Page 4 of Sweet and Salty

“Five weeks,” I answer, blowing out of breath.

Spencer Joel had been my patient for a year before his attentions turned obsessive in the last three months I treated him. He'd never shown any signs of ailments that would’ve pointed to obsessive tendencies, which is why I’d been so surprised when it started happening.

After he crossed professional boundaries—showing up to my office before and after closing, asking for coffee dates with little regard for my polite and professional declines, I had to make the tough decision to refer him to another therapist.

When I told him in person, he'd taken the news in stride, but two days later he’d shown up outside of my office, a dozen roses in his hand and a desperation clinging to his features that had my red flag radar popping off. I kindly asked him to stop showing up to my office and to respect my boundaries, and that’s when the letters started.

And the amount of notes were increasing, showing up on my car and in my mailbox since he'd somehow tracked down my home address.

“I had my assistant schedule this meeting today because I wanted some solid, uninterrupted time with you to discuss this. I know how busy you are, but I’m worried about you,” Dad says.

“Not because you missed me?” I ask, desperately trying to lighten the mood.

“Don't do that,” he says, smiling at me softly. “You know I always miss you. And we have that dinner next weekend. But I wanted to talk to you as soon as I could. You know I'm up for reelection,” he continues, shifting in the chair next to me. “And with that comes a whole slew of concerns and puts the stalker situation at the top of my list.”

I sigh. My father has been a South Carolina senator for the past six years. His campaign’s only just begun, and if the media gets word that I have a stalker, they’ll ensure the topic is nightly news for the foreseeable future.

“I definitely don’t want this to mess with your campaign.”

“This isn't about my campaign,” he says. “This is about your safety. Being in the political hot seat doesn’t just make me a target, but those I love and who are closest to me as well. Namelyyou. Which gives me double reasons to get a security detail on you.”

“Dad, we've talked about this,” I say. “The last thing I want is a bodyguard following me around.”

“You're right, we did talk about it,” he says. “When I first ran for senator, and you had no clear threats against you. It doesn't matter that this dangerous situation didn’t result from somebody with a vendetta against me or my policies. A threat is a threat.” He points to the envelope on my desk, and I mentally visualize the other four nestled in the bottom drawer. “And he’s hand delivering these messages. What happens when leaving a letter for you isn’t enough?” His brow furrows. “And the police still aren't doing anything about it?”

“Theycan'tdo anything about it that, Dad,” I explain.

One of my patients-turned-friend, Anne, is engaged to one of Sweet Water’s finest police officers, Jim Harlowe. Because of that connection, Jim met with me several times, looking over the notes and the somewhat grainy footage I had from the cameras that covered the front of my practice.

“There's no probable cause to issue an order of protection,” I continue. “Spencer hasn't posed a physical threat to me yet. The judge won't approve the order just because I say the guy is bothering me, and I'm not going to use your political standing to get them to issue one either. I tell Jim about every single letter I get, and he always comes out. Jim even went to Spencer’s last known residence to tell him to back off, but he no longer lives there, and no one has a record of where he's staying. It's not the police department's fault.”

“I understand that,” Dad says. “You're not their daughter. You're mine. And the last thing I want is something happening to you because I didn't help.”

“Dad,” I chide but he waves me off.

“Would it be so bad to have someone with the skills and wherewithal to sense and spot danger before it gets too close? Honestly, it's not like I'd hire six people to be on you at all times. I'm just asking for you to let me haveoneperson. My team has already set up a meeting with one of their top privatecontractors. They assure me he’s the absolute best, just a little rough around the edges. But personally, I think that's exactly what you need. Maybe seeing a tough guy around here and escorting you home every night will deter this asshole. Make leaving notes and watching you at all times more trouble than it's worth.”

I let the idea sink in, doing my best to sort out my emotional reactions to the situation versus the logical ones.

“Zoe,” he says before I can respond. “You spend your days helping people. Your brilliant mind gives others peace and that’s an admirable thing that shouldn't be ruined by one bad client. You need to worry about your own safety and take care of yourself so you can keep taking care of others.”

“When you put it that way...” I sigh. “All right,” I say, unable to argue with that logic. “But it won't be forever, right?”

“Of course not,” he says. “It’ll only be for as long as itneedsto be. I'll set up the contract for six months, and we'll reassess at the end of that. Hopefully this business is handled well before then.”

Six months.

Six months of having someone follow me around day and night? I’m no stranger to having the paparazzi spot me and my father coming out of a restaurant, looking for something to stir up an otherwise slow news day, but having a constant presence around me? Somebody hired for the sole purpose of protecting me? That’s a new concept, and I’m not exactly sure how to prepare for that.

“We'll have to discuss his schedule,” I say. “And where he'll be when I'm treating clients. The last thing I need is someone scaring my patients.” I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell my patients about this situation, but if I have a full time guard here, there will be questions. I’ll have to explain the reasoning behind it. I mentally make a note to add that to my to-do list.

The thought of them pausing or stopping their treatment because of this situation worries me. I’ll totally understand, but my heart sinks just thinking about them not feeling safe here. Once again, anger bubbles to the surface at the position Spencer is putting me in.

“Of course,” Dad says. “I’ll ensure he has all the information during our meeting today. I’ll emphasize how critical it is that your patients feel comfortable and safe and not like they're going to be interrogated or intimidated.”

“Thank you,” I say, truly meaning it. “It’ll be a relief to not have to constantly worry about Spencer coming through the door.”

“I would’ve done it sooner if you had let me,” Dad says. “And the offer still stands to move back in with me for however long you need.”

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