need to work on your people skills, my man. That, and you need to cool off.”
Luke swiped his face with his palm. He was surprised when it came away with sweat. “Guess I got worked up.”
“Worked up?” Jerry harrumphed, went over to the coffeemaker and poured them both a mug of black coffee. “We need to talk.”
Luke’s eyes nailed Jerry’s. “You firing me?” Luke’s hand shook when he took the mug from his boss.
“No.” Jerry leaned against the blueprint table and hoisted one leg over the edge. “This,” Jerry said, nodding toward the phone, “isn’t about some missing boards.” Luke opened his mouth to make a retort, but Jerry held up his hand. “I’ll take care of the lumber company. Or the thief in our own midst, if that’s the case. But right now, you need to talk to me.”
Luke lowered his gaze to the muddy wood floor and was struck by the fact that this company had become more than just a paycheck to him. His work was physical, creative and demanding, and it had kept him from losing his mind over the past two years.
“I don’t know what to do, Jerry. I should have pulled out of this by now. I shouldn’t be feeling this God-awful ripping and shredding I seem to go through every single freaking day,” he said, punching himself in the stomach. “And it’s gotten worse in the past six months or so. I think about Jenny all the time. All the time.”
“I know,” Jerry said, looking down into his mug.
“I’m hurting my kids,” Luke continued. “Half the time I don’t even know they’re around. The other half, I’m barking at them, criticizing them for stupid little things they did or didn’t do. They’re just kids, for cripes’ sake. It’s gotten so bad that they’re changing their behavior because of my outbursts. They hang their heads a lot and don’t look at me. I see Annie giving Timmy hand signals not to talk about certain things when she thinks the subject will upset me. Annie’s built this tent in her room out of blankets and chairs and whatnot, where she goes and hides when I get angry or talk about the bills. God. The bills.” Luke raked his hair. “You can’t imagine how tough it is to make ends meet.”
Jerry stood up, put his coffee mug down and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. From underneath his driver’s license, he pulled out a crumpled business card. “I’ve been saving this for you for two years. I knew eventually this moment would come. When you would need help, I mean.”
Luke took the card and read it. He burst into sarcastic laughter. “A shrink? I just told you I can’t afford peanut butter! Forget it.”
“Margot is a friend of my wife’s. She runs a free bereavement counseling group on Wednesday nights. I can get all the details for you. It’s not as good as a one-on-one, but that can be expensive.”
“Free, huh?”
“You’ll like Margot. She’s brilliant and compassionate.”
Luke looked down at the card. “I’ll think about it.”
Jerry picked up his coffee. “Luke. You can’t go on like you’ve been. I’ve had complaints from some of the guys in the crews about your drill-sergeant tactics with them. Something has to change, Luke. You have to change. This is eating you up.”
Luke’s eyes bored straight into Jerry’s face. “You’re right. That’s exactly how I feel. Physically sick inside.” He looked at the card. “I’ll give her a call.”
Jerry walked over to the desk and lifted the receiver, shoving it toward Luke. “Good idea.”
* * *
S ARAH ARRIVED AT the cheery meeting room in the library, carrying a dozen cupcakes from Maddie Strong’s café. She met Margot Benner, the counselor who would be leading the bereavement group, a bright, happy-looking woman in her mid-fifties with streaked, blond hair that she wore in a French braid.
“Thank you for the cupcakes, Sarah,” Margot said, motioning toward a refreshment table under a bank of huge windows that looked out onto the library’s
Luke swiped his face with his palm. He was surprised when it came away with sweat. “Guess I got worked up.”
“Worked up?” Jerry harrumphed, went over to the coffeemaker and poured them both a mug of black coffee. “We need to talk.”
Luke’s eyes nailed Jerry’s. “You firing me?” Luke’s hand shook when he took the mug from his boss.
“No.” Jerry leaned against the blueprint table and hoisted one leg over the edge. “This,” Jerry said, nodding toward the phone, “isn’t about some missing boards.” Luke opened his mouth to make a retort, but Jerry held up his hand. “I’ll take care of the lumber company. Or the thief in our own midst, if that’s the case. But right now, you need to talk to me.”
Luke lowered his gaze to the muddy wood floor and was struck by the fact that this company had become more than just a paycheck to him. His work was physical, creative and demanding, and it had kept him from losing his mind over the past two years.
“I don’t know what to do, Jerry. I should have pulled out of this by now. I shouldn’t be feeling this God-awful ripping and shredding I seem to go through every single freaking day,” he said, punching himself in the stomach. “And it’s gotten worse in the past six months or so. I think about Jenny all the time. All the time.”
“I know,” Jerry said, looking down into his mug.
“I’m hurting my kids,” Luke continued. “Half the time I don’t even know they’re around. The other half, I’m barking at them, criticizing them for stupid little things they did or didn’t do. They’re just kids, for cripes’ sake. It’s gotten so bad that they’re changing their behavior because of my outbursts. They hang their heads a lot and don’t look at me. I see Annie giving Timmy hand signals not to talk about certain things when she thinks the subject will upset me. Annie’s built this tent in her room out of blankets and chairs and whatnot, where she goes and hides when I get angry or talk about the bills. God. The bills.” Luke raked his hair. “You can’t imagine how tough it is to make ends meet.”
Jerry stood up, put his coffee mug down and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. From underneath his driver’s license, he pulled out a crumpled business card. “I’ve been saving this for you for two years. I knew eventually this moment would come. When you would need help, I mean.”
Luke took the card and read it. He burst into sarcastic laughter. “A shrink? I just told you I can’t afford peanut butter! Forget it.”
“Margot is a friend of my wife’s. She runs a free bereavement counseling group on Wednesday nights. I can get all the details for you. It’s not as good as a one-on-one, but that can be expensive.”
“Free, huh?”
“You’ll like Margot. She’s brilliant and compassionate.”
Luke looked down at the card. “I’ll think about it.”
Jerry picked up his coffee. “Luke. You can’t go on like you’ve been. I’ve had complaints from some of the guys in the crews about your drill-sergeant tactics with them. Something has to change, Luke. You have to change. This is eating you up.”
Luke’s eyes bored straight into Jerry’s face. “You’re right. That’s exactly how I feel. Physically sick inside.” He looked at the card. “I’ll give her a call.”
Jerry walked over to the desk and lifted the receiver, shoving it toward Luke. “Good idea.”
* * *
S ARAH ARRIVED AT the cheery meeting room in the library, carrying a dozen cupcakes from Maddie Strong’s café. She met Margot Benner, the counselor who would be leading the bereavement group, a bright, happy-looking woman in her mid-fifties with streaked, blond hair that she wore in a French braid.
“Thank you for the cupcakes, Sarah,” Margot said, motioning toward a refreshment table under a bank of huge windows that looked out onto the library’s
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