Free Resolve by J.J. Hensley Page B

away. If she didn’t have any appointments scheduled, she could simply work from home with her assistant, a brown beagle mix named Sigmund.
    Being a workaholic, it was always a safe bet that Kaitlyn was being productive regardless of her environment. Even on weekends, she volunteered at the local children’s hospital counseling terminally-ill kids and their families. The hospital staff absolutely loved her, and she managed to draw billboard-sized smiles out of sick children and desperate parents with ease. On a few occasions, I had accompanied her to the hospital and personally witnessed her rock star status in action. To watch her cast her spell was intoxicating in itself. On this day, she would need to brew a very special potion to lighten my darkening mood.
    After a quick fifteen-minute drive, I pulled into our subdivision glad that our two-story home was far from the highway. The west end of the development was where the houses had some room to inhale. It was nice being close to a city and all of its urban amenities, yet still spot the occasional deer walking past the yard. Sigmund was a huge fan of the arrangement since our backyard—enclosed by a natural wood picket fence—allowed him to see the wildlife and unleash his devastating beagle bark on Mother Nature whenever he saw fit. As I pulled into the driveway, I saw a floppy-eared head pop up in the front window like a prairie dog searching the horizon for activity. When my key hit the front door, I could already hear toenails tapping in rapid succession on the hardwood floor. I entered the house and was immediately attacked by two front paws and a wet nose. Unfortunately, due to Sigmund’s height, when he lunges at me his paws and nose tend to strike me in the id, ego, and superego. In this instance, I turned away sharply and narrowly avoided several minutes of being doubled over in pain.
    I knew where Kaitlyn would be, so I headed in that direction being closely trailed by panting and tail-wagging. She inhaled sharply and swiveled her chair in my direction when she sensed someone entering her den. She had been engrossed in some psychology journal displayed on her computer monitor. A CD playing Brahms had drowned out my footsteps and Sigmund’s tap dancing.
    “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.”
    Sigmund was still attached to me, investigating my pant leg to make sure I hadn’t been unfaithful with some other dog.
    “I decided to come home and get an early start on the weekend.”
    I walked over and my wife raised her head enough for me to give her a peck on the lips. Her form-fitting jeans and low-cut top told me that she didn’t have any appointments this afternoon. It was already three o’clock and she rarely saw patients after five.
    “I should be finished here in about an hour or so. I was thinking we could go grab some dinner at Garcia’s tonight. If we go early, we shouldn’t have trouble getting a table.”
    Normally, I would never have passed up a trip to my favorite restaurant.
    “I don’t know. I thought we might stay in. How about we try going there tomorrow?” I leaned over and scratched Sigmund behind an ear.
    “You don’t want to go to Garcia’s? Something’s wrong. Want to talk about it?” Pointing to the monitor, she added, “This can wait, I’ll make the time.” She gestured toward another chair in the room as if it were a couch set aside for her patients.
    I love Kaitlyn with all my heart, but I should have been drawn and quartered for marrying a psychologist.
    “It’s okay. Just a rough day. I’ll tell you about it later.”
    “Seriously, I’ve got the time. Have a seat.”
    “Later.”
    I walked out of the room and down the hallway to the kitchen. Sigmund apparently didn’t want to be analyzed either and joined me in my act of civil disobedience. I grabbed a Yuengling from the refrigerator, stood at the island in the center of the kitchen, and cracked open the beer. I tossed the cap down on the island and