Healing Sands by Stephen Arterburn, Nancy Rue Page B

pillows at the television. That only makes me want to tear the rest of the living room apart.”
    Sully was impressed. Innumerable expensive studies had shown that angry people who already knew they were ticked off didn’t feel better after they punched something out. That only worked for people who weren’t in touch with their anger—and that didn’t describe Ryan Coe.
    â€œAnd I don’t want the relaxation training, which I know is another method.” Ryan squinted as she shook her head. “That sounds too woo-woo to me.”
    â€œWoo-woo,” Sully said, grinning.
    Ryan gave him a hard look. “Look, can we get something straight, Dr. Crisp?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    â€œIf you find me amusing, this isn’t going to work out. At all.”
    Sully settled back in his chair, hands folded at his waist to keep from rubbing them together in anticipation.
    â€œI think you have an intelligent sense of humor,” he said. “I appreciate that. If you say something funny, I’m probably going to at least smile.” He did. “You’ll have to cut me some slack here.”
    â€œFine. Sorry.”
    Sully let out a buzz . As he expected, her face went deadpan.
    â€œWhat was that ?” she said.
    â€œThat’s my signal that you’ve broken one of the few rules I have. No need for apologies. We’re just getting to know each other here.”
    The small pointed chin lifted. “What are the rest of the rules, then?”
    â€œWe’ll discover those as we go along.”
    â€œNo,” she said.
    Sully felt his eyebrows rise.
    â€œI don’t want to hear that obnoxious buzzing sound again, so give them all to me now, and I won’t break them.”
    Sully considered arguing the point and thought better of it. If she was going to come out of this session still speaking to him, he’d better not antagonize her in the first five minutes. Although from the right-angle way she was sitting in a curl-up chair, he judged it might already be too late. Game Show Theology was going to be a hard sell with her.
    â€œFair enough,” Sully said. He spread a hand and ticked off his fingers. “The rules of the game, as it were. One, what we just discussed. Two, I won’t judge you, and you won’t judge yourself. Three—”
    â€œDefine judge. ”
    Sully let his hand drop. “Example. You came in with anger issues. I’m not going to tell you that you’re an evil person because you break a plate or scream obscenities. By the same token, you don’t get to say that about yourself either.”
    â€œSo you’re saying it’s okay to smash crockery and cuss.”
    â€œNo. I’m saying doing that doesn’t make you a monster. Our job is to find out why you do that—or whatever it is you do when you’re angry—and figure out a way to use that knowledge to give you the control you’re looking for.”
    She nodded, eyes still on him as if she were trying to soak him in. There was no doubt she wanted to fix this. He just wasn’t sure how patient she was going to be with the process.
    â€œBack to the rules,” she said. “And then I have another question.”
    With the strange sensation that he was the one being led down a path, Sully put up three fingers. “Number three, if we get to the end of a session and one of us is angry, we don’t leave without at least talking about it. We may not come to an agreement, but we don’t walk out muttering under our breath, either one of us.”
    â€œI didn’t think therapists got angry at their patients,” she said.
    â€œYeah, we get our hackles up, same as the next person.”
    She gave him another blank look.
    â€œWhat?” he said.
    â€œYou’re just not what I expected,” she said.
    â€œWhat did you expect?”
    She opened her mouth, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What