Author's Note:
Welcome back readers. This is the second chapter in what I think will be a three-chapter arc in Jeremy's life. Thank you so much for continuing to read, and vote, and sometimes comment on my story. It's incredibly rewarding, and I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep churning out chapters as quickly as I'd like. Hopefully, the quality is improving, even if the delivery is slowing down.
About the story: This series covers the entirety of a man's life, with gaps thrown in along the way to keep it moving. I set out to see how my protagonist changes over his life as his experiences shape him. If you haven't read earlier chapters, you probably won't recognize some characters or references that are made, so I recommend you begin in chapter 1 and go from there. Most of the chapters are only 4-5 pages long on the screen, so they don't take forever to get through.
One change from the last chapter. Jeremy's canine companion was supposed to be a basset hound, not a beagle. Similar dogs and coloring, but I always think of beagles as more happy and energetic dogs, while the basset always looks to be very sad. Sorry for the bad imagery. He wasn't a big part of chapter 11, but he has more of a role here, so I wanted to clear that up.
Readers familiar with this series know that some chapters are sex-heavy, and others have no sex in them. This one has an extended sex scene in it. I hope it tickles your fancy.
- MB
As always, any sexual activity takes place between adults.
*****
Jeremy snuggled his head into the soft swell of her breasts. She idly stroked his hair while watching him sleep. He didn't want to wake up, but it was already mid-morning and the sun was filling the room with its warmth and brightness. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked into her face. Seeing that he was awake, she smiled. "Hey," she softly said.
"Hey," he said, as a smile automatically rose to his face.
He bent his head and began to place small kisses on her breasts. "Oh no, don't get started with that," she said, sliding away from him. She planted a tender kiss on his lips and sadly said, "I don't have much time, and there are things I need to say to you."
A tear leaked from his eye as he sat up and asked, "Can't we just stay here? I miss you and Joshua so much."
Ava placed her hand on his cheek and smiled at him warmly. "I miss you, too, my darling. Joshua does as well. But we both know that can't happen." She grabbed his hands and held them tightly. "I need to tell you something, and I want you to make me a promise. Okay?"
Through his tears, Jeremy nodded his assent.
"Jeremy, you brought more love and joy into my life than I ever dreamed possible. I loved every minute of every day that we were together. But that time is gone now, my love. And while we are gone from you now, you still have a life to live. You have it within you to give yourself completely and to share your love with more than one woman at a time. I saw it, and I loved you for it. Here's the promise I need you to make: find someone who will love you the way that I love you. You can't go on like this, and I don't want you to try. It doesn't mean that you've forgotten or replaced me. If anything, it just means that you're happy, and that's all I've ever wanted for you. Will you promise me that you'll try?"
In his grief, his words came out in a strangled whisper. "There'll never be another you. But I promise I'll look for her. And if I find her, I'll make sure she knows how high the bar was set by my amazing first wife, my first love."
She smiled at his words and said, "I know you will, Jeremy. You wouldn't be you, if you didn't." Then she leaned forward, kissed his lips once again, and said, "I have to go now."
Jeremy panicked and grabbed at her hands, pleading with her to stay a little longer. She shook her head sadly, saying, "It doesn't work like that, sweetheart. I need to go, and you need to live. It's time to wake up." Then she stood up and walked a few steps away. She turned to him and said, "I will always love you. And I will see you again someday." Then she blew him a kiss, and like a wisp of smoke, dissipated into nothingness.
Once again, Baxter was watching him when he woke up. And once again, he had a doleful expression on his face. This morning, though, it seemed to sympathize with Jeremy, saying, "I know it's hard, but we'll get through this, okay?"
Jeremy reached over and scratched his basset's head and ears, and said, "Good morning, Bax. Hey, guess what?" Baxter picked up on the excitement in his master's voice, and his tail thumped in anticipation. "I saw Ava last night." Almost as if he were shocked at hearing that name, Baxter cocked his head expectedly. Jeremy continued, "She told me a lot of things. But she made me promise to find someone to love. She gave me permission."
Baxter wagged his tail in response, but otherwise, had nothing more to say on the matter. Jeremy swung his legs over the side of the bed, then leaned over to pet his canine companion once more. Softly he said, "I don't know if I'm ready, buddy, but she's right. I've got to try." Then he stood up, threw on the pair of shorts and t-shirt he'd been wearing before bed the previous night, and said to Baxter, "Now, let's go get you something to eat!"
Baxter's excited scramble off the bed indicated that he thought that was a good idea.
*****
It had been an interesting week for Jeremy, if for no other reason than that he wasn't used to not having to be at an appointed place at a designated time each day. He'd submitted his resume to Monica on Monday, but he hadn't heard anything back. Of the three grief counselors he'd identified over the previous weekend, only two had been able to get him appointments this week. And he had a date with Erin tonight, Thursday. As he ate his sausage and oatmeal, Jeremy thought about his attempts at grief counseling. His week off was almost at an end, and he wanted to feel like he was in a better place before he headed back.
The two counselors that Jeremy visited could not have been more different. The first, April Cheung, was a diminutive woman of Chinese descent. She tried, and Jeremy appreciated the effort. But between her dark gray suit over a white silk blouse, and the spacious office with its modern furnishings in dark wood and chrome, he thought it a rather cold environment. He didn't feel any personal warmth from Ms. Cheung as she described her method, and he spent more than a few distracted minutes trying to discern her age. He'd always been fascinated with the subtle aging process of Asian women, how they didn't seem to age substantially for many years and then seemed to burst into old age. He guessed she was probably in her late forties or early fifties, but he wasn't a great judge. At the end of his session, he'd thanked her for her time and didn't make a follow-up appointment.
Later that same day, he'd visited the office of L. Huntington Parker. The contrast could not have been more striking if it was intentional. The first difference was that Hunt was a tall man, lanky without being gangly. Where Ms. Cheung barely made five feet, he was probably 6'4" or 6'5". The next thing Jeremy noted was that, while he was clearly pushing seventy years or more, there was still a spark in his eyes to match his rather unkempt appearance. Hunt was probably a few days past his last shave, and more than a few days past his last haircut. He had sandy blonde hair that had streaks of gray in it, but he wore it longer than would be considered "professional" for sure. He wore faded blue jeans with a pair of low-top hikers; Jeremy had a pair just like them in his closet at home. His maroon, long-sleeved corduroy shirt was worn with the sleeves rolled and the buttons undone, revealing a faded black concert shirt for a band Jeremy had never heard of.
"You must be Jeremy," he said, extending his hand.
Jeremy shook his hand. "That's me, Mr. Parker." His hand swallowed Jeremy's, and it reminded the younger man of Ava's father. That similarity, and the man's obvious warmth, immediately drew Jeremy in and made him feel comfortable.
The older man chuckled and said, "Please, call me Hunt. Everyone does." Then he guided Jeremy to his office. Unlike the clean, almost sterile environment that Ms. Cheung counseled in, Hunt's office was arranged almost like a hotel suite. Entering the room, Jeremy was greeted with a pair of overstuffed couches and a recliner surrounding a low, oblong shaped coffee table in cherry wood finish. The floor in the office was covered in wide hardwood planks, but the seating area had a large Turkish area rug in rich blues, reds, and yellows. If the entire office was a rectangle, the seating area occupied the foot of an L shape formed by the walls creating a bathroom. Much of the long part of the L was occupied by Hunt's private office, separated from the seating area by white French doors. Through the doors, Jeremy was amused to see that it was a study in organized chaos. Heavy bookcases covered most of the walls that weren't occupied by his desk and associated cabinets. Stacks of papers and books covered most of the horizonal surfaces in the room.
Hunt saw where he was looking and apologetically said, "I've never quite cottoned to good housekeeping. I hire good people to clean out here, but my office is off limits. There, I'm on my own. Coffee?" He indicated a single-serve brewer on a sideboard. When Jeremy said that he did, Hunt said, "Help yourself. Mugs are in the left-hand cabinet below. If you need cream or sugar, they're in the drawer, along with spoons."
Seeing the look of surprise on Jeremy's face, he laughed and said, "I'm not here to
serve
you, Jeremy. I'm here to
help
you." Somehow, that actually made Jeremy like him even more.
After they'd each gotten some coffee, Hunt said they should take a seat and get started. "How about you describe what you're going through?" he suggested. Jeremy told him about the crash that had claimed the lives of his wife and son, and how he'd been struggling to deal with feelings of anger and sadness, loneliness, and even guilt, for the past year. He mentioned how he'd unknowingly withdrawn from his coworkers, and the other problems that had begun to creep up in his work, culminating in his being ordered to seek therapy.
Throughout his explanation, Hunt sipped his coffee and listened attentively, but he didn't write anything down or ask any clarifying questions. Jeremy was surprised by this and asked him about it.
Hunt took a sip of his coffee, and then said, "Let me tell you a little about how I work, Jeremy. I've been working in grief counseling for a long time. I've worked a lot with first responders, police, and military personnel. What I've found over time is that these are people who are used to making decisions, being in control of themselves and their emotions. They don't like coming to therapy, and they don't like giving up that control. That feels like weakness to them. If I'm taking a bunch of notes and asking a bunch of questions, that takes that control away and makes them feel like I'm not really listening. So, I make it a point to hold off on too many questions until we've had a chance to get to know each other and establish a relationship of trust. Then I will ask you some questions to help guide you along. Does that make sense?"
"Sure."
"The other thing you need to know," said Hunt, "is that these sessions are recorded, video and audio. After our session, I'll review the footage and make notes about my observations and see if I can determine the best approach for us to take to get you feeling better. Are you okay with that? I'm the only one who sees them."
