Deleted scene from upcoming Riverstar

Just like in the movies, scenes are sometimes cut from the final version of a novel. There are various reasons for doing so, most of which are all boring writer explanations no one cares about but other writers so I’ll spare you that. You’re welcome.

However, sometimes the cut scenes are still fondly thought of by their writer even though we cut them after it’s gently suggested by our trusted editor that it, “doesn’t move the plot forward.” And although we acknowledge it’s true, we still yearn to share them with our readers.

For example, in the case of the cut scene below, as I was deleting it from the manuscript I thought -

But it tells you so much about Bella Webber. And then there’s Valerie, based on a compilation of the several (cough, yes, it’s true) therapists I visited over the years. And I sent it to my friend Stephanie (a real life therapist) and she said it was pitch-perfect and I replied back well, I had enough sessions over the years to know a little about the subject...

And, so on and so forth. You get the idea.

So, anyway, I thought I’d share this one with you just for fun. And as a way to say thank you to all my Facebook fan page ‘likers’ and loyal followers on twitter. It’s just a little sneak peak into Riverstar, coming August 25th!

Happy reading. Big hugs.

**

Bella’s therapist, Valerie Cooper, had an office in Santa Monica in a high-rent office building overlooking the ocean. For what she charged an hour and how crazy most of the population of Los Angeles seemed, Bella figured she could afford it. Valerie’s office was on the top floor, triangular in shape with two chairs and a couch. Bella always chose the chair facing away from the window because it looked directly below to the street. On the table next to her was a miniature zen garden with white sand and a rake the size of a fork.

Bella sat in her usual spot, glancing into the Zen garden. She looked up at Valerie, startled. Someone had drawn the same symbol painted in her hallway into the sand. “This is the Chinese symbol for courage, isn’t it?”

“It is. My client before you is Chinese.” Valerie crossed her legs, holding a steaming cup of tea in both hands. She wore a green and blue wrap dress, flattering to her slim figure and age appropriate for someone in their late-forties. Everything about Valerie was in symmetry, blond hair cut in a long, sleek bob, her fingernails trimmed neatly and painted pink. “Why?”

“Someone painted it in the hallway outside my apartment but they painted over it right away. I kind of missed it when it was gone.”

“Do you feel there’s significance in this?” Valerie wore almost no make-up, just foundation, blush and mascara. Bella would use the “River Valley” collection on her, adding more green the color of the river to her eyelids so her hazel eyes would pop and a light brown liner on the upper and lower lash line. And she needed more blush, a pale pink rose spread over the apple of her cheeks. All of this would take five years off her face.

“Which part?” asked Bella. “That it was there in the first place or that I missed it when it was gone?”

“No, that it’s here as well as on your wall.”

Bella shook her head. “Just a coincidence, that’s all.”

“When you learn a new word you see it everywhere.” This was said as a statement. Valerie blew on her tea. Steam rose about her face. She tucked the left side of her bob behind her ear.

“Sure.”

Valerie, her light eyes unblinking, gazed at her in silence for a moment. This was something she did, Bella knew from experience, to encourage her to offer up further information. Bella fiddled with the zipper on her sweater. Valerie sipped her tea; the woman was comfortable with silences.

“It’s my birthday today.”

“I know. How does that feel?”

She shrugged. “Like I’m a loser.” There was the lack of love, the inability to seize an opportunity despite the support from Drake and Gennie. She said as much to Valerie who remained unflinchingly focused on her face.

“Do you feel ready to start the business?”

“No, and I don’t know why except I lack this.” She pointed at the Zen garden. “I’ve been dreaming about it for ten years and yet, here I am.”

“Where are you?”

“Stuck.” There was a long silence. Bella crossed her legs and uncrossed them a second later. She picked up the tiny rake from the garden and ran the prongs over the back of her hand. “Mabel and Frank are selling the diner.”

“Does this bother you?” The corners of Valerie’s mouth twitched. “Besides losing the blueberry pancakes?”

“I feel angry about it. Why do they have to leave?” She tapped the rake into the palm of her hand and then traced her lifeline with the outermost prong. “Don’t get me wrong, I get that’s weird.” She hesitated, thinking through how to describe what it was exactly that bothered her.

“Does the familiar feeling of abandonment come up for you?”

“Yeah. They’re leaving. Just like everyone does.”

“Is that true?”

Bella ignored the question. “I had the dream again. Twice now since I’ve been back from Oregon.” She felt small suddenly in the wide chair. And tired. How good it would feel to curl up on the couch and forget this work of therapy, this work of life.

Valerie nodded, her face revealing no emotion. “Was it the same as always?”

“Pretty much.” She put the rake back in the sand, resisting the urge to ruin the Chinese symbol of courage with a barbaric X or zigzag. She unzipped her sweater and slipped it from her shoulders, letting it bunch around her waist. “Only this time it was Ben holding me over the edge of the building.”

“And the faces down below?”

“No one I knew this time.” Sometimes it was her mother or Drake or Gennie, recently Annie and Alder.

“You feel vulnerable after Ben rejected you. This seems obvious.”

“Yeah, right.”

Valerie set down her cup of tea, leaning forward slightly. “What does this tell you?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed, feeling like a rebellious schoolgirl. “Can’t you just tell me the answer?”

“You already know the answer.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“In the dream, when your father threatens to drop you, what do you feel?”

“Same as when he did it for real. Terrified. And then I wake up.”

“So just as in real life, the dream stops when the memory of that day stops.”

“That’s right.”

“Bella, I’m going on instinct here and could be incorrect, but I feel there’s something important in remembering what happens after you’re pulled to safely. Do you want to try and remember?”

“How?”

Valerie gestured towards the couch, smiling. “This might sound cliché, but I think you should lie down and close your eyes. I’ll talk you into a relaxed state.”

Bella stifled her immediate inclination to make a sarcastic comment. She did as Valerie asked, shoving off her tennis shoes in case there was sand stuck in the ridges.

Valerie’s voice was low and soothing as she instructed her to relax her body, starting with her toes and working up. This was the kind of relaxation exercises Gennie did before shooting a scene, Bella thought. After they’d reached to the top her head, Valerie said, “Now, go back to that day. Remember the moment when he had you over the side of the building.”

There was the smell of her father, body odor and stale booze and old cigarette smoke. His eyes were wild and unfocused, with small red stripes. He sat with his feet dangling over the edge and held her by the waist with both hands. She knew not to kick or wriggle because it might send them both over. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” She screamed, turning her head to see her mother standing with her hands clasped together. Her mouth was moving but Bella couldn’t hear what she said, only her father’s voice, rough in her ear.

“Don’t come any closer, Alice, or I drop her.”

The crowd below gathered in clumps. Bella knew there were five stories to the sidewalk. Five sets of stairs to their apartment when the elevator was broken, which was often. The rain was a drizzle. She heard the sound of a siren. It sounded far away. Would the firemen come like in Drake’s book he kept by his bed? Would they have a tall enough ladder? And then suddenly, they were yanked back, toppling together, Bella landing on top of him in a backwards embrace. Her mother came then, gathering her up in her arms, crying into Bella’s hair. She squeezed her eyes shut. Would he come and push them both over? “Run, Mommy, run.” Was this a whisper or a silent scream? She heard heavy footsteps on the roof, coming towards them. Peeping over her mother’s shoulder, she saw two men in blue uniforms. Policemen. They had guns pointed towards the floor. She shifted her gaze. Drake was on their father, straddling him, pummeling him with the heel of his hand. One of the cops yanked him up and still Drake struggled, his arms and legs flailing. “Let me go. I’m not done,” he shouted.

Now, in the safety of this benign office in a climate that remained 72 degrees Fahrenheit into perpetuity, she sat straight up and looked at Valerie. “It was Drake who pulled us back.”

Valerie moved forward in her chair. The notebook fell from her lap to the floor. “Your brother?

“Yes. I always figured it was the police or something. But it was Drake.” Bella went on, almost breathless. “I was worthless, disposable, like a piece of trash someone tossed out the window of a car. He hated me. Me, not Drake or my mother. Me.”

“Bella, it had nothing to do with you. He was a drug-addict going through the beginning stages of detox. He was out of his mind.”

Bella let the tears come, wiping them absently, the pain so deep inside it could not be expressed with sound and the hot tears leaked and slid down her flaming cheeks. She let the hurt be there, let it consume her. “I loved him, you know. Would clamp onto his leg when he tried to walk out the door. It took both Drake and my mother to pull me from him. Why did I love a man incapable of loving me back?”

“Because that’s what little girls do, Bella. They love their daddy’s no matter how much or little they deserve that love.”

“But it was Drake.” She held the tissue box close, like a child might do with a stuffed animal. “It was Drake who pulled us to safety. He wasn’t even ten years old and he pulled a large man and a child to the middle of rooftop.”

“And what does that tell you?”

She began to cry again, pulling more tissue from the box. “That there’s a man who always loved me even when he was too young to know how. Even then, he did. And he’s taken care of me ever since.” Drake had rushed him. Only ten years old and he’d taken him out. Drake was the brave one, the bold one – a man of few words but always one of action, demonstration. Not like her: weak and frightened all the time.

“And he believes in you, Bella, or he wouldn’t offer up a small fortune for your business idea.”

“Yeah, he believes in me. If I could just believe in myself.” The hot tears continued. She wiped her eyes and nose with the tissues the impassive Valerie handed her.

When she looked up, Valerie’s eyes were soft, sympathetic. “Do you think this relationship you set up with Graham was like the one with your father?”

“How so?”

“Always holding onto his leg as he was headed out the door?”

Bella stared at her. “But why would I do that? I hated it when my father left. I hated it when Graham left.”

“Because we often duplicate the relationships we had with our parents without being aware of it. We gravitate towards what we know. Unfortunately, that’s what we’re comfortable with.”

And her mother? She’d left too. Everyone leaves.

“What else, Bella?” Valerie’s eyes were intense on her now but her voice gentle.

“My mother left. Everyone leaves.”

“Drake hasn’t left. Gennie hasn’t left.”

Go north.

“I’m going to take the job in Oregon. Gennie needs me. She hasn’t left.”

Valerie’s eyebrows rose and fell. She picked up her notebook from the floor. “All right.”

“This was good work today, Bella. Do you understand why?”

“I think so.”

“Good. This was a major breakthrough for you.” She pointed at the clock. “Let’s continue this next session but for now, time’s up.” She rose to her feet, smoothing her wrap dress over slender hips. “And happy birthday, Bella. Welcome to the rest of your life.”