Garrett was pleased with the presentation. Darrin had done an outstanding job on the slides, and the participants had come prepared with some thoughtful questions.
It was after 10:00 by the time he reached his room. He changed and crawled into the empty king sized bed, then lay awake.
His mind had turned to the woman with whom he had spent the earlier part of the day. Cathee. She was beautiful.
He was surprised to admit it, but she outshone his beloved dark-haired, dark-eyed Jill. He never thought he’d ever think that about anyone. Jill had a quiet beauty that shone from her face. She had been devout in her faith, and it showed in her every move. He realized his tender feelings for Cathee’s daughter was her similarity to his beloved Jill. He couldn’t help but think she looked just like Jill’s daughter – his daughter – would have looked.
As he thought about Cathee, he could clearly recall the glint of sunshine on her honey gold hair, the way her hazel eyes lit up when she talked to her daughter, the way they darkened when she turned to him. Her obvious change in expression had hurt, and he wanted the way she looked at him to change. It had changed some after that odd phone call. She had softened as she turned to him in anguish, and he saw it in her behavior.
He wondered about her past. Sixteen plus the seven years since her parents had died meant she was just twenty-three. That put her at 17 or 18 when Christina was born. She must’ve been in high school.
His hands clenched into fists. He found himself wanting to tear Juan into jagged pieces. He was surprised by the intensity of his feelings. He hadn’t even met the guy. He’d just seen what mention of him had done to Cathee. Her meltdown had been hard to watch – even though he had experience as a therapist. Her anguish had hit him hard.
He thought about his own pain. About how difficult it had been to go on alone without his beloved Jill. His own heart had been damaged, but he realized it was time to move on. Time to heal. Jill wouldn’t have wanted him to spend his life mourning her loss. She would have wanted him to be happy. He thought of her laughing face. About all the joy they’d had together, and he ached for the same kind of companionship they had shared. It was an ache he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.
He sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. It was time to write his feelings down. Feelings he had never admitted he had. He couldn’t remember how many clients he had recommended writing therapy to. It was a proven technique, yet he’d never attempted to use it himself. As he wrote his feelings about the day Jill had died, all the pain he’d been holding in erupted. He stopped writing and let the tears flow. He shut his eyes. The pain of her loss engulfed him. After the intense wave dissipated, he opened his eyes and continued to write.
After he finished, he turned off the lamp and dropped into an exhausted slumber. Dreamless. The first night in almost six years he hadn’t dreamed about his beloved Jill.