“And have a few minutes without people.” His gaze was understanding.
“Well, yes.” Did that make her a total wimp?
“Then I’ll fetch food and snag a couple of cookies for when you get back.”
She smiled in relief at his easygoing acceptance. More than once, Ross had called her neurotic when she’d needed space. “I love you.”
He kissed her forehead. “Off you go.”
Once on the lawn, she glanced back and grinned. He hadn’t made it halfway to the cookie table before being stopped. Because everyone talked to Saxon.
Even her.
After a few turns in the garden, Murphy found what Beth called a moon garden.
Wow. It was late enough that the moon was high. Silvery light bathed a clearing with columnar evergreens on two sides. The back “wall” was a trellis of white moonflowers.
In the center, masses of golden evening primroses circled a gazing ball on a pedestal. A light breeze swayed the long metal pipes of a wind chime to send deep melodic harmonies into the air.
This was what she needed, yes. Taking a seat on a wooden bench, she rested her gaze on the moon garden, breathed in the tranquility, and let her mind empty.
A while later, she heard the scuff of someone’s feet and looked around.
Master Z stood at the entrance. “Might I join you?”
“Please.” She motioned to the chair next to her bench. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you.”
Crossing the clearing, he walked so silently she knew the sound of his arrival had been deliberate, a way to avoid startling her.
After seating himself, he opened his hand, palm up, in an invitation for her to proceed.
“Well. Right. I had a panic attack today—at the gazebo where Aaron attacked me. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
Obviously surprised, he lifted an eyebrow. “No?”
“Eh.” She shrugged. “I blundered into the area without thinking. I’ll just stay out of the gardens in the future.”
“That’s one approach.” The way he phrased his comment implied there were other solutions…and perhaps avoidance wasn’t the best one.
“Is there a better solution?”
“Were you taught grounding exercises?”
She nodded. Her psych friend had helped her with several techniques. “I found that counting and touching stuff around me worked the best for me.”
“Excellent.”
As a child, she’d have done anything to earn an approving smile like Master Z’s.
He waved in the direction of the Capture Gardens. “Rather than avoidance, consider dealing with your fears. First imagining, then visiting the area—and being prepared for anxiety will probably let you desensitize yourself to it.”
Deliberately court a panic attack? A shiver ran through her.
“Murphy.” His gaze met hers. “You will, of course, take Saxon with you.”
Oh. “That might work.” No it would probably work.
“Let me or another counselor help you with this, please.” The look he gave her said this point wasn’t negotiable.
Instead of feeling as if she was being pushed around, his directive felt nice. Like he cared.
She sighed. Saxon wasn’t the only stubborn Master in the world. “Yes, Sir.”
“Very nice.” His grin flashed and was gone. “Now, what did you want to discuss?”
The unhappy lump in her chest returned. “Considering the way gossip moves through the Shadowlands, I’m guessing you know how my father tried to break me and Saxon apart?”
Master Z inclined his head. “I heard, yes. What are you planning to do?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Anger stewed inside. Unable to sit, she rose to pace across the soft grass. “He deliberately lied to Saxon. Even boasted to my brothers about doing so.”
“Some people might sever all connection after such a betrayal.”
“It was a betrayal.” Her voice shook. “A horrible one. But he’s my father.”
“And you love him, deserved or not.”
The sympathy in Z’s voice made her eyes burn. “Yes. Do you have any advice?”
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he thought. Then his gaze met hers. “You’re a writer; you’ve probably brainstormed plots?”
She blinked at the way he veered off course. Weren’t they talking about her father? “Yes. I do that with some other authors.”
“With brainstorming, you take what you want—or use the ideas to springboard your way to something that works for you.”
“Yes.” Like when a friend suggested a theater setting, but the thought led her to a London amphitheater and the earliest version of a circus. “I do that.”
“Good. Can you remember that any advice is just another variety of brainstorming? Only you know what you want your book to say…and only you know how you want to live your life.”
Oh. He was ensuring she knew she was ultimately in charge of what to do. “I never thought of taking guidance in that way, but I understand.”
He nodded approval. “In that case, my advice is for you to put your relationship with your father into a timeout, perhaps a year or two, with no contact whatsoever.”
“What?”
“Murphy, I heard about his visit after you were injured—as well as your brothers’ reactions to his behavior.” His lips quirked. “The Shadowlands members enjoy their gossip.”
Boy, it was worse than she thought.
“I would surmise your relationship with your father has been…toxic…for quite a while. Both in the way he treats you and the way you enable him.”
She winced. “I’ve been trying to stand my ground.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. However, interactions can be difficult to modify—especially with a parent. Complete avoidance for a set period of time might allow you to change the patterns and provide your father with a taste of consequences for his actions. Set a firm date for when you would be willing to reconnect. By that time, you’ll have an idea of whether you want him in your life or not. If you do, you can inform him then of the boundaries he’ll have to respect if he wants you in his.”