Patchworked Hearts {SAMPLE}

Chapter 14

Three days later found Helen doing a load of laundry in her apartment, with Ginger weaving in and out between her legs and the lively sound of Creedence Clearwater Revival coming out of her Bluetooth speakers.

"I ain't no fortunate son~" she sang, bobbing her head to the fast-paced rhythm and doing a little shuffle with her feet, laughing when Ginger hissed and jumped out of the way.

"Sorry," she apologized once she had calmed. "Sometimes you just gotta dance though, right?"

Ginger didn't seem to think so, if the sassy swish of her tail as she slunk out of the laundry room was any indication.

"Alright, alright, I get it," Helen shook her head with amusement, flipping on the dryer before snatching up the now-empty hamper and her phone, and then treading back down the hall to her bedroom.

As she went, she let her eyes trace over the kitchen and living room, the latter of which now possessed a couch covered in sheets, blankets, and pillows. Entering her room and dropping the hamper beside her bed, Helen blew out a tired sigh.

She'd gotten a call the previous day from Katrina, and her cousin had greeted her with the words, "I'll be there in two to six days." Right, because Helen was always at home and awaiting her cousin's arrival.

She had dressed the couch up already, since she was hardly home enough to use it, but she had no plans nor desire to sit at home and wait for Katrina to knock on the door.

Maybe I would have before, she mused inwardly as she stepped into the kitchen and set a kettle full of water on the stove. But now I have other things to keep me busy.

Things like a six-foot-four sweetheart of a man, who Helen hadn't seen for the past two days and was antsy to reunite with.

He'd sat in the waiting room during her appointment with Anderson and had shot up the moment she'd exited the room with downcast eyes and a frown. "Did it go alright?" he'd murmured into her ear, eyeing Anderson carefully.

When she'd nodded, he'd relaxed, thanked Anderson, and then brought her back to her apartment, where he stayed the night and took her to work the next morning. Being with Pat had been great (she was thankful that Ginger liked him, too), and it had been especially nice after the session with Anderson, which had been, well . . . not so great.

Granted, it would probably end up being the best session, since it had consisted mainly of "getting to know you" questions from Anderson. The other man, probably in his early fifties, had even provided information about himself, telling her about his wife, three adult children, two dogs, and nosy neighbor named Shawn, who often critiqued Anderson's yard.

It was after the introductions that things had gotten tense, solely because Anderson began to ask about her past, her deceased family, her nightmares, and the ways she dealt with Cecily's death. Upon hearing what Helen had to say, Anderson had nodded, smiled kindly, and then laid out a schedule "to help you best work through the troubles that still plague you."

Helen appreciated his clever wordplay, if nothing else.

So, with appointments set for every Thursday after work and a paper full of breathing exercises and other healthy coping methods, Helen had retreated into Pat's embrace and tried to come with terms with all the changes happening in her life.

Things will get better, she reminded herself, snapping out of her thoughts when the kettle on the stove began to whistle. It might take a while, but they will.

Of course, today things were going well, and they would hopefully be even better later.

Not only because it was Sunday, but because she would be going to see Pat. He didn't work on the weekends much, she'd learned; Saturdays he only worked if he felt like it, and he always took off on Sundays.