on thin ice, setting itself up for possible litigation. The methods are in many ways contradictory to standard treatments, and I think they could, with certain individuals, worsen their condition."
"That bad? Then why haven't you withdrawn Raphaela?"
"I would. Actually, I wanted to--" He stopped. Why hadn't he? What the hell was he doing there now, trying to force himself to cooperate with a program he didn't believe in? It made no sense. "Marian was so damned insistent, I didn't have the heart to do it," he lied. When he'd made the decision to stay, he hadn't given a damn about Marian's pleas, but he didn't have a better answer.
"So, Marian feelings are more important than what is best for your daughter?" she asked, her eyebrows rose in surprise.
"No. I didn't say that. I would never say that."
"So why haven't you taken Raphaela home?" she challenged. Her tone annoyed him, and his anger flashed anew.
"In Ella's case, I think the risk of worsening her condition is minimal. She's profoundly autistic." He clamped his mouth shut. Had he just said that? Admitted something so painful he hadn't spoken the words in three years?
Faith dropped her gaze from his and with a twig etched something in the dust coating the boulder. He wished he could read her mind. Wished he could take back what he'd just said. Did she know the significance of his last statement?
"What about your personal opinion?" she asked.
"Personally, I find the techniques intriguing." That admission caught him by surprise as well. Why was he being so damned honest with this woman?
She nodded.
Silence. He hated it when yawning silence swallowed up a conversation. Especially when he'd revealed so much. He needed to fill the silence, change the topic, and move to safer territory. "I heard your argument with Mr. Roberts."
Wide blue eyes shot up, her gaze meeting his own. "What?" she whispered, her reaction taking him by surprise.
"I heard your discussion with Mr. Roberts. I was outside the door," he explained, trying to figure out why it bothered her.
She stared at him for a moment, chewing her lip. "Look, we're here to talk about you and Raphaela and Marian. If I decide I need a therapist, I'll let you know."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything--"
"It's okay. Let's stick to you and your family, if that's all right with you." She smiled, but it was a strained expression.
He forced his regard back to the river thrashing the rocks below. I guess the compliments will have to wait. "So what do you want to know about me? I'm really an uninteresting guy. Not much depth."
"For some reason, I don't believe that."
"Really. What you see is pretty much what you get."
Their gazes locked again, until Garret looked away, followed the rough-barked trunk of a nearby tree to outstretched branches, finally losing the green-cloaked limbs overhead where they tangled with the branches of other trees.
"Why don't you tell me about your relationship with Raphaela?"
He glanced from the emerald canopy to the stark gray of the canyon walls and then looked down to the river snaking through its center. The foam on the water glittered in the midday sun.
"Ella is my baby girl. My only child. And I love her more than life itself. What more is there to know?" His voice had taken on a sharp edge, like the rock in the gorge. Even he could hear it.
Faith didn't speak as she gazed over her shoulder at the ravine, deep in thought. He guessed she regretted having come out here with him.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so--" He was losing control! His decision to cooperate wasn't standing. "--so brief," he said. His gaze followed hers, to the wild crashing waters below. He silently watched a yellow raft full of riders bob and dip in the whitewater.
"Do you ever let those defenses down?" Her voice was soft and non-threatening, but her words clubbed him with ample force.
He felt cornered. "No, I don't."
"Why is that, Garret?" This time her voice wasn't so soft.
"Why? Because your
"That bad? Then why haven't you withdrawn Raphaela?"
"I would. Actually, I wanted to--" He stopped. Why hadn't he? What the hell was he doing there now, trying to force himself to cooperate with a program he didn't believe in? It made no sense. "Marian was so damned insistent, I didn't have the heart to do it," he lied. When he'd made the decision to stay, he hadn't given a damn about Marian's pleas, but he didn't have a better answer.
"So, Marian feelings are more important than what is best for your daughter?" she asked, her eyebrows rose in surprise.
"No. I didn't say that. I would never say that."
"So why haven't you taken Raphaela home?" she challenged. Her tone annoyed him, and his anger flashed anew.
"In Ella's case, I think the risk of worsening her condition is minimal. She's profoundly autistic." He clamped his mouth shut. Had he just said that? Admitted something so painful he hadn't spoken the words in three years?
Faith dropped her gaze from his and with a twig etched something in the dust coating the boulder. He wished he could read her mind. Wished he could take back what he'd just said. Did she know the significance of his last statement?
"What about your personal opinion?" she asked.
"Personally, I find the techniques intriguing." That admission caught him by surprise as well. Why was he being so damned honest with this woman?
She nodded.
Silence. He hated it when yawning silence swallowed up a conversation. Especially when he'd revealed so much. He needed to fill the silence, change the topic, and move to safer territory. "I heard your argument with Mr. Roberts."
Wide blue eyes shot up, her gaze meeting his own. "What?" she whispered, her reaction taking him by surprise.
"I heard your discussion with Mr. Roberts. I was outside the door," he explained, trying to figure out why it bothered her.
She stared at him for a moment, chewing her lip. "Look, we're here to talk about you and Raphaela and Marian. If I decide I need a therapist, I'll let you know."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything--"
"It's okay. Let's stick to you and your family, if that's all right with you." She smiled, but it was a strained expression.
He forced his regard back to the river thrashing the rocks below. I guess the compliments will have to wait. "So what do you want to know about me? I'm really an uninteresting guy. Not much depth."
"For some reason, I don't believe that."
"Really. What you see is pretty much what you get."
Their gazes locked again, until Garret looked away, followed the rough-barked trunk of a nearby tree to outstretched branches, finally losing the green-cloaked limbs overhead where they tangled with the branches of other trees.
"Why don't you tell me about your relationship with Raphaela?"
He glanced from the emerald canopy to the stark gray of the canyon walls and then looked down to the river snaking through its center. The foam on the water glittered in the midday sun.
"Ella is my baby girl. My only child. And I love her more than life itself. What more is there to know?" His voice had taken on a sharp edge, like the rock in the gorge. Even he could hear it.
Faith didn't speak as she gazed over her shoulder at the ravine, deep in thought. He guessed she regretted having come out here with him.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so--" He was losing control! His decision to cooperate wasn't standing. "--so brief," he said. His gaze followed hers, to the wild crashing waters below. He silently watched a yellow raft full of riders bob and dip in the whitewater.
"Do you ever let those defenses down?" Her voice was soft and non-threatening, but her words clubbed him with ample force.
He felt cornered. "No, I don't."
"Why is that, Garret?" This time her voice wasn't so soft.
"Why? Because your
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