Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(45)

I figured this talk was coming. Best to just get it over with.

I gave her a “go-ahead-though-I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it” kind of nod.

“I must admit that I’ve never had anything like that happen to me. I’ve been roughed up a time or two, o’ course, but that’s a different kind of hurt--one that was more accepted in my time, unfortunately.” She swatted the memory away. “As I was saying, I have not been in your shoes. I have, however, been there for a friend that was in a worse situation. Much worse if I may be so blunt. So I do feel like I have some idea of the feelings and circumstances that this type of...trauma inspires.”

She paused, still looking at me intently. I analyzed my glass.

“You seem like a strong girl,” she went on. “but even a strong girl can get weighed down by dark feelings and black memories. I don’t want that for you so young in life.”

I sighed, my patience exhausted. “Gladis, I am not sure what Tom told you, but nothing actually happened. It might have, but didn’t.”

Her smile was understanding. “I know, dear. I know that. I had Dr. Collins come in last night to look over you. No physical, permanent damage. You did what many women could not—you fought back the demons and granted your own salvation. Now, I know you aren’t a religious girl, but I would call that opening up and letting God direct your hand. Whatever you call it, you fought back...and won!”

Oh good, an eighty-year-old cheerleader.

“I can see you are the type to hold it all in," Gladis relentlessly continued, "but trust me, it will fester. It will live in your soul and fester. I saw it happen. So...I took the liberty of asking a trusted friend to be your guidance.”

“Gladis, you’re talking in riddles.” I shook my head. Time to go home. Bacon wasn’t worth this torture.

“I am trying to get this out without losing your trust or friendship.” Her voice took on a gentle quality. “I had a daughter—I know to tread lightly in these matters.”

My brain stuttered on the word had. She continued talking before I could properly digest.

”I asked Dr. George to be your shoulder. He is a psychiatrist.” The last sentence came out in a rush, which was rare for her slow drawl. She sunk back, apprehensive. She was waiting for my tantrum.

I just sighed. I had never been to a shrink, but many of my friends had, and they swore those doctors were essential. L.A. lifestyle and all that. I would have tried one but they were expensive and I didn’t have medical or money. Or much to talk about.

“That’s fine, Gladis. I know you’re trying to help. If you think it best I’ll talk to him. But not today. Today I want to eat food and veg out and watch T.V. Or read. Or daydream, maybe.”

Gladis smiled big and leaned toward me. “Good girl! C’mon, let’s go eat before Dr. George eats it all. One day I’ll tell you all about the story of George and I!”

Ew.

Later that day I was sitting in the Rec. Room, as Gladis called it, watching Gladiator on the giant TV with surround sound. Well, I was actually just watching Russell Crowe—same difference.

My mind kept slipping to my dreams of William. As my groin started to tingle, my memories would slip sideways to the real William. Apollo. Times like when we were by the trailer and his eyes reached into my soul and clutched my heart. Or the thrill that went through me when I saw him for the first time by the bull pen. Or the soft baritone of his voice when he was holding me after the Dusty fiasco.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

What the…!

“Gladis! You scared the shit out of me!”

She laughed. “Sorry, honey. I wasn’t quiet coming in. You were so lost in thought, with such a sublime expression on your face, that I thought I would give you a moment before I ruined it. Who is he?”

I played dumb. “Who is who?”

She smiled with the familiar twinkle in her eyes. “You know who.”

I sighed and repositioned on the couch. “William Davies.”

Her expression suddenly faltered and her twinkle dulled. My heart sank.

“Ah,” was all she said before she positioned a little more deeply into the couch cushions.

“Bad choice?”

“Well... bad choice in terms of availability. Great choice in terms of a good looking, well-groomed, great character and a good-hearted young man. He is a catch, girlie. A great catch, most would say. Which is why the availability takes a fall. Every single girl that has heard of him, and some that aren’t single, are vying for his attention.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I know. I was told not to bother. And I haven’t really. I‘ve just played the damsel in distress, mostly. Not by choice! Just sort of happened. And he was always there to just...I don’t know, try to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

“Yes. He would do that. He really is a fine-standing young man. His parents did him good. Just be careful of your heart, dearie.” She smiled kindly and reached to pat me on the knee.

I knew that pat. That “it sucks, but you have to move on” pat. I knew all this. Someone that gorgeous, that on top of his game, that...perfect, would be unreachable. Probably even for beautiful Lump, or witty Flem. One always had memories, though. And dreams.

Gladis was looking at me like she kicked a puppy. I shrugged and smirked. In a Southern accent I said, “He don’t know what he’s missin’ now do he?”