Christmas Therapy
Page 106
“You sound depressed.”
Allen rubbed at his forehead. He lost his appetite. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Start from the beginning.” His father moved in his chair to face his son. “Woman problems still?”
“This time Crystal’s back. We're still married.”
His father’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought she didn't know you anymore.”
“She remembers now.”
“Since when?”
“Since now. She’s staying at the bed-and-breakfast in town, so I'm meeting her to find out what happened.”
“What about the new woman in your life?”
Allen made a steeple with his fingers and pressed them to his lips. “I love her.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Why's that?”
“You weren't the same after Crystal, but you seem happier now.”
Allen sighed. “Heather doesn’t trust me. She thinks there’s still something between Crystal and I.”
“Is there?” his father asked.
He rubbed at his chin. “She’s still beautiful, but that’s only the surface. I felt… nothing.”
“I remember how much you loved her.”
He did. He had made a vow, but she wanted to leave. The accident changed everything. Could he repair his relationship with Crystal despite his feelings for Heather?
Heather. How would he choose? Would she respect him for making things work with Crystal? Would it come to that? Allen blinked. He needed to talk to Crystal. He could decide from there. “I don't want to lose her.”
“Who?” his father asked.
Allen sighed. “Heather.”
“Remember what your mother used to tell you?”
Allen rested his chin on the base of his palm, recalling his mother’s words of wisdom. It was moments like this he would come to her when he needed advice. Despite her death, he was glad he and his father remained close. “Fear only has power when you give into it.”
“I know you’ll do what's right,” his father said.
Allen nodded and took a bite from his sandwich. No sense in wasting tasty food.
“I think I want to go fishing.” His father gestured to his fishing pole in the room’s corner.
“You’re cleared for physical activity?”
“Doctor said so at my last checkup when I’m feeling up to it.” He shrugged. “I’m up to it.”
“It’s winter though. Who fishes before Christmas?”
His father raised a thick eyebrow. “I do.”