Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

his patients. He’d been known to ruffle a few feathers along the way, but had still somehow made it up the chain of command. While paroxetine wasn’t addictive, like the benzodiazepine family of medications, he still felt it was safer to reduce the dosage gradually while maintaining a regular therapy schedule as they progressed.

In the two years since Miles had first been seen by other doctors, the man had gotten engaged and then married to a wonderful woman who knew exactly what he was battling. And, thank heavens, this man hadn’t shown the agitation and anger issues that Clint’s dad had.

“Let’s knock it down from sixty milligrams a day to twenty and go from there.” He grabbed his prescription pad and wrote out a new dosage recommendation. “We’ll maintain our sessions, and in a couple of weeks, if all goes well, we’ll reduce them even more. How does that sound?”

Miles sat back in his chair, his posture relaxed and open. “It sounds like living. Thanks, Doc.”

For the next forty-five minutes they went through the new father’s moods and actions, detailing where he’d struggled, while Clint made notes he would transcribe later. Together they made a plan on how to deal with the next several weeks, when having a new baby at home would put more stress on both him and the family.

When they finally parted, he opened the office door to let Miles out and his glance immediately connected with Jessi and her mom, who’d arrived fifteen minutes early for their session with Chelsea. He nodded at the pair, walking Miles over to his assistant’s desk and giving a few last-minute instructions on scheduling.

Taking a deep breath, he finally turned and made his way over to the pair in his waiting area. Jessi, dressed in a casual white-flowered dress that stretched snugly across her top and waist, stood to her feet. Flat, strappy sandals showed off pink toenails and dainty feet. He swallowed when he realized he’d been staring. All his misgivings from earlier came roaring back. He shoved them aside.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he muttered, his voice a little gruffer than he’d expected. But seeing Jessi up close and personal created this choking sensation that closed off the upper part of his throat.

Her mom was the one to break the stare-fest. “We were a little early, at my insistence. I’m anxious to see my granddaughter.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Abigail was in a pair of jeans with a white button-down shirt. At almost sixty, she was still a beautiful woman, with high cheekbones and eyes very like her daughter’s. And her granddaughter’s, for that matter.

“Do you want to meet in my office or head down to Chelsea’s room? Jessi gave a little shrug, no longer attempting to look directly at him. Maybe she felt as uncomfortable as he was about this meeting. “Wherever you feel is best.”

Her mom spoke up again. “I haven’t seen Chelsea’s room. Do you think she would mind if we met her there? I’m curious about where she’s been staying.” She blinked a couple of times. “Not that I’m saying there’s anything wrong with the hospital. It looks modern and well cared for.”

Not what she’d expected. She didn’t say the words, but he could imagine her thoughts.

The VA’s reputation had taken a beating in the press over the last year. And not without reason, but the corruption was slowly being weeded out, and Clint hoped the end result would be a system of hospitals the country’s servicemen and women could be proud of.

Clint had done his best to make sure his patients received the best treatment possible. And he knew there were a lot of other dedicated doctors who also cared deeply about their patients. The waiting lists were staggering, and, yes, it would probably be much easier to find work in the civilian sector for better pay and a lighter workload. But that wasn’t why he did what he did.

“You’re fine,” he assured Abigail. He turned to his assistant. “Could you call down to Chelsea’s room and let her know we’re on our way?”

“Of course, Doctor.” She picked up her phone and dialed as Clint nodded toward the hallway to their right. “Jessi, you know the way.”

She stood and slung the strap of her purse over her arm, making sure her mother was following her. She glanced back at him. “Any last-minute instructions?”

“No. Chelsea’s been more open, as I told you over the phone. I think that’s an encouraging sign.” Not that they’d made definitive steps in her treatment. The new class of antidepressants he’d prescribed was kicking in, though, so he had hopes that as the fog of despair continued to lift, she would start looking to the future, instead of crouching in the past. They had yet to talk about the specifics surrounding her months in captivity. She’d reiterated that she hadn’t been tortured or assaulted, but as to what exactly had happened during that time, there was still a large swath of information that was missing. Clint had even tried going through channels and seeing if her superior officers knew anything more. But they were what Clint would label as “careful” with their words. It hadn’t been anything in particular that was or wasn’t said. It had just been the way the information had been delivered. And every story had been told in an identical fashion.

For Clint, that fact alone raised a huge red flag.

“Nana!” he heard the greeting even before he reached the room. And the happiness in that one word was apparent. As was the sight of the two women embracing, while Jessi stood back to allow the reunion to happen.

“How’s she really doing?” she asked him in a low voice as Abigail sat on the edge of the bed, her arm around her granddaughter.

“Just like I said. She’s talking more.”

“Any idea yet on the why?”

The why of the suicide attempt.

“We haven’t made it that far, yet.”

The exchange ended when Abigail waved her daughter over. “Doesn’t she look wonderful?”

She didn’t,