you could have some heart infection or kidney disease making you weak and tired.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were so worried.”

“I’m not exactly frantic, but I suggested a checkup about fifty times and you didn’t do anything. So I made you an appointment. Tomorrow, when I’m off. I’ll take care of Sam.”