Jenna Mindel - Season of Redemption

Was Ryan headed for trouble? If he remained on this course, most likely he would be. She’d spoken to Ryan’s brother, a minister, who had shed a lot of light on the accident that had killed Ryan’s fiancée. Her name was Sara, and she’d died in Ryan’s arms. Kellie nearly cried after she’d hung up.

“Mrs. Marsh, I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions about your son.”

The chuckle on the other end of the phone surprised her. “Mrs. Marsh?”

“Oh, please call me Rose. And sorry, but this is just so unusual.”

Kellie tipped her head. “How so?”

“It’s not like Ryan to do anything wrong. When the boys were younger, I used to get all kinds of calls about my oldest son, Sinclair. But he’s settled down and recently married. Ryan was always the responsible one.”

Rose Marsh sounded vibrant and proud of both her sons. There wasn’t that weary tone in her voice, like she’d been through the wringer over and over again. Interesting.

“Does Ryan have a history of abusing alcohol?”

“No, not really. In fact, Ryan was the type of kid who’d call me fifteen minutes before his curfew with the reason why he might be late. I never worried about Ryan in that respect.”

“Rose, if I may ask, is there anything that worries you now?”

“His grief.” Another sigh. “He’s not moving on, and it’s been three years.”

“Yes, he told me about that. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Miss Cavanaugh.”

“Kellie.”

“Can you help him, Kellie?”

She felt her back stiffen. “I’m not his counselor. I’m helping with the evaluation.”

“He’d have a fit if he knew I’d said this, but I want him to go through some sort of counseling. Ryan’s too deep a thinker. He keeps his feelings locked up inside and wouldn’t dream of seeking help on his own. And he needs help.”

Still waters run deep with dangerous currents and undertows.

“Kellie?”

“Yes, ma’am?

“Do you believe in God?”

A personal question for sure, but Kellie wasn’t surprised or offended. Ryan’s brother was a pastor, and he’d told her that they’d been raised in a Christian home. The Marsh family had been more than simply Sunday morning churchgoers. They tried their best to live their faith. Like her.

Kellie cleared her throat. This call was taking an unexpected turn. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“There’s an old poem that refers to God as the Hound of Heaven. Well, I think God’s tracking down my son to bring him back. Please recommend Ryan to go through counseling. He can’t carry his burden of grief anymore. He needs to finally give it over to the Lord, before he lets it destroy him. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do, Mrs. Marsh.” A little too well, in fact. Some things were hard to let go of.

After a few more questions, Kellie hung up the phone. God worked in mysterious ways, but this one really confused her. Was she supposed to be God’s instrument in this man’s life? That was a big responsibility. One she didn’t take lightly. A knock on the door to her tiny office interrupted her thoughts, so she hit the save button on her computer.

Ginny stuck her head around the door. “Do you have that Marsh evaluation done yet? John’s asking for it. He’s got a relatively new group starting up and can take on another client.”

“It’s right here.” Kellie hit the print button and then pointed at the shelf. “Or rather, there.”

“Great. Let’s review it before our teen group session, okay?” Ginny gathered up the pages and scanned them quickly. “Heard anything from the school yet?”

“Not yet. I don’t expect to for a while.” Kellie sat on her hands to keep them still while Ginny settled into a chair. She gave her time to read the report thoroughly.

“So, you believe this guy’s telling the truth?” Ginny’s gaze narrowed.

“I do.”

Ginny smiled. “You’re so young.”

Kellie knew that was her mentor’s way of saying naïve. One of the things Kellie had learned interning here was that the counselors were pretty skeptical. They had to be.

“And yet you’re recommending a minimum amount of counseling. Why?”

Kellie wouldn’t admit that Ryan’s mother had asked her to, or that she’d confirmed Kellie’s thought process. “I think he might be headed for real trouble if he doesn’t deal with his emotional pain.”

Ginny rolled her pen between her fingers. “Might being the operative word here. Do you think he’s an alcoholic?”

“Most of the signs point to no.” But Kellie had her doubts.

The way he’d admitted to a reprieve that night at the party, the night he’d been arrested, raised a red flag. Ryan Marsh had found a destructive way to cope.

Kellie knew all about that.

Ginny gave her a hard stare of consideration. “Okay. I’m approving it. John will be happy for a solid self-pay, and maybe we can prevent this guy from going down the wrong road.”

“Exactly.” Kellie nodded, but she felt like she’d betrayed Ryan.

A guy like him wasn’t going to be happy with the news. Nope. Not one bit.

Chapter Two

How’d he get here? Really, how had this happened? Ryan took a seat in one chair of many that made a circle. The group session room at LightHouse Center looked sterile and cold despite the inspirational posters on the walls and potted plants on the windowsills.

Some of his fellow group members were a little rough around the edges. The young woman to his left might as well be a walking billboard for the tattoo shop in town. Another guy had a beard that shouted Willie Nelson impersonator. Seriously, they looked like they belonged here. He didn’t. And he had weeks of this to look forward to?

Clenching his jaw, Ryan glanced around. Where was that pretty intern? He wanted to tell her she’d made a big mistake. He’d read that report, and yeah, there was some scary truth to what she’d written, but that didn’t mean he needed this. He definitely didn’t want it..

He watched more people roll in and take their seats. Normal-looking people, professionals even. So far, thankfully no one he knew.

“I think we should get started.” John Thompson, the guy he’d met with briefly after hearing the verdict of his assessment, also sat down in the circle.

“We’ve got several new people,” John announced. “I’d like to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves and state why you’re here. First names only. Everything said here stays here. Confidentiality and anonymity are crucial to the safety of the herd.”

Ryan would give anything to wring that intern’s neck. What color would her eyes turn then? The thought made him smile. And then he heard the silence and realized the group was waiting for him.

He slid back in his chair and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’m Ryan and I don’t get why I’m here.”

The woman with the tattoos gave him a sarcastic once-over, like he was the loser. A couple of folks snickered.

“Okay, Ryan. Eventually, you will.” John didn’t like his answer. No surprise there.

John hadn’t liked any of his answers when they’d met to map out his master treatment plan. Ryan’s goal was getting this over with as soon as possible and meeting the condition of his sentence so the charges would be dropped. Period. He didn’t have a problem. Not a drinking problem anyway.

Then the guy slouching next to him answered, “Yeah. My name’s Pete, and what he said is good enough for me, too.”

“Honesty, folks.” John peered over his glasses at them before giving Ryan a pointed look. He had a short stack of papers attached to a clipboard, resting on his knee. “We’ll get nowhere fast with minimized answers.”