To Catch a Husband

"No," Deputy U.S. Marshal Adam Logue said to the company shrink, sitting across from her in her second-story loft located in the center of Portland's artsy Pearl District."Now what kind of attitude is that?" The middle-aged woman eyed him with a concerned frown before consulting her clipboard. The clipboard on which she'd somsehow managed to cram everything that'd been going on in his head. Private stuff. Stuff he'd never told another soul -- so how had it ended up there?"Mr. Logue," Dr. Margaret Davey said, resuming her former all-business smile. "Or, Adam, if I may call you that?""Mr. Logue works for me.""All right." She made a note on her clipboard. Great. After that San Francisco shooting, all he needed was another mark on his record."Look," he said. "If I get brownie points for allowing you to call me by my first name, that's cool. I just -- "She wrote faster and faster. "Did you hear me?"She stopped. Looked up. "Sure, I heard you, Mr. Logue. My question for you is, are you hearing yourself? Because I'm sensing an enormous reserve of pent-up anger. But even more importantly -- fear. Care to expand on that?""Well..." He leaned forward, gracing her with an acid smile. "I could tell you everything that led me here, but what's the point? You've got it all there on my chart.""True, but I have someone else's version. What I'm after is your own.""My version?" With a sharp laugh, he began. "Here goes. I fell for the wrong girl. She was shot and killed. I couldn't do a damn thing to save her. When I saw a guy threatening to whack my brother and the woman he loves, I shot him. I was doing my job as a U.S. Marshal.Am I angry? Hell, yeah. But not at the world. Not at the system. I'm mad at myself. I'm especially pissed my dad's behind this." He gestured to the sparse surroundings -- the gray walls, the black-leather furniture. Even the curtains were gray, blocking out a gray Portland, Oregon, day. "Even though my old man's retired, he still plays golf with my boss. Over an afternoon of too much sun and beer, the two of them hatched this plan for me to get my head straight. So when you so cavalierly suggested I start dating again, my answer was no. Will always be -- no.""So then there's really no point in being here?""Right. Glad you finally see this my way." He pushed himself up from the stupid, too-soft black armchair he'd spent the past thirty minutes drowning in. "I take it the boss gets the bill?"She nodded. "Great. Have a nice life, and sorry if I come across as rough around the edges, but I'm not a touchy-feely guy. Never have been, never will be.""Sit down, Mr. Logue. You're on my time, and I still have another thirty minutes."He ignored her, heading for the door. "Your boss feels that, because of what happened in San Francisco and years earlier with Angela Jacobs, you've become a shell of a person. A robot. Which, in turn, has affected virtually every area of your life -- including your work. Would you say this is a fair assessment?""I'd say," he said, fingers clenched around the cold, brass doorknob, "it's none of your business -- or Franks'. I do my job. Was cleared of any wrongdoing.""Fair enough." Scribble, scribble. "More orthodox psychiatrists prefer slow, methodical treatment, but I've never been that long-suffering. Hence your prescription.""My prescription?""Yes, earlier, when I suggested you resume dating, it wasn't just an idea I tossed out. I believe when a patient has fallen off their horse, they should climb right back -- "He marched across the room, planting his hands on her chair's armrests. "Angela isn't a freakin'horse. She's a flesh-and-blood woman who -- ""Are you even aware you're speaking of her in present tense? As if she's still alive?"At the shrink's venomous words, Adam abruptly released her chair. Took about ten steps back, parking himself in the relatively safe back end of her office."Before next week," she said, "I'll expeAltom, Laura Marie is the author of 'To Catch a Husband', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373751273 and ISBN 0373751273.