something about that.” His dad cleared his throat, the signal he really wasn’t interested and was getting down to the important business that warranted the call. “But I didn’t call to talk about trivial matters. I mentioned your continuing bouts with PTSD to Vance Leighton at the club last night. He told me about a therapy he’s had quite good success with. It’s called— Do you have a pen to write this down?”
“Yes, sir.” Rick walked over to the folder he’d dropped on the couch and flipped it open.
“It’s called EMDR. Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. I’ve been reading about it on the internet, and I’m very impressed with the results I’m seeing. I want you to look into it. Paducah has a Dr. Enlow who’s trained in it.”
“I’ve got my hands pretty full right now, sir.”
“Bullshit. Twenty kids and a feisty woman does not add up to full hands. Get your priorities straight.”
“I have the information.” Therapy was a waste of time, and Rick wasn’t about to make a promise he wouldn’t keep.
Warren senior gave a long sigh. “I guess Luke told you he signed on for another tour of duty?”
“Yes, sir. I spoke with him a few days ago.” The idea of his little brother going to Syria made Rick’s skin crawl, but he didn’t bring that up. It was just one more thing he and his dad had opposing views on. “How’s Mom doing with it?”
“As always,” his dad answered crisply. “No news from Jack since we last reported to you.” Calls from the oldest Warren son in Lebanon were rare occurrences.
“Well, I have a few things to get done here, if there’s nothing else.” Rick stretched out on the couch, hoping for a few minutes to himself before quiet time was over.
“No, I’ve accomplished what I called for.”
“Give Mom a hug for me and tell her I’ll call this weekend.”
“Will do, son. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Dad.” Rick set the phone on the table and picked up the sheet of paper he’d written on.
EMDR.
He wadded up the paper and tossed it into the trash.
* * *
SUMMER HUNG UP THE PHONE after her conversation with Kate, satisfied that Fairy Princess Parties was in good hands.
Twenty minutes of quiet time remained, but the events of the day had her restless and edgy. Maybe a short walk in the woods would calm her down before the geocaching adventure, which was planned for the rest of the afternoon.
The path took her by the girls’ bunkhouse and, as she neared, screams and sounds of general chaos filled the air. She sprinted across the distance, bursting through the door, expecting to find a wild creature had made its way into the building. Surely, they couldn’t have two skunk episodes in one day.
A pillow smacked her upside the head as soon as she walked in the door. The girls were running amok, jumping on beds, over beds, slamming one another with pillows, squealing with laughter. The floor was littered with clothes, shoes, socks, books.
“Hey!” Her voice couldn’t make it over the din. She jerked the whistle out of her shirt and let go with an ear-piercing trill.
All activity in the room came to a stop as the girls turned their attention toward the sound. “This is supposed to be quiet time.” Jaws dropped and eyes grew wide at her harsh tone.
In the corner, Tara laid down the book she’d been reading and pulled the earbuds out of her ears.
“Get this place cleaned up. Now!” Summer cut a path through the debris back to Tara. The girls scurried to the task.
“What’s going on?” she asked under her breath as she neared Tara. “This is quiet time.”
Tara’s face filled with contrition. “I’m sorry. I thought quiet time was Rick’s idea, and you’d just want to use it as free time, you know, to allow the girls to do what they wanted.”
Summer looked at the mess around the room. For four days, she’d assumed the girls were napping, or at least resting. Instead, they’d been having a free-for-all? “Well, I don’t mind them having free time, but this looks like somebody could get hurt.”
Tara surveyed the room. “It has sort of escalated. The first two days it was just running around and talking. Getting to know one another. Yesterday, they started jumping on the beds a little. Today—” she waved a finger toward the strewn clothes “—it started out as a fashion show. ...”
“Well, no harm done, I guess.” Rick Warren’s comment about what she was teaching the girls