The Husband Lesson

“No problem at all.”

Charles meant what he said. Karan could tell he liked Rhonda. The sentiment appeared to be mutual, which made Karan wonder again if these two were involved in more than work. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?

But she didn’t care about Charles’s love life. No way could she have possibly kept up with him. Not according to the Bluestone grapevine. Apparently, he dated anything that moved, and Karan couldn’t exactly say she was surprised. He’d have to look far and wide to replace the wife he’d thrown away.

Why should she care what the man did with his life? She didn’t. She also couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked with dark smudges beneath his eyes. The way he used to look when he was operating on little or no sleep for too many days running.

“I’m out of here,” he said. “Ciao.”

Rhonda smiled. “Enjoy your trip. I love rainbow trout.”

“Noted.” Charles finally met Karan’s gaze, and his smile faded fast. “Welcome to the New Hope and good luck.”

He headed out the door without another word. Karan watched him go, all contained energy that shouldn’t have been so familiar this many years after the fact. Funny the things that stuck in her brain.

And who knew the man did volunteer work? That bit of news hadn’t made it around the grapevine the way news of his many conquests had. Did Wannabe Jenny know Karan had once been married to a codirector of this program? That would have her cackling over her microwave frozen dinners.

Jack had known, no question.

Add one more no-good ex to the growing list. Maybe Karan should address how she’d become such a loser magnet since she was forced into therapy anyway.

“Okay. Now that’s settled.” Rhonda shoveled folders into an open briefcase then deposited the whole thing on the floor. “Let’s get to business. Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

Karan glanced at her choices—two upholstered chairs in front of the desk or a leather sofa that looked like the perfect place for New Hope’s overworked codirectors to catch some shut-eye. Or enjoy a few stolen moments together.

Karan knew doctors so well.

Sinking onto a wing chair, she watched Rhonda continue to clear space on the desk. The blue blazer fit the therapist nicely and complemented her highlighted hair, but she’d obviously purchased the white blouse beneath it off some rack in a department store.

“That’s much better.” Rhonda sat and peered across the now clean surface. “So what’s been going on?”

The casual question came as a surprise. But only for a moment. The question was only deceptively casual, Karan knew, a trick to gain a patient’s confidence.

“I’m in a bit of legal trouble.”

Rhonda upped the smile a notch. “So I hear. Let’s talk about that.”

The moment of truth. “I’m not sure what to say. I’ve been ordered by the court to explain my actions to a stranger, and I resent the intrusion in my life. But, that said, I also acknowledge how my actions invited the intrusion. I made a bad decision one night and I’ve been paying for it in spades. Starting with a judge who’s still mad she didn’t make the cut on the high school cheerleading team. She’s suspended my driving privileges with the sole exception of coming here. And I had to beg for that concession. If this isn’t bad enough, I walk through the door to find my ex-husband, who can’t stand the sight of me, and a therapist who I’m not sure isn’t involved with said ex.”

“Great, we’ve got a place to begin.” Rhonda didn’t miss a beat. Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on the desk. “First of all, I’m not involved with your ex-husband in any way but professionally. Everything said in any session between us is bound by confidentiality. However, if you’re not comfortable, we can ask the judge to reassign you. There are several good therapists on staff here. I only took the job because you’re our first foray into using community service hours. But having met you, and given your connection to Charles, I’m good with turning you over to someone else if you want. The choice is yours.”

Karan was inclined to take Rhonda at her word, even though she wasn’t wearing a wedding band. The only ring she wore was a rather attractive topaz set in silver on an index finger.

“Thank you, but that’s not any choice at all. As you said, we’d have to ask the judge for permission and I’d rather not subject myself to that until I absolutely have to.”

“You feel as if the past has influenced the judge?”

“She threw the book at me for a first offense.”

Rhonda flipped through some papers. “Well, no denying that. What role did you have in her not making the cheerleading team?”

“I was the captain.”

“I see. And how do you feel you might have been sentenced with a different judge?”

“I don’t think I warranted the maximum allowable sentence.” Karan tried not to sound petulant. “The judge thought that because I’m aware of the effects of alcohol on me given my condition that I should have erred on the side of caution, which I usually do.”

“So what was different about that night?”

Karan supposed she should have expected the question and had a ready answer. This woman was a therapist, after all, digging deep to root out problems—or to be convinced there weren’t any brewing in Karan’s psyche.

There weren’t any, thank you.

“I drank too quickly. It’s that simple. Those first few sips usually tell me whether or not I’m going to have a problem. If my blood sugar is steady then I can enjoy a glass of champagne. Never more than one. And my friend, the senator, had announced his bid for reelection, so I wanted to share a toast.” She shrugged. “By the time I realized I was feeling tipsy it was too late.”

“How soon afterward did you leave the function?”

“Too soon,” Karan said drily.

“Okay, so something was different that night. I’d be curious to know what it was.” Rhonda glanced at the wall clock. “Well, we don’t have a lot of time left today. Largely my fault, so my apologies. I was already running late from my day job when I discovered your connection to Dr. Steinberg. So, let’s shift gears now.”

Fine by Karan. She took a deep breath and settled in the chair, willing herself to relax.

“I’d like to know a little more about you, Karan. About where you feel you might fit in around here.”

“That’s a very good question.”

Rhonda seemed to understand the significance. “We have all sorts of things going on around New Hope. Lots of services for our families and outreach programs, which translates into the need for a lot of volunteers. We’ll find something suited to your particular skills, I promise. So, what kind of work do you do?”

“Well, I don’t really have time for a conventional job. My days are too full and require too much flexibility to make rigid commitments like that.”

Rhonda was too professional to openly show emotion, but the surprise was there. “With what exactly?”

That question was a little more difficult to answer. “Social engagements. Projects. Sometimes I feel like all I do is run around putting out fires. You know how it is—something’s always up with one of the houses, or the finances need attention, or I’m asked to coordinate some event.”

Rhonda was silent for a moment, clearly considering. “Okay then. Let’s start with what you think you’d like to do around here. Any ideas?”

“I’m gifted with interior design. My last husband’s Manhattan offices were featured in an international medical magazine.” The generic interior of this place could certainly use some help to make it look welcoming and homey, which Karan thought should have been the whole point of an emergency shelter. She kept that opinion to herself.

“I’ll certainly keep that in mind as we work around here. We are hoping to build another structure on the property for offices, so we can devote more of this house to sheltering families. But that’s still down the road. We just finished renovating everything and have tapped out our resources. Only temporarily, I hope. How about administrative tasks?” Rhonda asked hopefully. “We’ve got wonderful people in place but they could use a hand.”

“I don’t think I’m your person,” Karan admitted. “I have a personal assistant who handles my administrative tasks at home.”

Rhonda wasn’t deterred. “Medical experience?”

“I’ve married two doctors.”

That got a chuckle. “Any hobbies? Gardening perhaps?”