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    Boundless Love
    Boundless Love
    Boundless Love
    Ebook179 pages2 hours

    Boundless Love

    By T. J. Robertson

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    About this ebook

    When Susan Simpson, a social worker, starts working at the Metcalf Mental Health Center, she quickly falls under the spell of Milton Lindholm, its brilliant but lecherous director. The more she gets to know him, however, the less she likes him. But, even upon learning about his past transgressions--namely, the string of broken hearts he has left in his wake--her love-hate relationship with him persists. All the while he is lusting for her and hell-bent on adding her to his trophy case of romantic conquests.
    In addition to fending off his sexual advances and counseling some emotionally difficult clients,--an anorexic, an alcoholic, and a high school underachiever just to mention a few--she is trying to help her wild and errant younger sister turn her life around and pondering how best to reconcile with her alcoholic father.
    Tired and depressed, she reaches a point of quiet desperation. Then, like a breath of fresh air, Ned Baxter, a doctoral student and expert on Henry David Thoreau, arrives at her office, seeking her advice on how he can minimize the rancor and ill which breaking up with Sheila Bradford, his fiancée, is sure to cause. Although their contact in the clinic is fleeting, he leaves a lasting impression on her and, as a result, she pulls herself together, succeeds in breaking the spell of Milton Lindholm, a modern-day Svengali, and hands him her resignation.
    Meanwhile Ned tries to woo her without success; for, she insists that professional ethics forbid a counselor to date a client. He, however, argues that since she is no longer a social worker at the Metcalf Mental Health Center and he is no longer a client there--if he ever was because he came to their first session merely for advice and after that just for an excuse to see her--ethics do not apply. Only when he suggests that they share some activities as friends and, as it were, dip their toes into the water before taking the plunge, does she relent. During a visit to Walden Pond, true love takes root and, no matter how hard she tries, she cannot prevent it from growing.
    She shows up unexpectedly at Ned's apartment to declare her love for him only to get the shock of her life when his pregnant ex-fiancée opens the door. In anger and hurt, she flees and refuses to talk to him. Only when she learns that Milton Lindholm is the prospective father, not Ned, who is merely giving her moral support and a temporary place to live, does she realize her mistaken rush to judgment.
    Ironically, Milton's dalliances with both Susan and her sister bring the two of them closer. And, through her counseling sessions with Mrs. Flaherty, an alcoholic, she gains a greater understanding of the causes and effects of alcoholism and reconciles with her father.
    So, all is well that ends well.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherT. J. Robertson
    Release dateJun 22, 2015
    ISBN9781310425738
    Boundless Love
    Author

    T. J. Robertson

    Although I’ve made my living as a teacher and guidance counselor, I’ve always had a passion for writing. Thomas Bouregy and Company published my novel, Return to Paradise Cove, under their Avalon imprint. Two of my one-act plays, A Different Kind of Death, and The Flirt, have been produced, respectively, in New Haven, Connecticut, and Sacramento, California. Short stories of mine have appeared in commercial magazines such as Action and True Romance as well as in certain literary and professional ones.

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      Book preview

      Boundless Love - T. J. Robertson

      Boundless Love

      by

      T. J. Robertson

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2015 T. J. Robertson

      This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share it with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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      Chapter 1

      Mr. Baxter, I presume? The question came from a young blond with sparkling blue eyes, a dainty nose, and rose-petalled lips who bounded into the waiting room of the Metcalf Mental Health Center.

      A muscular youth whose sandy hair spilled down over his hazel eyes and sunburnt features looked up from his magazine. That's me, he replied, setting it aside and rising.

      I'm Susan Simpson, a member of the staff, assigned to work with you, she said, extending her hand, which he took like a present he didn't know what to do with. Why don't you come with me? she added, coming to his rescue.

      Yes, of course. He followed her so closely that he stepped on the back of one of her heels. Oh, I'm sorry, he mumbled, embarrassed. Please forgive me.

      Lifting her pleated white skirt and slightly exposing a shapely calf, she turned to survey the damage to her shoe. No harm done, she replied with a reassuring smile.

      The most striking furnishings of her office were not the seascapes of Cape Cod that adorned its pastel-colored walls but rather a small, oval-shaped beige rug from which warmth and comfort radiated. The coffee table, set in its center, separated a sofa on one side from two armchairs on the other. Somehow, the desk by the window, though neat and polished, appeared irrelevant; for, obviously, the sofa and armchairs were where most of the therapist's work took place.

      When he had made himself comfortable on one of the armchairs, she sat down on the sofa opposite him. On your intake form, I believe you said you were a student, she said, breaking the silence.

      That's right, he replied matter-of-factly. I'm doing graduate work at Tufts University.

      What's your field of interest? she asked, toying with the miniature hearts on her gold bracelet.

      He hesitated and smiled before replying, Thoreau.

      Henry David Thoreau? Questioningly, she quirked an eyebrow.

      The one and only, he said with a wag of his head. Ever since I visited Walden Pond for the first time on a middle-school picnic, I've had a deep and abiding interest in him. He sat forward and looked at her intently. So, it should come as no surprise that in college I'd devote myself to learning all I could about the man, his friends, and times.

      Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Margaret Fuller, she replied with a wry smile. And, of course, I'd be remiss not to mention their interest in transcendentalism.

      His eyes lit up in surprise. So, you, too, are familiar with the Concord authors?

      Oh, in college, I had to do a paper on an American woman who, early on, was influential in raising the status of women in our society, she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. I chose Margaret Fuller.

      America's first feminist, he enthused, exchanging a subtle look of amusement with her. An excellent choice, indeed.

      Be that as it may. Then, turning more serious, she asked, But why don't you tell me what brings you to the clinic?

      He took a deep breath and said, I'm here today because Mrs. Bradford recommended the clinic to my uncle.

      Oh? In addition to the soft gasp, the name of the woman, who obviously was not unknown to her, brought a frown to her brow.

      He's a bachelor. He paused and, then, with a smile, said, No woman, except Mrs. Bradford, would put up with him.

      Crossing her shapely legs, she asked, How do they know one another?

      Oh, they go back a long way. The smile turned into a grin as he said, All the way back to the Mayflower.

      They both had ancestors on that ship? Her blue eyes shone bright with curiosity.

      He nodded. They're, also, both staunch Republicans and active in local politics. He paused and heaved a heavy sigh before continuing, He has a successful cutlery business and, because he has no children, he's been trying for years to groom me to take it over.

      Intuitively, she found herself replying, Without success, I gather?

      You're very perceptive, he said, a flash of humor crossing his face. Unfortunately, he's always complaining to my mother--his sister--about my being too easygoing and nonchalant. He hesitated, rolling his eyes. If I want to take over his company--which, of course, I don't--he insists that I have to become more assertive and business savvy.

      Oh? she replied softly, her eyes narrowing.

      If that son of yours wants to succeed in the competitive world of business, Mildred, he mimicked, he needs to develop some back bone. While Susan was chuckling at his imitation, he continued, To prove him wrong, I worked summers and vacation weeks at his factory, learning, as the saying goes, the business from the ground up.

      Pushing aside an errant strand of blond hair, she asked, So, did you succeed in changing his mind about your work habits?

      He groaned. Yes, unfortunately.

      Unfortunately? she said, raising an eyebrow.

      Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. Now he's convinced more than ever that I'm the one to take over his business.

      She clapped a hand to her cheek. He sounds like a hard-headed businessman.

      Oh, don't get me wrong, he replied, softening his tone and gesturing. He's a great guy and I consider myself fortunate to have him as an uncle.

      She studied him long and hard before offering, If you don't mind me saying, it's almost as if you have a love-hate relationship with him.

      His brows flickered a little. Oh, I wouldn't go that far.

      Then, just how far would you go? Her response held a hint of impatience.

      Let's just say to keep peace in the family, here I am. He folded his sturdy arms across his chest to emphasize the point.

      But, if you don't think you have a problem--

      Assertiveness isn't a problem, he interrupted and neither is shyness, which my would-be mother-in-law sees as an issue.

      She paused, captivated by his tall, lean, and sinewy physique. The two are related, you know? she said at last.

      That may be but I suffer from neither of them. He took a deep breath before saying, But, that doesn't mean I don't have something to discuss with you.

      Before you confuse me any further, she replied with a sigh, I'm going to tell you what I think your problem is.

      Be my guest, he offered, raising the palms of his hands.

      It's family dynamics, she said with quiet emphasis.

      He shook his head in agreement. "Let me be more specific if I may?

      Now you can be my guest, she answered, matching his gesture with one of her own.

      His expression stilled and grew serious. Right now my big concern is Sheila.

      Sheila? she asked, tugging on a tendril of her hair.

      Nervously, he toyed with the pocket of his cargo pants. I'm engaged to be married to her but lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about it.

      The silence between them lengthened, making both uncomfortable.

      Marriage is a big step and feeling apprehensive about it is natural, she said, for want of anything better to say.

      I couldn't agree with you more, he replied with a firm wag of his head, but I've made up my mind not to go through with the wedding.

      Her eyes studied him intently. Are you sure?

      Positive. His voice dropped a notch as he said, I didn't come here today to poor-mouth her. The truth is she's an intelligent, kind, and practical young woman, who'll make some man a fine wife. I'm just not that man. He hesitated and took a deep breath. But, for the reasons I've just stated, I can't just cast her aside and go merrily on my way.

      Again she found herself reading his mind. What you're saying is that you don't want to hurt her anymore than you have to?

      He nodded. Although I know I can't eliminate completely the disappointment and rancor my decision will cause, I'd like to minimize it," he said, his voice trailing off to a whisper.

      And to achieve that goal, you're going to need some help? Her blue eyes, momentarily, caught and held his hazel ones.

      He leaned back on his chair and, with a sigh of relief, said, Yes. That's really why I've come here today.

      Once again Susan found herself breaking the silence between them. You've talked about Sheila's mother but said nothing about her father.

      It's funny you should mention that, he replied, running a hand through his sandy hair, because she has his friendly, charming, and easy-going manner. He paused and, with a pained look, shook his head.

      What's wrong? she asked, arching an eyebrow.

      When you're young and naïve, appearances can be deceiving, he said in a somber, wistful tone. What I didn't know at the time was that he was an inveterate gambler. Their summer home on Mount Desert Island was lost on the turn of a card. Disbelief shone in his eyes. Naturally, it didn't take him long to squander the Bradford family fortune, which, at one time, was considerable.

      Why would someone as assertive as Mrs. Bradford put up with such behavior? she asked with a puzzled look.

      That's a good question. He paused and thought a moment before replying, It could be her obsession with the Bradford name and its tradition. Such things are important to her.

      Tell me about it, she thought to herself.

      Then again it could be her love for him--a love so complete and all-consuming that she'd endure a great deal. Now his eyes were the ones that caught and held hers.

      Susan shook her head; for, she thought he was too generous in his assessment of the chairwoman's character. She's such a self-centered, demanding, and strong-willed woman, she offered, I'm afraid I can't buy that.

      I certainly won't argue with you on that point, he replied, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. One thing's for sure; right now she's made up her mind that Sheila and I are going to be married.

      Doesn't she realize that's something for the two of you to decide? she asked with a frown.

      Mrs. Bradford doesn't leave such matters to chance, he said with a sigh. I've been putting her off by telling her I wanted to complete my doctoral work first.

      Irritated at the meddlesome chairwoman, she found herself snapping, Why are you playing games with her?

      The anger in her tone rattled him. You're right. A simple and independent mind does not toil at the bidding of any prince.

      What? she asked with a perplexed look.

      Oh, that's just something Thoreau said about the importance of self-assertion, he explained with a wave of his hand.

      I should've known. A smile broke through the seriousness of her face but quickly vanished. But, getting back to Mrs. Bradford, I just don't understand why she persists in pushing the issue?

      It's really quite simple, he said, glancing down at his intertwined fingers. Although my father's family didn't come over on the Mayflower, they arrived soon enough afterwards to be respectable. But, more importantly, thanks to my great grandfather's furniture manufacturing business, my family's finances are in excellent shape.

      Aha, she exclaimed with sudden insight, so, money's the real reason she's pushing you to marry her daughter?

      He nodded. Of course, it doesn't help my ego any, he joked. But, seriously, I do hope to marry some day-- He hesitated and looked at her intently. But it won't be to Sheila; that's for sure.

      For some strange reason, at those words, she suddenly found herself breathing a sigh of relief and smiling. Shortly thereafter, she chose to bring their first session together to a close.

      Chapter 2

      As Susan entered the cafeteria, Wendy Hebert, an occupational therapist, waved for her to come over. When she had made her way among the pastel-colored tables and plopped down on a chair opposite her friend, the latter asked good-naturedly, How goes the battle at the Metcalf Mental Health Center?

      I've been here a year and although I've won a few battles, I think I've lost the war, Susan replied, setting her coffee cup down with a thud as if to emphasize the point. I thought I'd fortify myself with a caffeine fix before meeting with Dr. Lindholm.

      You're lucky you were assigned to him. Wendy moved a folder to one side of the table to make more room for Susan.

      So I've heard, the social worker replied with a heavy sigh.

      Believe me; he knows his stuff, her friend said wistfully. I wish I had had him as a consultant but, with his responsibilities as director, he limits himself to a small number of advisees. Billy Kiley tells me he only chooses the young and the beautiful. With a chuckle

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