Page 105 of Nothing Less than Magic
“No one understands that better than I do.” I wrap my arms around her. “I’m so happy for you, Ronnie. I’m going to miss you like crazy, but I’m thrilled for you.”
“And you,” Ronnie says. “Private practice? When did this all come about?”
“When I realized I wasn’t happy anymore. When I realized this”—I gaze around the office at the small empire I built—“isn’t who I am anymore. I started out with the simple goal of helping people, and I believe I can do that better one on one.”
She nods, a world of understanding in her eyes. “I don’t think you’ve been that into it for a while. Even before the accident. Are you going to keep this office?” She takes a visual lap around the room. “You’ve got me for two more weeks. If you want, I can help you turn this into the waiting room, and we can tweak your office to better accommodate patients. Get some comfy sofas, that kind of thing.”
“Thank you, Ronnie. But I’ve decided to start from scratch.” I think about JoAnn Sands’s cheery Victorian cottage, about the muted colors and nature pictures on her walls, how it felt more like a home than a therapist’s office. “I’ll start looking next week.”
For now, I need a minute to breathe.
Part 3
Dreams are often the most profound when they seem the most crazy.
—Sigmund Freud
Chapter 28
“Hey, you’ll get eaten alive out here.”
I feel warm hands on my shoulders, shaking me. “What? Get off of me!” I’m startled awake, and my hammock sways, then pitches to one side before I right it without falling out.
“Whoa, whoa.” The man holds his hands up in the air and backs away. “I come in peace.”
It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings. Then it all rushes back to me in Technicolor. I’ve come to the cabin to regroup. To breathe before starting over. Lolly and the kids are coming for a whole weekend.
I pull myself up into a sitting position and stare at the man standing in front of me. He looks vaguely familiar, but in my hazy state, I can’t place him. And we’re here . . . alone. The nearest neighbor is a good half mile away.
“Do I know you?” I feel like I’ve been here before, like I had this same encounter just a day or so again, like I’m experiencing a severe case of déjà vu.
He tilts his head to the side and looks at me like I’m a little off my rocker before saying, “I’m Leo Antonelli. Austin hired me to fix your roof.”
And then it hits me where I recognize him from. That strange plaid tie. “It’s you! You’re the guy from the Top of the Mark! The one sitting at the bar alone. The one with the . . . tie.”
He’s looking at me with a patient grin on his face, like maybe he thinks I’ve lost it.
“It was in October, right before Halloween,” I try to explain, digging myself in deeper, making myself look even nuttier than he probably already thinks I am. “You were at the Mark Hopkins. I remember because Austin thought you looked familiar, and we kept glancing back at you to figure out why he thought he knew you.”
“Yeah. Probably because I’ve been doing work on and off at the cabin for Austin over the last year. Didn’t he tell you?” He’s still grinning.
It’s such a nice grin that I kind of get lost in it and forget my train of thought.
“You okay?” He crouches down until he’s eye level with me.
“Yes, yes. Sorry. Tell me what?”
“That I’m the one who called nine-one-one, the one who resuscitated you after the cable car hit you. I just happened to be in San Francisco to meet a friend. Fate, I guess. You don’t remember?”
“You’re that Leo?” I do a double take. “I thought you said you’re an EMT.”
“EMT and part-time handyman and roofer.”
I remember the area code when he called me. It’s the same as Ghost’s. At the time, I didn’t put it together. “Austin never mentioned anything about it . . . or that he finally figured out how he knew you.”
“He was probably distracted.” Leo looks at me as if to sayYou’d just gotten out of a coma, he had other things on his mind.
“Yeah, probably,” I say, still trying to piece out the missing parts. “Do you live around here?”
