The Deep End of the Ocean by Jacquelyn Mitchard

Author:Jacquelyn Mitchard [Mitchard, Jacquelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: C429, Extratorrents, Kat
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2007-01-17T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Though in his opinion Kilgore had missed his calling as a vet (he had more horse pictures on his wall than they had at Churchill Downs), Reese didn’t entirely mind going back a second time.

It was partly the look on his dad’s face when Reese agreed to try seeing the shrink again.

It was the same look Pat got when he’d finished raking the oak leaves for the third time in the fall. Like he could pretend that during the winter, some magic thing would change and it would never be fall again and he would never have to do the same job. It was a look that in Reese’s mind was accompanied by the sound of someone dusting his hands together—there, that’s done. On the whole, Reese would have preferred scraping paint off the Sears Tower to another little get-together with Clue-Free Kilgore (“Call me Tom, or even Doctor Tom, if you want”—Reese couldn’t believe it). But he liked that it smoothed some of the wrinkles off his dad’s forehead, made his dad’s eyes open a little wider, like eyes that weren’t always trying to read little print. He knew that his dad had been after his mom, and Rosie and Angelo and Bill, to go to a meeting with Kilgore, too. Rosie didn’t care, but Bill wasn’t too cool on the idea (or so Reese could gather from the one side of phone conversations he was usually able to get, because his dad had this, like, sixth sense about someone being on the extension, even if you put a handkerchief over it and held your breath).

The real reason Reese didn’t mind going back to Kilgore had to do with Kilgore being a psychiatrist instead of a school social worker or something. Which Reese could easily tell, having spent a lot of time with school counselors when he was little over some goddamn school thing or other. Was he clinically depressed? Did he have (Reese’s favorite; it made him sound like the reverse-vitamin-enriched kid) underachiever syndrome? Reese could tell Kilgore wasn’t like the others because his office was decorated so cool, skinny white panels of handmade paper lined up with only one, the second to the last, violet, which went with some pillows Kilgore had on his couches. Now, if there had been two panels with purple, one on each end, it would not necessarily mean the guy had money. But the one, just the one, sort of thrown in there, was classy.

And sure enough, before he went back, Reese looked Kilgore up in the phone book and there he was, Thomas K. Kilgore, M.D.

So that meant Reese could tell him about the heart thing. Which he couldn’t tell his dad. Since Dad had the heart attack, Reese didn’t even feel like telling him when he had a sore throat. The heart thing—which had been going on for a while—would be a good way to use up time when he saw Kilgore again. It would distract Kilgore from Reese’s

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