Page 74 of Jericho

"Hi," she says as she stands and holds her hand out. "I'm Dr. Caitlyn Rudd. Feel free to call me Caitlyn. I'm not very formal. I'll ask Eli to call me Miss Caitlyn."

"Aspen Ga… Just Aspen," I offer, adding getting my name changed as soon as I get a chance to my laundry list of things needing to be done.

We shake hands and she dips her head down to indicate her tablet before speaking again.

"I was just getting Eli's profile set up. I use a digital filing system, but everything we speak about and his case notes are completely confidential."

I nod in understanding, unsure if what she just said even requires a verbal response.

"If we could go over a few questions I have before I meet with Eli, that would be great."

Nolan directs us to sit on the sofas.

"What are some of Eli's favorite toys to play with?"

I feel like the worst parent in the world because I don't know how to answer that question.

"I don't know," I tell her honestly. "I don't know how much you've been told, but I haven't had the chance to be a regular mother to Eli for years. There were... circumstances."

She gives me a soft smile, and I don't see a hint of judgment in her eyes at all. It makes me feel a little relief with my confession.

"That's okay. Kids are pretty good at letting us know what they like. Therapy with such a young child doesn't look like you may think it does. They aren't expected to come in and immediately start talking about their problems. They may not even realize they've suffered a trauma. Research has shown that a more playful approach helps. We'll play games and such, but there will be a therapeutic edge to all of it. This allows kids to feel safe, which in turn helps them to speak freely so we can get to the root of their issues."

"So we need to find out what his favorite toys are to make this work?" Nolan asks, as if he is rooted in solving problems he can physically take care of.

Caitlyn points to a bag to the right of the sofa she's sitting on. "I brought some basics, but I can provide a list of things that would help in therapy. It's good for him to play with the same things he does with me while he's with you guys. This way he can open up and speak to both of us."

"So his whole life is going to become a therapy session?" I ask, feeling overwhelmingly more like a failure.

I blow out a harsh breath, needing to take a moment. This isn't about me, but I don't want Eli to feel like he's always under a microscope.

"No," she says with an easy smile. "This isn't therapy for Eli. By that I mean he isn't going to see it as therapy. He's going to play, and we'll listen. I'll ask some questions that help us get to the root of his fear and trauma but it won't even resemble therapy. I may give him a broken toy to see how he deals with frustration, and we'll fix it together. Kids are super resilient in everything they do. We just need to find out what he feels like he's been missing and we can fill those holes."

"Okay," I answer.

"I'm ready to meet him if you guys are ready to move forward," she says with more patience than I think I've ever witnessed in my life.

"I'll go get him," I tell her.

I feel like an outsider as I hear them talking softly as I make my way up the stairs. I vow not to let my personal feelings get in the way of her helping my son.

Eli is sitting on the bed when I open his bedroom door. He isn't crying, but I can see how startled he looks by my intrusion.

"Would it be better if we knock before coming in?" I ask, realizing he may have never had much privacy before.

But then I wonder if that's the right thing, which also makes me wonder how long I'll be second-guessing myself where he's concerned. I don't want to cause more issues, but I also don't want him to feel as if he's being neglected. Shit, maybe I need to see if Miss Caitlyn does therapy for adults as well.

He doesn't answer me, and I can see that he thinks it's a test that he will fail no matter what answer he gives, so I make the decision for him.

"What about a secret knock?" I ask, squatting down in front of him. "So you know it's me?"

A tiny smile transforms his adorable face.

"Like this," I say, knocking three times on the footboard before tapping my fingernails rhythmically.

His smile grows wider.

"Do you have it memorized?" I do the sequence again, smiling when he nods.

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