took down Jameson’s number, punched off the phone and climbed down from the car. Jameson Cartwright, for God’s sake. One of the last people she’d ever imagined seeing willingly again, let alone in a situation where he needed her help.
Following the curving brick path from the driveway, she passed her dad’s Meyer lemon tree, heavy with still-green fruit, and the jasmine bush bought by her mom, planted clumsily by Kendra and her brother, Duncan. It would burst into fragrant white blossoms in February. She let herself into the house and headed through the small dining room to the spacious kitchen, her mom’s pride and joy. Dropping her bag on the hardwood floor, Kendra dialed her best friend’s cell. If anyone would enjoy this story, it was Lena.
“Hey, Kendra, what’s up, Byron giving you trouble?”
“I don’t think he knows how to make trouble.” She helped herself to a can of lemon-flavored sparkling water from the stainless-steel refrigerator and pushed through the sliding glass door out onto the deck overlooking their pool, which overlooked their terraced hill lush with her mom’s rather overgrown gardens, which overlooked Redondo Beach and beyond that Los Angeles, the Pacific and the Santa Monica Mountains. “It’s a different kind of dog giving me trouble. Remember Jameson Cartwright?”
“Yes. Ew. Don’t tell me he got in touch with you.”
“Sister Matty called me. Jameson was injured on his first day of Air Force training last month.” She dragged out a chair from the iron table set her parents had bought soon after they were married and turned it toward the view.
“Last month? What’s he been doing all this time? I thought everyone in his family ran to the Air Force as soon as they got out of diapers.”
“Nope.” Kendra sank into the chair and propped her feet up on the railing. “He took two years off to run around Europe. Spain in particular.”
“Two years? No kidding. So what did Matty want?”
“She wants me to work with him.”
“You’re kidding! That obnoxious, bullying... How come? What happened?”
Kendra started smiling before she even opened her mouth. “He’s depressed because he tore up his knee at Keesler Air Force Base. Tripping over a cat.”
Lena gasped, then her shriek of laughter nearly burst Kendra’s eardrum. “Oh, my God! Another Cartwright hero!”
“I know.” She was giggling again, guiltily this time.
“Brought down by a pussy!” Lena snorted and chuckled a few more times. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t be laughing. I’m sure it’s hell for him. No more Mr. Tough Guy, no more hot uniforms and cool planes. Now who is he?”
“Exactly.” Kendra tipped her head back to enjoy the eucalyptus-smelling breeze. “Matty said he’s seriously depressed.”
“Ugh, I bet. So she wants you to fix up his ego and send him back into battle?”
“Yup.” Kendra waited a beat. “Maybe with a squirrel next time.”
Another shriek.
Kendra laughed with her. Yes, it was horrible to make fun of someone in physical and emotional pain, but Jameson and his twin brothers...it was sort of inevitable. Reap what you sow, Cartwrights. “One interesting fact. Matty never went into the military. She’s a working actress. I almost got the impression she had some depth.”
“No way.”
“What’s more, she implied Jameson might have some, too.”
“You have to admit, he wasn’t as bad as Mark and Hayden.”
“Not saying much.”
“True. I’ve told you his dad was a piece of work. We’d hear shouting over there all the time. I don’t know if he drank or what, but he had a hell of a temper.”
“I remember.” Not surprising. Most people who grew up bullies had a first-class role model at home. “I said I’d talk to him.”
“Of course you did.” Lena sighed. “You can’t resist trying to fix everyone. I’m not sure this guy deserves you, though.”
“I said I’d talk to him. Then I get to decide what to do. I’m curious, to be honest. Don’t tell me you’re not. You were madly in love with him.”
“Only for a few weeks! Besides, everyone was madly in love with Jameson. He was a jerk, but he was a major hottie.”
“Not to me.” Kendra shuddered. She liked men whose strength lay in kindness and caring, not muscles and manipulation. Lena had married Paul, a slender, dark-haired fellow lawyer—complete opposite of her plump blond energy—who was gentle, brilliant, funny and the nicest man on the planet. Kendra wanted one of those.
“When are you going to talk to him?”
“When I can stomach it. His sister wants me to make it seem like I’m on official business and leave her out of it.”
“Smart. If my brother thought I was trying to force him into counseling, he’d refuse on principle.”
“Uh-huh. And honestly, I think he’s probably mortified. I mean, really, a cat?”
“Oof.” Lena started giggling again. “I know, I’m terrible. If it was anyone else it wouldn’t be so funny. Call me the second you finish talking to him, okay?”
“I promise.” She hung up and sat still for a moment, remembering Jameson in grade school, bringing up his wide, smug smile from her memory bank, that weird nervous snickering he did when taunting her, looking back at his hulking older brothers for validation and support.
In elementary school he’d tripped her in the halls, put worms in her lunch, glue in her hair. In middle school he’d spread rumors that she had mysterious rashes, that she was dating a cousin, that she’d had an abortion in eighth grade, that she was being medicated for a mental illness. In their freshman year of high school he’d asked her to the school dance as a joke—pretending he wanted to date the fatty, ha-ha-ha. Then without lifting a finger, he’d denied her the class presidency she’d worked so hard for.
Why was she even considering helping this guy?
Because she, at least, was a grown-up now. Because he was hurting. Because helping people in pain was her job. Because Kendra knew depression, knew how it could sap your ability to get out of bed in the morning, how the idea of having to live the rest of your life seemed an impossibility, how feeling anything but crushing pain seemed a distant dream, sometimes not even worth going after. Didn’t matter what caused the pain, the very fact of its existence meant conquering it should be imperative.
After she’d emerged from the worst of her own grief with the support and help of an amazing therapist Lena had dragged her to, Kendra had decided she wanted to help people out of that same darkness.
For her program, she used the techniques that had helped her the most, starting slow and simple—getting out of the house and back in touch with nature, then gradually resuming favorite hobbies and activities and introducing new ones that had no memories attached. And along with that, listening, compassion and
