Page 43 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

The Therapy

Catherine POV

It took four weeks, and eight sessions before Catherine opted to do something else other than greet Cara Guzzi from the floor. The therapist barely batted a lash at the sight of Catherine sitting on the bench in the window nook that overlooked the back property.

“Anything to see out there?” Cara asked.

The woman opted to stand rather than take a seat beside Catherine.

“Not at the moment,” Catherine said. “All the snow should be gone by now, but it’s not.”

Cara gave Catherine one of her soft, warm smiles. “So, what exactly does it look like to you?”

Catherine looked out the window again, and took in the property. She chose to say the first things that came to her mind at the sight, and not filter her words like she might with someone else. Cara didn’t like when Catherine filtered her thoughts and feelings.

“Cold and barren. There’s no one out there, and none of the things that usually decorate our yard. The snow is far beyond the pretty point of winter—you know, when it’s clean and bright, and sparkles somedays. Now, it’s at that ugly stage where you can see everything it has killed as it made its way in. It’s like the weather can’t decide if it wants to be winter or spring right now.”

“And so what does that do?”

“Well, it leaves you with a mess.”

Cara laughed softly. “Or, you could be seeing something incredible at work here. Say … a new start. A recharge, or a rebirth. The beginning stages of healing that a colder, lonelier time has left behind.”

Catherine snuck a glance at Cara. She didn’t think the woman was only talking about the snow and yard anymore. Cara did things like that quite often—delivered cryptic words meant to be advice. Catherine found herself spending days deciphering things Cara had told her.

On more than one occasion …

“Did you try to do what we talked about during our last session?” Cara asked.

“I seriously considered it.”

Cara openly frowned—something she didn’t do very often. “But it sounds like perhaps you didn’t actually follow through.”

“No.” Catherine looked toward the entryway. “Where are my parents today?”

“I believe your father said he was going to take your mother out for lunch. Don’t worry, no one is listening in on our conversation, Catherine.”

“No one ever does,” Catherine replied. “You make sure of that.”

Cara smiled. “I’m glad you trust me enough to believe that I will continue to keep that promise because I will.”

Well, truthfully, at the moment, Cara was the only person Catherine trusted. She was the only person Catherine currently felt comfortable enough to have a conversation with that went deeper than the things on the surface of her life.

No one wanted to push Catherine.

Everyone was scared of hurting her.

The silence in her home was sometimes deafening. Not that she blamed her parents, or the rest of her family. What could they really do or say for her when they couldn’t possibly understand her? It wasn’t like she gave them anything to go on.

It was what it was.

“What stopped you from talking to Dante and Catrina?”

Catherine shrugged, and looked back at the window. Shoving her hands under her armpits, she wished in that moment that her oversized sweater would just swallow her whole.

Where she couldn’t be seen …

Where she didn’t have to talk, or think … or hurt.