"Darling?" Jonathan said, holding out his hand.
"Huh?...oh," she answered, slowly sliding out across the seat.
Prisms of color danced on the dew-covered grass beneath their feet. Jennifer's high heels sunk easily into the moist earth, making her feel like the barefoot girl of her youth. She and Jonathan followed the scent of roses and gladiolas up over the rolling hill, until they reached their final destination. Jonathan brought his arm around to rest on her shoulder, holding her closely.
Standing silently, Jennifer's thoughts drifted back through time. She was only vaguely aware of the black throng that had assembled near her. Suddenly, a familiar voice beckoned her back.
"...and we rejoice as He welcomes home His son, Stephen Edwards, to revel in the glory of our Lord ..."
"Amen," the dark mass replied.
Jennifer's lips tried to form the syllables, but nothing came out. Jonathan leaned his head to the side, making contact with Jennifer's wavy, red locks. He felt her sorrowful sigh, as together they watched the casket being lowered into the ground and out of sight.
Pa, Jennifer cried to herself, don't leave me.
As the afternoon sun poured in, Dr. Ann Kelleher sat at her desk looking out the office window. Her next client was late, as usual, but she knew that Mrs. Benton would eventually get there - her agoraphobia often made the trip difficult. Dr. Kelleher actually welcomed the brief respite in her day. It seemed that her caseload was becoming a little unwieldy these days, as her husband often pointed out to her.
Suddenly, her secretary's voice came over the speakerphone.
"Dr. Kelleher, can you take a call?"
"Do you know who it is?" she answered, wondering if it would be a call that would turn into a phone therapy session. She tried to avoid calls like this.
"It's a man by the name of Jonathan Hart. He would like to make an appointment, but wanted to speak with you first."
Dr. Kelleher sighed and thought a moment. She caught her aging reflection in the windowpane and conceded, "All right. Put him through."
"Hello...is this Dr. Kelleher?" Jonathan asked.
"Yes, it is."
"Bob Chase gave me your name. He works for my company - Hart Industries."
"Oh, yes, Dr. Chase is a friend," Dr. Kelleher said. She remembered her old college classmate well, and often wished she too had landed a lucrative consulting position in the corporate world. Still, she really didn’t think it would have made her happy.
"Well, Dr. Chase recommended you. He said you specialize in bereavement counseling," Jonathan said with a certain sadness in his voice. "I was wondering if you would see my wife."
"Your wife? What seems to be the problem?"
"Well, she lost her father six months ago, and she hasn't been the same since. I'm worried about her."
"Hmmm...well, it can be entirely normal to grieve for a year or two following the death of a loved one. Still, if you're worried about her, I think that's reason enough to see her," Dr. Kelleher replied kindly. She could feel Jonathan's concern in his voice. "Does she know you're calling?"
Jonathan hesitated. He never liked doing things behind Jennifer's back, but his duty to protect her overrode his usual code of ethics. "Not yet," he paused. "I'm planning on talking to her tonight."
"All right. I have an opening Thursday evening at six. Can you make it?"
"Yes. We'll be there...thank you," Jonathan said.
For the first time in several months, Jonathan felt a sense of relief. Maybe they could find a way to mend Jennifer's broken heart.
"Jennifer?" Jonathan called out. "I'm home...where are you?"
He wandered through the living room and into the kitchen. The smell of lasagna wafted under his nose.
"Sorry, Mr. H, she's not in here," Max answered, mulling over his tomato sauce. "She's upstairs working."
"Oh...how's she been today?"
Max grimaced, wanting to tell Jonathan that she was back to her old self.
Jonathan leaned against the kitchen counter and frowned. "I'll go talk to her."
"Good luck, Mr. H," he offered sympathetically.
Max wanted her back too.
Jennifer absentmindedly flipped through a stack of papers, trying to remember what she was looking for. She tapped her foot vigorously, as if this would somehow jar loose her memory. Finally, she closed the desk drawer, exasperated. It wasn't the first time her usually ironclad memory had failed her lately. Just yesterday in fact, she had fallen silent during a pitch to her editor about a new story she wanted to write. In mid-thought, she had completely forgotten the focus of her story and uncharacteristically had to excuse herself from the meeting. Later that day, Susan had phoned to see if she was all right.
Thank heavens for Susan, Jennifer thought. As far as editors went, she was a rare find. Susan was a salt-of-the-earth type of woman, who had traveled the world and had seen her fair share. It wasn't unusual for her to send Jennifer to cover a story based on a hunch - a hunch that was almost always accurate. Jennifer trusted her instincts, which made it all the harder when Susan turned down her latest story.
Jonathan quietly entered their bedroom, tapping the door lightly. "Busy?" he asked.
Jennifer smiled sweetly at him. It was a smile that Jonathan had become accustomed to over the past six months - a smile that was wearing on him.
"Not really...I was just looking for...ah, some papers," Jennifer answered, tapping her foot again.
Jonathan sat down next to her. "Max is whipping up a delicious lasagna downstairs. Are you hungry?"
"Not really."
"You haven’t been eating much lately," Jonathan said, frowning. "Are you feeling all right?"
That smile again. "You sound like my father," she said reflexively. Her smile faded.
An awkward silence hung in the room.
"Jennifer," Jonathan began, choosing his words carefully, "I've been worried about you. You seem very preoccupied." He reached over and slipped his fingers through hers, squeezing her hand lightly.
"What do you mean?" she said, surprised.
"Well, it's just that you seem a million miles away."
"Oh, I'm just a little tense with work lately. I had a story I wanted to write, but Susan killed the idea."
Jonathan studied his wife's face. There was something in her eyes that told him she was troubled, and he could not for the life of him figure out how to reach her.
"Darling...will you do something important for me?"
"Of course," she said, perplexed. "What is it?"
"Will you come with me to see a psychologist?" Jonathan finally asked, not knowing how his wife would react.
"A psychologist?"
Jonathan nodded and looked at her seriously.
"You think I need to see a psychologist?" she asked, baffled.
"Please..." he implored gently.
Jennifer paused and then nodded her head slowly. "Okay."
Jonathan knew that something inside of her must have known he was right.
Max brought brandies into the living room later that evening, happy to see Mrs. H relaxing by the fire. He wasn't sure when he began to realize something wasn't quite right with her - perhaps it was when Stephen Edwards' personal belongings had been shipped to them - or maybe it had been happening slowly over time. But, whatever the case, both he and Mr. H knew that Jennifer had not dealt with her father's death.
The day that the boxes arrived stood out clearly in Max's mind. Jennifer had been on her way out, when the UPS truck pulled up. She had opened one of the boxes, peered inside and then closed it tightly. Since then, the boxes remained in the basement unopened.
"Here you go, Mrs. H," he said, handing her a brandy. She looked up at him fondly, content to be in Jonathan's arms, and accepted the drink.
Jonathan had also relaxed considerably. He knew that getting his wife to agree to see Dr. Kelleher was a big hurdle. And tonight, she seemed a little more relaxed in his arms, although still preoccupied.
"Goodnight you two," Max said, smiling broadly and turning to leave.
Jonathan nuzzled his nose into Jennifer's wavy tresses and took in the hint of orchids hiding within. "Mmmm," he moaned softly. "Do you know how much I love you?"
Jennifer's face broke into a plastic smile, but he didn't care. The feel of her body comforted him. "Do you want to go upstairs?" he whispered hopefully into her ear.
"Okay," she smiled.
Her weary, unconvincing response did not dissuade him. He wanted to make love to her tonight. He wanted to reach down into her very soul and recapture what he had lost.
Jonathan took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. They stood face to face - Jonathan searching her eyes for passion, but finding none. He leaned down and kissed her lips, first rubbing his against hers lightly, and then increasing with desire. Slowly, Jennifer's body began to respond.
Jonathan reached down and unbuttoned her blouse. Jennifer stood passively, allowing Jonathan to take her clothes off layer by layer. When he was finished undressing her, he began disrobing himself, kissing her intermittently throughout. They slipped into bed quietly. Jonathan pulled her close until their faces were inches apart.
Watching Jennifer’s vacant stare, Jonathan frowned. It got her attention.
"What's the matter, Jonathan?" she asked softly.
He furrowed his brow. "Where are you, Jennifer?"
"What?" she said, confused.
"Never mind."
Jennifer gave him a pained expression.
"Give me a kiss," he ordered playfully, quickly turning the subject. She leaned in and obliged. His hand slid down to the small of her back and caressed the velvety recess he found.
"Jonathan?" she whispered.
"Huh?" He pressed her body close to him, feeling her soft breasts against his chest.
"Will you turn off the lights?"
"Oh," he said, kissing her neck. "All right." He reached over and switched off the bedside lamp. Turning back, his hands resumed their search for pleasure.
The touch of her body aroused him, but he felt cut off from the sight of her. Jennifer held her arms around him firmly, barely moving, but clinging to him nonetheless. He entered her quickly - far more quickly than usual. Ordinarily, Jennifer would have forced him to slow down, a repartee he greatly enjoyed, but tonight she allowed him free reign of his sexual desires.
Jennifer lay quietly, mystified that she wasn't enjoying what she had always enjoyed. She lay awake feeling profoundly saddened, long after Jonathan had drifted off to sleep.
"Hey there, Jen," Susan's raspy voice said over the phone. "I've been thinking about that story. I've got some ideas. You want to hear them?"
Jennifer's face brightened. "You mean, this one's not dead after all?"
"Honey, some of the best stories have been on life support before they've been revived. You want to come by my office tonight?"
"Sure," Jennifer said anxiously. "Oh...wait...actually, tonight's not good. I...ah...have an appointment tonight. How about tomorrow?"
"All right," Susan replied, glad to hear the return of Jennifer's enthusiasm.
Jennifer hung up the phone feeling uplifted. Perhaps tonight's visit to the psychologist wouldn't be so bad after all, she thought.
Jonathan and Jennifer sat quietly in Dr. Kelleher's waiting room. Jonathan looked around the room, surveying the benign décor. Amused at the abstract paintings that hung on the wall, he wondered if they were used as Rorschach tests. Was he doing the right thing? Like Dr. Kelleher had said, maybe his wife just needed more time to grieve.
"Mr. and Mrs. Hart?" the petite woman said, smiling like she was genuinely pleased to see them. Her graying hair was swept up into a bun, revealing a kind face – the sort that has been softened by the years. Jonathan bolted out of his seat, while Jennifer rose slowly. They both shook hands.
"I'm Dr. Kelleher. Let's go down to my office," she said, leading the way down a narrow hallway. Motioning for them to enter, she closed the door behind them.
The office was comfortably furnished with a sofa and easy chairs. Dr. Kelleher sat in one of the chairs, while Jonathan and Jennifer sat on the sofa close together.
Dr. Kelleher paused and smiled at them. She could tell that the Harts were a loving couple. Most times, she could tell almost immediately whether or not a couple was going to survive. Where they chose to sit, their eye contact with each other, their body language: these things always told the story behind the story. Dr. Kelleher watched as Jonathan leaned in towards Jennifer protectively, holding her hand. The worry on his face was easy to read.
"Jennifer," Dr. Kelleher began, "maybe you can start by telling me why you're here tonight."
Jennifer shifted in her seat. "Well, actually, it was Jonathan's idea," she said, looking at him.
"And what did he tell you?"
"That he was worried about me...because I've been preoccupied," she answered, still looking at Jonathan.
Dr. Kelleher let that comment linger for a moment.
"Do you have any idea why he's feeling that way?" she probed gently.
Jennifer looked down at the floor, pondering the question. She sighed heavily. "I guess I've been pretty busy at work... maybe we haven't been spending enough time together," she suggested. Somehow, she knew that wasn't quite the reason. Jonathan shook his head slowly.
"Jonathan?" Dr. Kelleher said, picking up on his cue.
Jonathan cleared his throat. "Ever since Jennifer's father died, she's been very distant. She's just not the same," he said tenderly, not wanting to sound accusatory.
Jennifer looked puzzled. "I don't know what you mean. I miss my father, that's true, but I think I've coped just fine," she said, straightening in her seat, trying to fight off a feeling of light-headedness.
Jonathan looked at Dr. Kelleher, her eyes confirming his fears.
"Jonathan, maybe you can be more specific about the changes you've seen. Why don't you tell me more about Jennifer?"
Jonathan smiled. She was his favorite subject. "Jennifer's always been open...honest with her feelings," he said, awkwardly finding the words. "She's not one to become depressed about something," he paused. "I'm sorry, I'm not that great at doing this kind of thing."
"You're doing beautifully. Go on," Dr. Kelleher encouraged.
"Well," he said looking at Jennifer lovingly, "I love her more than anything, and I know when she's troubled. I feel it. She doesn't seem to know that she's turning away from me."
"Is that true, Jennifer?"
Dr. Kelleher and Jonathan watched as Jennifer sat silently.
"Jennifer," Jonathan said gently, "Please tell me what you're thinking. Your silences – I don’t know what’s going through your mind."
Several moments passed. Jonathan looked pleadingly at Dr. Kelleher, as Jennifer's eyes filled with tears. Dr. Kelleher's expression cautioned him not to interrupt.
"I'm sorry," Jennifer barely whispered, taking a tissue out of her pocket and dabbing her nose.
"I don't want you to be sorry," Jonathan said, feeling a pain in his heart. "I want to help you."
Jennifer swallowed hard. "I don't know how I'm shutting you out," she said, her eyes and nose taking on a pinkish hue.
Jonathan paused for a moment and glanced at Dr. Kelleher. He was not accustomed to sharing his most intimate thoughts with someone besides his wife.
"Well," he began slowly, thinking of an example, "...the other night when we made love, you didn't respond. You wanted the lights off... I felt like you were just letting me...well, you know. It's never been that way with us." Jonathan looked down at the floor and wrung his hands. Talking about this made him uncomfortable, but he sensed that it was necessary.
Jennifer bit her lip. Her heart began pounding loudly in her chest, as her cheeks flared. She said nothing.
"Jennifer, I know that this may make you feel uncomfortable, but it's important to talk about. I'm sure it's not easy for Jonathan to bring it up," Dr. Kelleher offered.
Jennifer glared at her. "Well, what do you want me to say? I'm sorry that I didn't respond to him?" she said sarcastically, the anger rising in her voice.
Very good, thought Dr. Kelleher.
"Jennifer...I don't want you to be sorry - " Jonathan said.
"Well, then, what do you want me to be? Hurt? Humiliated? What?!" she fumed, crossing her arms against her chest.
"God, no..." he said, reaching out to her. "I just want things back to the way they were."
Her clinging tears finally let go, cascading down her cheeks. "Things are never going to be the same," she barely whispered.
Jonathan wrapped his arms around her tightly, as she sobbed into his chest. He would have cried too, if it had not been for Dr. Kelleher's presence. Instinctively, she knew this.
"Why don't we stop for tonight," she offered gently.
Jonathan and Jennifer slowly unwound and composed themselves.
"Jennifer, will you come again next week... alone?" Dr. Kelleher asked.
Jennifer nodded. Somehow she felt lighter.
"So, how'd it go last night?" Max asked, pouring Jonathan a cup of coffee. Jonathan sat at the table, lost in thought.
"Mr. H? Hey... now you're the one lost in space," Max said, trying to get his attention.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Max. What were you saying?"
"How did the meeting with the shrink go?"
Jonathan sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Psychologist, Max...."
"Whatever."
"I don't know...I don't know if it was the right idea."
"Did she open up at all?"
"A little, I guess... I don't know if that was a good thing though. She hasn't said a word about it today."
"I have a friend who's a shrink. He plays poker with us every now and then. He says the best way you can tell it's working is if they cry...did she cry?"
Jonathan grimaced.
"Never mind. You don't have to tell me," Max said, thinking better of it. Sitting down next to Jonathan, he put a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah, Max, she cried," he said, closing his eyes at the painful memory. "I made her cry."
"Did she agree to go back again?"
"Yes, she did actually."
Max thought for a moment. "Well, then, maybe it is working. I doubt she's gunna get better without feeling the pain first."
"Maybe you're right, Max."
Max smiled and patted Jonathan on the back. "Of course, I'm right!"
Jonathan returned the smile.
"Jen, you look awful!" Susan cried, when she saw Jennifer enter her office.
"I do?" Jennifer replied, fixing her hair. Susan never did mince words.
"Well, I mean you're gorgeous - you always are - but, I mean, you look like you haven't slept... or you're coming down with something."
Jennifer gave a short chuckle. "Thanks for the honest appraisal. Actually, I didn't sleep well last night."
"Oh," Susan said, ushering her over to a sofa in the corner of the room. The table in front of them was covered in paper and news clippings. "Well, rest up, my girl...because you have a lot of work cut out for you...if you're up for it."
"My story?"
Susan smiled. "Yes...I've given it a lot of thought."
"...And?"
"Well, at first I didn't like the idea at all, and then I got to thinking about changing the angle of the story...and then it all clicked," Susan said, clapping her hands in delight.
"Well? Don't keep me in suspense," Jennifer grinned at her editor's gift for intrigue.
Susan's eyes lit up, enjoying the drama of the moment. "This orphaned girl...let's not focus on the political forces that are playing a part in her placement - I think people are tired of that angle. I think we should go at it through the child's point-of-view...you know, what it's like to be twelve years old and have no parents."
Jennifer felt her throat constrict. "Susan, isn't that a bit sensationalistic? It sounds like a story for People magazine."
"Aw, come on, Jen...don't be so hard on me. I don't want you to write it like a People magazine article. That's why I want you doing the piece. I know you'll bring sensitivity to it."
Jennifer got up from the sofa and walked around the room. Somehow writing the story as a political piece seemed so much more exciting. Now, the prospect of having to interview a young girl about losing her parents seemed unimaginable.
"What's wrong, Jen. Talk to me," Susan coaxed. "What are you thinking?"
Jennifer turned around, sliding her hands into the pockets of her beige slacks. "Oh, I don't know, Susan. It may be very traumatizing for a little girl to be interviewed by a stranger. To be honest, it just doesn't feel right to me."
"What, are you going to scare her or something? Don't you see, Jen, someone has to tell her story. Everyone else has been politicizing this. I need you to be her voice."
Jennifer took in a deep breath and looked Susan squarely in the eye.
"All right, but under one condition...If I think this girl is being traumatized by my doing this piece, it's off...okay?"
Susan respected Jennifer's journalistic integrity. She knew she was putting the right person on this assignment.
"You've got a deal."
"Jennifer, I'm glad you came back," Dr. Kelleher said, adjusting her eyeglasses.
Jennifer sat quietly in the seat across from the doctor, avoiding the sofa on which she had unraveled last week. She wondered why she had agreed to return at all. Well, she thought, maybe this would be the last session - it would make Jonathan happy.
Jennifer smiled pleasantly.
"Have you and Jonathan talked about our session last week?"
"No...not really. I think we said everything we needed to say."
"Hmmm," Dr. Kelleher uttered. Silence followed.
Jennifer shifted in her seat, avoiding eye contact.
"Well, Jonathan seems to think that your father's death has had a great impact on you," Dr. Kelleher probed gently. "Has it?"
Jennifer drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Oh, I don't know. I miss him, of course, but my day-to-day life hasn't changed any. My father lived in Maryland."
"Love can extend beyond great distances."
Jennifer nodded, feeling her face become flushed. "He was eighty years old. He lived a full life."
Dr. Kelleher watched her intently. "Does that make it any easier?"
Jennifer gazed out the window behind Dr. Kelleher. Pausing, she finally shrugged.
"And your mother? Is she still alive?"
"No," Jennifer said matter-of-factly, "she died many years ago."
"And your father never remarried?"
"No," she said almost defensively, and then her voice softened. "No, he never did."
"Did you ever wonder why not?"
"Well, after my mother died, he was busy raising me. Once I left the house and went off to school, he became very busy with his work and traveled a lot. He's had some relationships, but never one that compared to mother's, I suppose."
"Any siblings, Jennifer?"
"No."
Dr. Kelleher sat quietly, watching Jennifer's expression. She admired her character. Apparently, her father had done a damn fine job of raising his only daughter. And judging from her relationship with Jonathan, she had an admirable capacity to love and be loved.
"So...you've been the apple of your father's eye so to speak," Dr. Kelleher mused aloud, "and your husband's too."
Jennifer tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yes, I've been lucky."
"Have you?"
Jennifer stopped and thought about that. "In some ways."
"And in other ways, you're not?"
Jennifer looked directly at the doctor for the first time. Her face looked sad. "No, I would say not," she said softly.
"How are you not lucky, Jennifer?" Dr. Kelleher asked compassionately.
Jennifer frowned and looked away. "It's hard to explain."
"Try me."
