Page 9 of Welcome Home, Cowboy
Julie straightened behind her steering wheel. “What? Why?”
Allison laughed into the phone. “Because it’s an awesome program, that’s why. And maybe because I also called my mother and had her pull a few strings. Mom is good friends with the commanding officer of Camp Leon. She suggested that a wellness program might be beneficial to the local Marines. Or a yoga program. Then, of course, she told the CO about how her daughter—me—works here at the vet center in Seaside. One thing led to another and voilà. Mr. Banks apparently loved the idea when the commanding officer suggested it. He said he had a program already in the works.”
Julie’s mouth fell open. “I can’t believe it.”
“Well, there is one catch.” The excitement in Allison’s voice dropped off.
Julie held her breath. “What is it?”
“He wants you to do a one-month trial. He’ll offer you a room at the Veterans’ Center and the minimum supplies needed.”
“All I really need are yoga mats.” And she could make do without those if she had to.
“And you’d be volunteering your time for this trial program. No pay. You’ll move to paid status after the month, if the program is a success.”
“No pay?” Julie nodded, remembering the stack of bills currently on her kitchen counter. A job that didn’t pay wasn’t ideal, but it was better than sitting around and being depressed about being unemployed. At least with this opportunity, there was a chance of doing something she loved long-term.
“So? What do you think? Are you in?” Allison asked.
Julie didn’t hesitate. “Definitely.”
“Great. Can you start next Monday?”
Excitement surged through Julie. “Yes. I can’t wait. Thank you, Allison.”
—
Lawson looked at the clock. Commander Oakes had warned him not to be late, but evidently Dr. Pierce played by different rules. He’d wait for this “doctor” one more minute and then he was leaving. Maybe he’d run into Julie again in town like he had earlier this morning. He could get used to running into her, although he’d prefer if she didn’t act so jumpy in his presence.
“Captain Phillips?”
Lawson turned toward the older woman with short gray hair and emerald eyes.
“I’m Dr. Pierce,” she told him.
He nodded. He’d expected some young naval psychologist who didn’t know his nose from his ass.
The woman laid a file on her desk, sat in the chair in front of him, and smiled. “So, why are you here?”
He fidgeted with his hands in his lap. “Well, if you don’t know that, then why areyouhere?” he asked, only half joking.
Dr. Pierce didn’t look impressed. Yeah, he wasn’t impressed with himself these days, either. Enough of his buddies had been ordered to see shrinks that he knew what Dr. Pierce wanted, though. She wanted to label him. His friend Shawn had been labeled with post-traumatic stress disorder two years ago, and he hadn’t set foot in a cockpit since.
Lawson’s jaw tightened. “Look. I got a little spooked on Monday. That’s all.”
She continued to watch him, waiting for him to say more. He’d seen how psychologists acted in movies. Silence made the other person talk. Not him.
“And?” she asked.
“And I’m fine. It won’t happen again.”
“How are you sleeping?” she asked.
He shrugged, as if that answered anything. “Sleep is overrated, if you ask me,” he joked.
She nodded, unamused. “Any other symptoms?”
“Symptoms?” He met her gaze, chewing on his thoughts. The powers that be would see anything she wrote in his file. Depending on the language, and whether his commanding officer liked him at the moment, all those years he’d spent training for aviation could be for nothing. “I’m not sure what happened out there on Monday, but I’m over it. If I wasn’t sitting here in front of you right now I’d already be back in the cockpit. I’d already be in the clouds.”
