Healing the Widower's Heart. Susan Anne Mason

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Healing the Widower's Heart - Susan Anne Mason Mills & Boon Love Inspired

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is why I’d like to keep this very casual. I’ll incorporate Zach’s sessions with the everyday activities, so it’s more natural.”

      Nathan nodded. “That might help.” He paused. “What about...compensation for your services?”

      She cringed. Money was an uncomfortable topic for her. Especially when she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get through to the boy. “Why don’t we leave that until I see if I can make any headway with Zach.” She gripped her hands together. “Which brings me to the reason I asked to see you. In order to help your son, I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

      She swore she could see the walls go up around Nathan, brick by brick. He shifted on the metal chair that groaned under his weight.

      “Was Zach’s behavior out of line?”

      “No. In fact, we got along pretty well, all things considered. But something he said made me wonder if I’m missing part of the picture.”

      Nathan’s piercing eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”

      She took a deep breath before continuing, hoping to untangle the knots in her stomach. “I’m sorry if this sounds cruel, but I’m only repeating what Zach told me. He said you hate him, you’re glad his mother died and you’re mad because you’re ‘stuck’ with him.” She ticked the list off on her fingers.

      His mouth tightened into an even grimmer line as the color drained from his face. “You must know none of that is true.”

      “Of course.” She kept an even tone. “What I need to know is why Zach believes it’s true.”

      He threw out his hands. “How should I know what goes on in the mind of a seven-year-old?”

      Paige fought to keep her manner sympathetic. “Mr. Porter, I understand you’re in a terrible position—trying to cope with your own loss, while helping your child deal with his overwhelming emotions.”

      When there was no response, she picked up her pen and battled the urge to tap out her nerves and frustration on the legal pad. “Zach is most likely acting out quite a bit right now—creating scenes, having tantrums. Am I close?”

      Nathan looked at her with unconcealed surprise. “Very.”

      “This type of behavior would be difficult enough to deal with in an ordinary situation. But dealing with your own issues as well must make it almost impossible.”

      “Yes.” The relief in his voice accentuated the release of tension in his broad shoulders.

      She sensed he hadn’t shared this burden with anyone—that he’d been keeping his own grief bottled up. “May I ask how your wife died?” she asked gently.

      He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, pain leaped from their blue depths. “A brain aneurysm—five months ago. Zach found her when he got home from school.”

      “Oh, no. How awful.” The thought brought the sting of tears to her eyes. “No wonder he’s having such a hard time. Did he call you right away?”

      Nathan looked away again. “He called his grandmother and she phoned for an ambulance. But it was too late. Cynthia had been dead for hours.”

      “I’m so sorry. I know how hard it is to lose a loved one...unexpectedly.” She struggled with a lump in her throat as painful memories surfaced. The flashing lights of the police car spearing the rain-soaked night. The wail of the siren that matched her own wail of grief. She sucked in a deep breath and pushed the images away. She couldn’t afford to relive her own sorrow every time she treated a patient.

      Nathan still wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. Once again, Paige sensed there was far more to the situation than he was telling her. She forged ahead to cover the awkward silence. “Right now, Zach is suffering from the classic anger associated with the grieving process. He’s also experiencing severe abandonment issues. Subconsciously, Zach is testing your limits to see if you, too, will abandon him.”

      Nathan’s focus riveted back to her, as though she held the secrets of the universe. When she shifted under his intense stare, the wheel on her rickety chair creaked. “It’s important to keep reassuring him of your unconditional love and support. Make him understand that no matter what he does, you love him and will never leave him.”

      A flush moved up his neck, while his gaze slid down to his clenched hands.

      Suspicion flickered. “You have told Zach you love him, haven’t you, Mr. Porter?”

      “I’m his father. He knows how I feel.”

      She leaned forward over the desk to emphasize her point. “Everyone needs to hear the words—no matter how much you think it’s understood. Especially children.”

      Visibly agitated, Nathan stood to pace the small enclosure. “It’s not easy to profess love to a child who constantly screams ‘I hate you.’”

      Compassion welled within her, and inexplicably Paige found herself wanting to comfort this man, to ease his pain in some small way.

      “Of course it isn’t easy,” she said. “But you, as the adult, have to rise above his outbursts. Sometimes a simple hug during a tantrum will defuse the situation. And right now Zach needs all the hugs he can get.”

      Nathan stopped pacing, his back to her. His rigid stance and lack of response told Paige there was something much deeper blocking his relationship with his son.

      She jotted down a few notes on her pad of paper before posing another difficult question. “I have to ask, Mr. Porter...were there problems in your marriage?”

      His back muscles visibly stiffened before he turned to pin her with an icy glare. “That is a very personal question, Miss McFarlane. And quite presumptuous, I might add.”

      Heat crept into her cheeks, but she didn’t allow her gaze to falter. “If you want to help Zach, you need to be honest about the state of your relationship, both before and after your wife’s death.”

      Paige could almost feel the war of emotions surging underneath the surface as Nathan contemplated her words. Finally, his shoulders slumped, and his whole body seemed to deflate. “I will do whatever it takes to help my son.”

      She offered him a smile of encouragement as he resumed his seat, and waited for him to speak.

      He stared at the floor for several moments, then at last raised his head to look at her. “Cynthia and I separated six months before she died.”

      Paige’s stomach dipped. Poor Zach. How much upheaval had he endured in his young life? “I see.” She schooled her expression, hoping her dismay didn’t show. “Was Zach living with his mother during this time?”

      “Yes. She moved out and got an apartment.”

      Odd. Usually the mother and child stayed in the family home. “How often did you get to see Zach during the separation?”

      Again Nathan’s gaze slid away. “About once a month.”

      Paige blinked. “Why so little?”

      She

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