Page 89 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“I was halfway through my senior year when it all fell apart. I flunked a math test. I missed a deadline for early admission to college. And I started a fire in the kitchen at the restaurant because I was studying for a test and not paying attention. The chef got it out, no damage done, but that really shook me.”

“I can imagine.”

“The Saturday after that, I was retaking my ACT, hoping to improve my score, and I had a breakdown. A total emotional and mental breakdown. Right there in the classroom in front of the other students.” She met his eyes and held the contact, as if trying to communicate some message he didn’t understand.

“It was bad, Garrett. They pulled me out of the test and called an ambulance. I thought I was having a heart attack.”

“A panic attack, I assume.”

“Yeah, but I thought… You can imagine what I thought.” When he didn’t guess, she explained. “I thought I was like my mother.”

Oh.

“They wanted to hospitalize me, but my father absolutely refused. I remember being in the ER, listening to him on the other side of the door arguing that I needed to be at home with him. He took me home and got me in to see a counselor.”

“Once again, I’m impressed by your father.”

The corner of her mouth ticked up. “He was such a good man. The counselor was helpful and told me I had too much going on and that anybody would have cracked under the weight of it. I’m not sure if that’s true, but…” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Anyway, she gave me some tips about handling stress.”

“Did you get the scholarship? Did you go to college?” He knew she hadn’t finished, but maybe...

“I thought, since I couldn’t handle the stress of high school, I’d never be able to manage college.”

“But you managed a restaurant?”

“Eventually, and yeah, that’s also stressful. Probably more so, especially considering I didn’t like the work. But it felt safe. I let my fear direct me.” Her lips pressed and lifted in a sort of shrug. “Anyway, the counselor got me started making lists and plans. When everything’s written down, I don’t have to remember it all. Life feels more manageable.”

That made sense, but there had to be a limit. “Sometimes plans change. You can’t know what the future holds.”

“That’s always been my problem. Once I write it down, it feels like it’s permanent. I want it to come true. I feel like, if I start changing things, I’ll veer off course.”

“Maybe you’ve set your course in the wrong direction. Ever hear that old adage about the guy who reached the top of the ladder only to discover he’d leaned it against the wrong wall?” He’d hoped to make her smile, but he was disappointed.

She settled back against the chair, closing her eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“I want to, though. Explain it to me.”

Seconds stretched into minutes. She sipped her soda.

He ate his pizza. Maybe Aspen was done sharing, and though he’d be disappointed, he was pleased she’d told him as much as she had.

The fact that he wanted to know more, to know everything about her…

He should change the subject, let her off the hook. And he would. In another minute. He was just about to when she spoke.

“The course I set isn’t for a destination. I don’t make the lists in order to climb the ladder of success or achieve my goals.”

“If not to achieve goals, then what is the point?”

“I make my lists and follow my plans because it keeps me sane.”

She couldn’t be serious.

But nothing in her countenance told him she was kidding. She didn’t even seem to realize that what she’d said didn’t make sense.

“Don’t you see? An ordered mind is a sane mind. As long as my mind stays orderly, I won’t be like my mother.”

“So you’re saying that, if your mother had kept lists, she wouldn’t have suffered from a mental illness?”

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