The next teaser from my latest book, "Into Each Life ..."

   After obtaining his doctorate and counseling license, Doc had spent five years working with inner city runaways in Minneapolis. At the same time, he held a counseling position at a juvenile detention center. From there he moved on to a suburban family counseling practice with an emphasis on teenagers. When he landed at Nachala he had a well-rounded resume dealing with youth from every imaginable background.
   Most psychiatrists decorate their office according to their tastes or their expectations of what adults might expect. Doc understood that the business he was involved in was making his clients, which were young people, as comfortable as possible. His office looked like an amalgam of a teenager's home bedroom, a college dorm, and the first bachelor pad of young adult male. Posters of the latest hip bands and singers adorned the walls. A few pieces of simple furniture with pine framing and bland-colored fabric dotted the space. A coffee table and a couple of end tables made of black metal and glass rounded out the look. The finishing touches were a used college dorm desk he'd picked up at a yard sale and a mini college-boy fridge.
   In violation of the Home's strict policy, but keeping with the college theme, he kept a few beers in the fridge at all times. A padlock kept his secret safe, especially from the boys. He kept a hoodie in his desk drawer that he threw on the floor in a heap before the start of each counseling session.




[Doctor Ben Droessler - “Doc.” The on-campus psychiatrist of Nachala Home for Boys]

The next teaser from my latest book, "Into Each Life ..."

   “You need to be aware that this could manifest itself in strange behaviors.”
   “What are you saying? That we shouldn't use the system on him this weekend?” Christine said.
   “No I'm not saying that. You should still use the system. He needs to learn that he's accountable for his actions, even if he's homesick. Just use a little wisdom and be prepared to de-escalate situations.”      Doc made a note to himself on his little pad of paper.
   “What are you writing?” Christine said.
   “Um, honey, don't you think that's a little nosy. Not everything is about you,” Richard said.
   “It's okay,” Doc said. “It is about her, about how difficult she's being.”
   Christine's eyes grew wide with anxiety.
   Doc smiled mischievously. “Christine, you're so easy.”
   She slapped him on the arm and laughed in relief.
   “Seriously, I made a note to myself. I'm going to put Jamie on an antidepressant.”
   “Is that necessary?” Richard said.
   “Hey, who's the doctor here?” Doc said, smiling.

[Christine, the female houseparent in the cottage where Jamie is placed, and a surrogate mother-figure]

The next teaser from my new book, "Into Each Life ..."

   Thus far I've introduced the main characters from the first half of the book, and I've shared a snippet of the wordless communication which Jamie and his mother Crystal share to express those things which are too terrible or painful to voice aloud.

   At this point, I will introduce the main characters in the second part of the book, when Jamie goes away to a group home for troubled teenagers.





   The houses were similar in design, but each was unique in its own way. Some were painted white, some yellow, and some were light blue. All had two stories and a covered porch. Some porches had rocking chairs, some had porch swings, and some had wrought iron furniture. All of the yards were beautifully landscaped.
   In the front yard of each of the houses an engraved wooden sign hung from a post, with a bed of mulch at the base which was bordered by small white rocks. Each sign had a different name on it. One said Ahlbrecht Cottage. Another said Chamberlain Cottage. The blue house with the porch swing was named Fitzgerald Cottage. On the front lawn, a man threw a football to a boy who looked to be about the same age as Jamie. The man was tall and strong. His physical presence was intimidating, but he had a pleasant demeanor. He waved at the car as they drove by. Jamie hesitantly waved back.
   Jamie's heart swelled with the anticipation of an idyllic life in that enchanted place. He dreamed of days filled with adventure, evenings around the dinner table where everyone was polite and smart like in the old movies his mom liked to watch, and hope for the future, for his future. There was a palpable peace and tranquility about Nachala, but it all seemed too good to be true. No place could be that perfect, and besides, if there were such a place, Jamie couldn't believe he deserved such a life. If he did, why had his life been such hell up to that point? His inner battle was one that would not easily be won.

[Richard, the male houseparent in the cottage where Jamie is placed, and a surrogate father-figure]