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When the teacher adjourns the meeting, I make my way through the mob. I’m almost to the door when a hand on my shoulder stops me. “Are you still mad at me about the hair comment?”
I turn to face the jerk’s chest, my eyes traveling up his thick throat and across his scruffy chin to his face. He wears an aura of sadness that makes me want to know more about him. Alarm bells ring in my head, warning me to stay away from this man. “How can I be mad at you when I don’t even know you?”
He cocks his head, those glacier eyes seeing right through me. “We can remedy that. I’m Will Darby.” When I don’t respond, he prompts me, “And you are?”
“Leaving. Goodbye, Will Darby,” I say and slip through the crowd as I make my escape to the safety of my car.
I push the speed limit on the way home, putting as much distance as possible between Will Darby and me. His pained face haunts me. He’s suffering as much as I am, but whatever his story, I don’t need any more trouble.
FOURTEEN
WILL
From the list of psychiatrists Vanessa provides, I choose the one she recommends most highly. Since she lives twenty minutes away in Beaufort, she may be unfamiliar with my illustrious family. If I’m going to paint my life’s story to a virtual stranger, I prefer to start with a blank canvas and be the one holding the brush.
A member of Vanessa’s staff schedules the appointment for me for the following morning. I arrive at a stunning historic waterfront estate on the Beaufort River. I assume I’ve been given the wrong address, but I ring the doorbell anyway, and I’m surprised when the doctor answers the door.
“Welcome. I’m Clementine Montgomery, but everyone calls me Clemmy.”
Her physical appearance is befitting a woman with an old-fashioned name like Clementine. She’s plump with rosy cheeks, and silver hair fastened loosely atop her head. She reminds me of Mrs. Claus or the Pillsbury dough girl. Her soft smile and twinkling blue eyes immediately set me at ease, an effect I’ve rarely experienced from a stranger.
I extend my hand to her. “Very nice to meet you, Clemmy. I’m Will Darby.”
“Let’s go to my office and get better acquainted.”
As I follow her through the house to the veranda, I take in the priceless antiques and artwork adorning the center hallway. If she makes this kind of money counseling patients, I’m in the wrong profession.
A sitting area occupies the end of the porch nearest the water and includes a daybed swing, the proverbial shrink’s couch. I choose to sit in a comfortable wicker lounger and the therapist sits down on the sofa next to me.
“I hope you don’t mind my unconventional office. The water has a tranquilizing effect on the mind,” Clemmy says as she pours sweet tea from a pitcher into two glasses of ice.
I stare out at the river. “Not at all. It is very peaceful here. And your home is lovely.”
She hands me a glass of tea. “Tell me about yourself, Will Darby.”
“I . . .um . . . I’m not sure where to start. Did Vanessa explain my situation?”
“She did not. I prefer to get to know you myself,” Clemmy says, and settles back on the sofa.
I take a sip of tea and set the glass down on the coffee table. “Well, let’s see. I’m a custom home builder and I have two daughters, ages two and four, Sophie and Caroline respectively.”
Clemmy smiles. “Little girls are so sweet. How does their mother fit in the picture?”
“She died in a boating accident last summer.”
Her breath hitches. “Oh goodness. I’m so sorry. Since you’re working with Vanessa, I assumed you were involved in a custody dispute with your wife.”
“My case is a little more complicated. The custody dispute is with Tracy’s parents, my in-laws.”
Her expression turns serious. “A judge would never take children away from their biological father without probable cause. And an attorney would be hesitant to represent the grandparents unless they have reason to believe they can win custody. What do they have against you, Will?”
My eyes fall to my lap. “They claim I have anger management issues.”
She leans in closer to me. “Do you?”
I’m taken aback by her abruptness. “I admit I have a short fuse at times. That’s the way I’m wired. But it’s not as bad as everyone is making it out to be.”
“Who is everyone, Will?” When I hesitate, she says, “I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth.”
