Her Only Chance. Cheryl Anne Porter
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out. It’s a good technique.”
“Is that how you feel, Jamie? Desperate?”
She stared at Dr. Hampton. He acted as if it was his job to jump on everything that came out of her mouth. Then she remembered…that was his job. It would also be her job someday soon—if she got past these sessions. “Yes, I feel desperate. But desperate to graduate and get my license. That’s all.”
Well, now, Jamie, that certainly sounded hostile. Dr. Hampton probably thought so, too, given the assessing stare he was sending her way. Swallowing, Jamie glanced at the wall clock behind him. The obnoxiously slow-moving big hand showed she still had fifteen minutes left in her hour. Great. Jamie smiled hopefully, helplessly, at her therapist and wisely said no more.
Dr. Hampton carefully placed his notepad on the small table next to him. He brushed something off his trousers, crossed his thin legs and met her gaze. Bad news was written all over his face. “You come back to your license almost as much as you do to Mr. Chance. I don’t suppose, though, that I blame you. Only I’m afraid, Jamie, that your license isn’t going to be forthcoming, at least not yet.”
His words were like an arrow to the heart of her future. Jamie put a shaking hand to her temple. “Would you please explain ‘not forthcoming’?”
“I’m afraid it means I’ll be, well, holding up your license.”
Jamie’s heart raced, leaving her weak-kneed. Her license. Her agent had called her just three days ago asking her when she’d have it. Liz had said Jamie needed to mail a copy to Highline Publishing and to her the day she got it. Only then would they draw up contracts that meant a signed deal. Jamie could hear herself assuring Liz she’d have it within a week or so. Or so? Suddenly “or so” appeared to be sometime in the next Ice Age. “Oh, God. Oh, please, Dr. Hampton, you can’t deny me my license. You can’t.”
Dr. Hampton’s gaze roved over her face. “I’m not going to deny you your license, Jamie. Well, not for any longer than I have to. I just think there’s something here that needs fine-tuning, let’s say.”
Fine-tuning? That’s it? Jamie leaned forward and stared at her former mentor, now tormentor. “That sounds hopeful. Considering I’ve studied under you for years, you’d have seen if I had any serious emotional problems by now. We’re just talking about temporary, right?”
“Correct. And I don’t feel you have serious emotional problems, Jamie. However, I am seeing something, in the course of these sessions, that I feel you need to address before going into practice for yourself.”
But I’m not going into practice, she wanted to yell. I’m going to be rich and be on TV. I’ll have books and make public appearances and—
Dr. Hampton continued “—while I don’t think you have a long-term problem, I just don’t see how, at this point, I can recommend you for licensing in marriage and family counseling.”
Still a bit breathless with the enormity of the man’s words, Jamie concentrated on breathing—and cooperating. “Okay. So we can’t do that now. What do I have to do? More classes? Labs? Some more interning?”
Dr. Hampton held out a steadying hand to her. “No, none of that. You’ve been exemplary in your courses. It’s not that at all.”
“Then what? It’s me, isn’t it? You’re just being nice and I am so totally messed up, aren’t I?”
Dr. Hampton chuckled. “No, calm down. You’re going way overboard with this.”
Yes she was, and she couldn’t stop it. “Am I at least going to graduate tomorrow night? I have family here for the ceremony. What am I going to tell them?”
Dr. Hampton gripped Jamie’s hand and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. You don’t have to tell them anything. You will graduate tomorrow night, and your degree will be conferred upon you. It will be my honor to present it to you, Jamie.”
Grateful tears filled her eyes. Jamie slipped her hand out of his and reached across a small end table to the box of tissues. She plucked one out, wiped her eyes, then tossed it in a waste backet. “Well, thank God—and you—for that much, at least. My mother and sister are here from New Orleans to see me graduate.”
Dr. Hampton smiled. “Excellent. I’m sure you’re enjoying their visit. And I’ll look forward to meeting them.” Then his expression sobered, signaling a change in subject. “About your license, Jamie. Try not to be discouraged. Or too hard on yourself. I think you can work through this just fine. However, your graduate committee and I believe that before we can sign off on your state application you need to work a bit on finding closure.”
Jamie nodded, taking a moment to come to terms with what he was telling her. She also tried to think how she could get through this without Liz finding out. She had no choice but to cooperate. And to admit that this had really shaken her. Was there no area in her life where she could get things right the first time out? “All right. What do I have to do?”
“As I said, seek closure. With Kellan Chance.”
Jamie’s stomach tightened. As Donna had reminded her, she’d walked away from Kell—for the second time in her life—only a year ago. And now, her entire professional life rested on achieving closure with this man, a consummate warrior in her white-collar world? A teensy little fly in her great big jar of ointment? Dread washed over Jamie. Resting an elbow atop her knee, she leaned forward, rubbing at her forehead. “Great. Kellan Chance. The story of my life. I thought you meant undergo more sessions, talk about my feelings for him, something like that.”
“I do. We’ll continue those as well.”
“Dr. Hampton, perhaps I should explain. Kellan and I have quite the history. We go way back. Since before high school. Then, eight years ago, when I was twenty-one, I left him at the altar. Full church, white dress, all the trimmings. He was not amused at being humiliated in front of the whole town.”
“I suppose not. So you’re saying you don’t believe Mr. Chance has feelings for you?”
“Oh, he has a lot of feelings for me. All of them centering around murder.”
Dr. Hampton eyed her skeptically. “Are you certain? Because you said earlier in this session that you’d been involved with him after the, um, failed wedding.”
Guilt had Jamie darting her gaze around the room. “Yes. Two years ago we got together again. We lasted about a year.”
“I see. And how did it end that last time?”
“Badly. I walked away. Again.”
“Ah. Why is that?”
Jamie was getting tired of this being all about her. “Look, you need to understand the Chance family. It isn’t just a name with them. It’s their motto. The whole family takes chances in some way. Kell has two brothers—Brandon and T.J. Brandon is older than Kell. He used to be a Nightstalker pilot. Now that he is out of the military, he’s still taking risks, running his own security company. And T.J., the youngest, is into extreme sports. Very extreme. Even their parents are gamblers—real gamblers. That’s how they earn their living. So anywhere it’s legal, they’re there. When the boys were young and the Chances needed to go ‘earn a living,’ they’d have Aunt Tillie—who deals cards on a riverboat—sit with them.”
“Good heavens.”
“That’s milder than most people put it.” She stopped and looked Dr. Hampton in the eye. “And that’s the crux of the problem. I just don’t think Kell could change, even if he wanted to. And I don’t think he does. Taking risks is in his genes. He gambles with his health, his life, his body. Everything but his heart. He—”
“Jamie, what would you do if he did change?”
Her body’s response to that question startled Jamie. Fear had jetted over her. Fear, not relief. Warily, she eyed her therapist. “What do you mean?”
“If