Dustin walked into Sam O’Leary’s office at 7:00 p.m.
The bald elderly gentleman looked up from the papers on his desk. “Have a seat on the sofa, Doc.”
Sam always looked so distinguished with his white beard and piercing blue eyes, and he had a kind and understanding face that made it easy for most to open up to him.
But not for Dustin, who found it hard to let his walls down with anyone, but he’d promised Paris’s dad he would at least try counseling with Sam. Also, knowing that Mick was going to propose to Paris pushed him all the more.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment, but I knew if I didn’t come now I never would.”
Sam nodded. “I understand, Doc. It’s very hard for some people, especially men, to ask for advice, thinking it is a sign of weakness. But it’s not. It’s a sign of courage and real strength. Remember, I’m eighty-five years old. Pretend I’m your grandfather, and we’re just having a nice talk. I’ve been around the block many times. And there’s nothing I haven’t experienced or heard in my profession. Whatever we say here is strictly confidential.” The man stood and walked to a coffee pot sitting on a table behind him. “I could use a cup of coffee. How about you?”
“Yes, sir. That would be great, but won’t that be difficult if I’m lying down?”
Sam laughed. “You’ve seen too many movies about therapy, Doc. If you’d like to stretch out on the couch, that’s your choice, but I’m betting sitting up would be more comfortable for you.”
“You’d win that bet.”
“Cream or sugar or both?”
“Black.”
Sam came around the desk and handed him a cup. He took the seat next to the sofa Dustin was sitting on. “What’s on your mind, son?”
Dustin took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure where to begin.
“I’ll tell you what’s on my mind. Those cookies Ethel made this morning. My favorite. Chocolate chip. Delicious.” Sam stood again. “Would you like one with your coffee? Or maybe two or three?”
Dustin smiled. The old guy was likely just trying to put him at ease, and it sure was working. “Yes. Three would be great. Chocolate chip is my favorite, too.”
“I remember. Somehow you always knew when Ethel was making them and we got a knock on the door every time she fired up the oven. Now, look at you. You’re a grown man and an amazing doctor.”
“I don’t know about being amazing, sir.”
“Why would you say something like that, Dustin?” Sam handed him the three promised cookies.
“That’s actually why I’m here.”
“Oh, I see. Tell me more.”
“I don’t know, sir, where to begin. I’ve only shared this with Dr. Cottrell. In fact it was him who suggested I come to you.”
“Did Ed tell you why he thought you should come see me?”
“Yes, sir. He told me when his wife died you helped him immensely with his struggles.”
“You know the truth is, he actually helped himself, like most of the people I see do. Generally the answers are right in front of us, Dustin, but sometimes there’s this big door that blocks our view. Is that the way it is with you?”
“Maybe. Perhaps you can help me sort this out and open that door. When I was in residency—” His cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw the call was from the clinic. “Sorry, Sam. I need to take this.”
“Of course.”
“Hello.”
“Doc, this is Katy. Amber Stone just came in with her husbands. Her labor pains are one minute apart.”
“I’ll be right there. Call Paris.”
“Yes, sir.”