Her Forever Family

“You name it! There are any number of excellent therapists willing to come see you if you won’t go to them. I’ve had calls from Doctor Ackerson, Doctor Cooke and Doctor Hunter. They’re all anxious to hear from you.”

“What about Doctor Stone?” Ethan squinted, watching for a reaction.

Ben couldn’t help admiring his son’s sense of timing.

“You’re kidding, of course,” Ben answered.

Ethan shook his head. “I liked her,” he said simply, then moved toward his dressing room, through another threshold without a door. Physically beyond his father’s sight and emotionally beyond his comprehension.

Ali parked in the circular driveway of the three-story mansion that showcased Texas limestone and Mexican stucco. The foundation for the home had been blasted from a hillside and then positioned to appear as if it sprung up naturally out of the rock. In no hurry to go inside, she moved to the edge of the front terrace designed with an overhang facing west where a brilliant sunset was in progress.

“Check it out, Simba.”

Alert eyes followed the direction her mistress pointed, as if understanding perfectly.

Ali had always been fascinated by the setting of the sun, a dazzling kaleidoscope unique for each day. Nothing was more breathtaking than a long line flight during the last twenty minutes of daylight. And she’d prefer the dangers of an air drop mission any day over the one Benjamin Lamar had implored her to consider.

“If this is the view Ethan has from his bedroom, it’s no wonder he won’t come out.” She turned away from the stunning vista and moved to stand before the home’s front entry with Simba close by. The dog was truly a gift from God, a family member who could never be taken away and perfect in her inability to judge the failures of her mistress.

Three sharp raps of a brass knocker brought footsteps and a large blurry figure to the inside of the frosted glass. One of the double doors swung wide and then immediately closed to a four-inch opening.

“Was it really necessary for you to bring that animal?” Benjamin Lamar spoke though the gap.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, too. Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.” Ali hoped a snappy response would mask her self-doubt from the man so full of self-assurance.

“I asked a simple question.” And evidently had no intention of inviting her inside until she responded.

“The answer is yes. Simba goes everywhere with me because she’s part of the team. And since rescues can’t be scheduled like football games, we’re always together and prepared, even during office hours at the clinic.”

“Can you put her back in your car or tie her up outside?”

Simba growled. A hand signal silenced her, then Ali offered what she knew would be a condescending smile and shook her head.

“Listen, Mr. Lamar, you all but begged me to give this a shot, so you’re going to have to be flexible on this one point. Simba won’t make a move without my command, she doesn’t shed and she hasn’t had an accident on the floor since she was six weeks old. If you’re going to trust me with your son, then you ought to trust me with my own dog.”

A look of resignation crossed his tanned face. He stepped back and opened the door, his hand sweeping toward the foyer, an invitation to enter. Ali inhaled slowly and moved across the welcome mat. She was greeted by a room with soaring ceilings, hand-dyed rugs over a mesquite parquet floor and cozy French country furnishings. She recalled reading his late wife had been into interior design.

“You have a beautiful place.” She admired the wall of windows opposite the entry hall. “What a sensational view.”

“Thank you,” he answered humbly. “It’s way too big for just two of us, but it’s the only home Ethan’s ever known. Getting him to change his socks is a chore most days, so changing our residence is out of the question for now.”

Alison nodded, understanding. An Asperger kid was a creature of rigidity and order. Keeping life calm meant holding change to a minimum. His mother’s death must have sent Ethan into a nosedive. He seemed to feel somehow responsible, so it was no wonder he wouldn’t drop the subject that had rocked his world. Having lost her own mother to family violence when Ali was only nine years old, Ethan’s irrational sense of accountability was a belief she could relate to on so many levels.

“I’m sorry I was rude at the door,” Lamar apologized, keeping one eye on Simba’s whereabouts. “I really do appreciate you driving out here this evening. Have you had your dinner yet? Our housekeeper makes a tasty chicken pie from scratch, but Ethan turned his nose up to it. What a shocker.”

Ali heard the frustration in his words. A father wanted answers, but very often there were none. Just as there were few alternatives when living with the chaos of mental illness. And the patient always seemed to hold the trump card, the threat of self-destruction.

“Thanks for the offer, but I had a power shake on the way over.” She curled her arm in a body builder’s pose, pointed to her biceps and enjoyed his nod of approval. “So, where do I find that son of yours?”

“His suite is upstairs.”

“Suite?” She felt her eyebrows rise.

“It’s a big house, remember?” Lamar explained. “The area was originally intended for out-of-town guests. When Ethan was old enough to need more space, we thought it was a good idea for him to have a game room where his buddies could hang out. Unfortunately, my son’s friends can’t tolerate his OCD, and instead of games his shelves are lined with specimen samples.”

“Specimens?” Her lips twisted like she’d just sucked a slice of lemon. Even in med school dead things floating in formaldehyde had creeped her out.

“You’ll see” was Lamar’s ominous explanation, but the sparkle in his blue, blue eyes indicated humor.

He pointed toward the steps that wound upward two flights. “Ethan’s expecting you. He’s on the second floor.”

“How will I recognize his suite?”

“Just look for the rooms with no doors on the hinges. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

“This may take a while,” Ali warned as she shifted the weight of her oversize bag and started up the steps.

“It usually does when the meter’s running, Doctor Stone.”

She rolled her eyes as she trudged up the stairs with Simba close behind. Of course, Benjamin Lamar would make sure he had the last word.

Just like a politician.

Chapter Four

Ben watched as the lady and her dog climbed the carpeted steps. The only other time he’d seen Alison Stone she’d been in a rescue worker’s one-piece jumpsuit. The zippered pockets from chest to ankle had been stuffed lumpy with recovery gear that hid her womanly curves. With her lustrous hair caught up beneath a safety helmet, it was no wonder he’d mistaken her for one of the guys.

But today in jangly silver jewelry, a bright turquoise sleeveless blouse and perfectly fitted jeans there was no doubt about her gender. She was one hundred percent female and very easy on the eye.

He cleared his throat to whisk away the direction his mind was wandering. The slight sound drew the attention of the dog. It stopped at the landing to turn a dark, searching gaze downward. Ben pointed toward Simba’s attractive mistress, narrowed his eyes and mouthed the word “Shoo!” The animal complied but Ben felt certain she’d made the decision on her own and it had nothing to do with his command.

“Father, am I ever going to have a say in the direction of my life again?” He prayed aloud as he’d done a million times since the day he’d returned from Theresa’s memorial and come back to the house to face Ethan’s problems. Alone.

With time, the aloneness had turned to solitude and eventually the home so filled with his late wife’s touch had become comforting. Where Ben found refuge in their tasteful surroundings, Ethan continually used reminders of his mother as reason to resurrect the past. Certain he bore guilt for distracting her during a rainy drive, Ethan felt he deserved the blame for her death. The assumption was as wrong as wrong could be, but it had become part of Ethan’s obsessive thinking, a behavior that had Ben clutching the tail end of his frayed rope.

“Father, for forty-two years You’ve blessed me with the ability to face any challenge.” Ben continued his one-sided conversation as he headed across the foyer and into the fragrant kitchen. “By now I thought we’d be operating on a Texas-size scale. But instead of wrestling legislative issues I’m struggling to get my kid to sit at the dinner table with me. What’s up with that? And if the folks who used to pay their hard-earned money to hear me speak could see me now, they wouldn’t be lining up to vote, they’d be lining up for refunds.”

Ben shook his head at his inadequacy, slipped quilted mitts on his hands and scooped a cookie sheet from the hot oven. He flipped one of the single-serving pies upside-down on a stoneware plate, removed the baking tin and pierced the flaky bottom crust with a fork. Steam drifted upward, lasting only a few seconds before dissipating into air stirred by the fan blades slowly rotating overhead.

You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Ben recalled the words from the book of James.

“Okay, Lord, I get it,” he admitted. “This is temporary and there’s a bigger picture that I can’t see. But gaining a first down would be helpful now and again.”

Too impatient to take his plate to the table, Ben shoveled a mouthful of chicken and vegetables through parted lips. He was immediately reminded with scalding consequences that a cool-down moment and a proper grace are helpful now and again, too.

Ali walked through Ethan’s rooms, amazed at the affluence that was basically lost on the boy who really only cared, that is to say obsessed, about one thing.

Rocks.