Abby woke me by knocking lightly, then coming in the guest room before I could say anything. Light spilled in from the hall.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“She’s in the shower. She needed to take one.”
I sat up quickly. “You left her-”
“It’s fine. The door’s open, and the water’s running. I helped her get undressed. She doesn’t have anything else to wear.”
“Where did she sleep?”
“In the bed. She slept a couple of hours at least.”
“Did she say anything?” I asked.
“She apologized for leaving and for scaring us.”
“Did she say where she went?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Did she say anything in her sleep?”
“I want to tell you something else. Something important.”
I was more insistent. “So she didn’t?”
“I was asleep, too, Tom.” Abby looked behind her, checking on the bathroom. When she turned back around, I took note of the fact that she looked calmer, more relaxed than the day before. Even with a lack of sleep, she looked refreshed. “I want to tell you that I feel good about the way things are going.”
“You do? Our daughter goes out the window, and you feel good?”
“I had a dream last night, while I was sleeping next to Caitlin. In my dream, there was this woman, and she came to our door here, the front door of this house. She was maybe twenty-five years old, and she was pregnant. She didn’t look like Caitlin, not at all. She didn’t even resemble her. But when I opened the door and saw her, I knew it was Caitlin. She was coming here to tell us she was pregnant. You see?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“It means she’s going to be okay,” Abby said. “She has a future, one that’s going to turn out fine. We just have to accept that this is the path we’ve been set on, and know that eventually we’ll get to the place we want to be. Like Dr. Rosenbaum said last night, this is a long road.”
Abby smiled down at me, with a forced smile I recognized. As Abby became increasingly involved with the church, I saw that smile more and more. The church believed in the power of positive thinking, and its members were encouraged to present a happy face to the world. I wasn’t sure if Pastor Chris actually taught his followers that they could change the world through smiling, but I wouldn’t have doubted it.
“And this dream made you feel better?” I asked.
“The dream and the way things worked out last night. Caitlin came back.”
“You know they told us the pregnancy test was negative? I don’t think I want a grandchild out of this deal.”
Abby’s facade melted. “Why would you say a thing like that, Tom?”
“I’m helping you interpret your dream.”
“Why do you always have to see the negative side of things?” She looked behind her again. “I was thinking of it metaphorically, that it was saying Caitlin could be happy again.”
“It just seems silly to place that much stock in a dream, doesn’t it?” I settled back against the pillows. “It’s wish fulfillment. Did you used to have dreams about Caitlin coming back?”
“Sometimes.”
“I did, too. And in those dreams, she would come home and she’d be happy to see us and we’d be happy to see her. And when she came in the door, we’d know where she’d been and how she’d been taken, and it always, always made sense, just like your dream made sense to you.”
Abby looked at the floor. I could tell she wasn’t showered yet, and I was reminded of the first nights we’d spent together, the mornings when Abby wouldn’t believe me that I thought she looked beautiful even then, just after waking up.
“We almost had another baby together,” I said.
“Oh, Tom.”
“Where was I when it happened? How did you hide it from me?”
She shook her head. “Tom. .”
“I want to know. I have a right to know.”
“You were at school. It was early in the day. The cramps were terrible, then bleeding. I knew what was happening.” She looked up. “I almost called you. I did.”
“But?”
“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell you.”
The water shut off in the bathroom. Abby turned away and said, “Are you okay, honey? I’m right here.”
Caitlin said something I couldn’t make out. Abby started to leave, but I said her name, stopping her.
“You called Pastor Chris, right?” I said. “He took you to the doctor.”
Abby nodded slowly. “When you came home that day, I was in bed. I said I had a stomach thing. You slept in here so you wouldn’t catch it.”
Before Abby could go again, I spoke up. “I just wanted to ask you one other thing, about this dream of yours. Something about it doesn’t make sense.”
“What, Tom?”
“Why-if Caitlin is coming to this house in the dream and in the future-why are you the one who’s here and opening the door for her? I thought you wanted to go.”
“It’s a dream, Tom. .”
“So it doesn’t mean anything? Or does it?”
Abby turned away.
“I’m going to help her get ready,” she said.
We went to a bland brick and glass office building downtown where Dr. Rosenbaum kept an office for his private practice. He met us in the reception area, and I expected him to have something to say about the night before and Caitlin’s attempted escape. But he didn’t. Maybe it was because she was there, or maybe he was simply in a hurry, but he told us he wanted to talk to Caitlin alone first. We let him lead her behind a closed door into his office, while we sat in uncomfortable chairs filling out the insurance forms the receptionist gave us.
No other patients came or went. There was no TV, no piped-in Muzak, and few magazines. I wished I’d brought a book, anything to distract me. Abby picked up a women’s magazine, something with the promise of diet tips plastered across the front, and started paging through. She turned the pages quickly, snapping them from the right to the left. Things hung in the air between us, heavy as lead. Her dream. The miscarriage. Pastor Chris.
We didn’t talk about them.
My phone rang. Liann.
I took the call out in the hallway.
“I was going to call you last night, as soon as I heard the news,” Liann said. “I wanted to scream when I saw it and come right over. But I figured you were occupied. How does it feel? How is she? Tell me.”
“We’re at the shrink’s office right now.”
“What’s wrong? You sound awful.”
I told her about the night before, about Caitlin coming home and almost immediately running away again.
“Now don’t even worry about that. That’s just a bump in the road. And there are going to be bumps along the way, I promise. That girl’s been through a lot. She’s confused. Very confused. You just have to hang in there.”
“Right.”
“I just wish. .”
“What?” I waited for an important insight.
“Shit. I wish we could have followed her,” Liann said. “She would have led us right back to that snake who took her. It would have been so easy, like a trail of bread crumbs. The cops are so dumb. They just want to run right out and grab her and bring her back. They don’t even want to stop and think.”
My face flushed a little. “I think they were concerned with her safety and getting her home again.”
“Did she say anything about the guy? Has she offered anything?”
“Pretty much the silent treatment,” I said. “She made me promise not to ask her any questions about where she’d been.”
“You didn’t agree to that, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
“Oh, Tom. You can’t make deals with her. She’s a child, and she has to tell us things.”
Us?
“Who’s the therapist you’re seeing?” Liann asked.
“Rosenbaum.”
Liann made a little humming noise.
“What?” The hallway was empty, and my voice echoed.
“He’s okay. He’s fine, really. He works with the police a lot. He’s very experienced.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“Can I come over and see her later?”
Before I could answer, Abby opened the office door and made an impatient, hurry-the-hell-up gesture at me. I held up my index finger, and she pulled her head back inside.
“I have to go, Liann. Look, I’ll call you. Things with Abby. . and Caitlin-it’s weird.”
“Of course, of course. Just call me tonight. We have a lot to talk about now.”
“Okay. I will.”
“Tom, this is a major break. We’ll find this guy. This is good.”
“And Caitlin-”
But she was already off the phone.
Rosenbaum came out with Caitlin. He asked us to come into his office and directed Caitlin to a waiting room chair. I hesitated.
“Caitlin will be fine right here. Won’t she?” Rosenbaum said. Caitlin sat down in the chair without looking up at us. “Mary?” He nodded at his receptionist, who nodded back, as though she understood the drill without anything being said. “Shall we?” Rosenbaum said to us.
Abby took a hesitant step forward but kept her eyes on Caitlin.
I felt torn.
I didn’t want to let her out of my sight, fearing a repeat of the night before.
But something else entered my mind, a sudden, darting thought I hadn’t anticipated:
Might it be better if we let her go?
Would everyone be happier if Caitlin wasn’t here?
I chased the thought away, pushed it down below the surface of my mind. I pointed to the door Rosenbaum had emerged from. “It’s okay,” I said to Abby. “They’ll keep an eye on her.”
We settled into chairs in Rosenbaum’s inner office. It held a small, uncluttered desk, several comfortable chairs, and even a chaise longue a patient could recline on. A pitcher of water and several glasses sat on a side table, and next to every chair-except the one Rosenbaum landed in-was a box of Kleenex.
“I received a call from Detective Ryan this morning, and he told me about your adventurous night last night. Remember, you could have called me if you needed to.”
“It was late,” I said. “Very late.”
“You’d be amazed at how many late-night calls I get,” he said. “Keep it in mind for the future. But I guess she did settle down and sleep a little?”
“She did,” Abby said.
“Good,” he said. “Her attempt to run away isn’t completely surprising. Although going out a second-floor window is pretty bold. That’s a first for me. Like I said, home is the unfamiliar environment right now.”
“What about-?” I pointed toward the waiting room.
“I don’t really think Caitlin’s going anywhere right now.”
“How can you be sure?” Abby asked.
“I can’t be,” he said, offering that same kind of forced smile. “But I think I am. Right now, none of us can really know anything for certain.” He crossed his legs, ankle on knee, and looked at us, his face pleasant. “I just wanted to touch base with you both about Caitlin and share my initial impressions of our first session.”
“What did she tell you?” I asked.
“Nothing. She didn’t open her mouth. That’s not unusual for someone who’s been through what she’s been through.”
“What has she been through?” I asked. “We really don’t know.”
“If I can be candid with you, the medical and police reports already tell some of the story. Based on that and other cases like this one, I suspect she has been the victim of some sort of sexual assault, most likely at the hands of whoever took her out of that park that day. And most likely this assault was repeated over the last four years.”
The same piercing pain hit me, but this time it came on like someone punctured my lungs, letting the air evacuate from my body. I looked at the floor while my mind raced, trying to find a glimmer of hope.
“So you don’t think she ran away?” I asked.
“She doesn’t fit the profile of a runaway. And whether she ran away originally or not, if a twelve-year-old girl has sexual relations with an adult man, it’s sexual assault.”
Abby remained silent, so I looked over at her. She looked dreamy, distant. While I stared she spoke up.
“Why did she leave again? You said she didn’t feel safe at home.”
“We don’t really know where she was going, but it’s possible she was trying to get back to whomever she was with. As for why she would go back, that too is fairly common in these cases. Quite a lot has been written about this phenomenon. A lot of case studies and research. You see, the victim identifies with the attacker as a defense mechanism. She becomes more attached to him than anything else. After four years, those attachments to this man run deep, much deeper than what she now feels for either of you.” Rosenbaum’s voice was calm, almost soothing, and somehow that made the impact of his words even more terrible. “I won’t kid you-this is a long, uphill climb here. Some of these victims never testify against the people who’ve harmed them. They never see it as a crime.”
“Jesus,” I said. I still didn’t feel like I could get enough air. Rosenbaum’s eyes wandered over both of us. There was more to say, and it looked like he was gauging whether or not we could handle it.
“Caitlin may think of this man as her husband. She may have been told this for the last four years. Adolescence is a profoundly important time in someone’s development. To have such trauma intrude upon that time can have catastrophic psychological consequences. I remember a case in Columbus during my residency. The young woman corresponded with the man who took her for many, many years, even while he was in prison.”
“Oh, God,” Abby said.
“We’re talking years of therapy here, not days or months. And we may never know exactly what happened while she was gone.”
He paused, but neither one of us said anything.
“It’s not just trauma for her, you know,” he said. “It’s trauma for you. How are the two of you handling the adjustment so far?”
“It’s only one day,” I said, grasping to put a positive spin on things.
“And an eventful one at that,” he said.
He smiled again. It seemed less forced and more natural. But I sensed his question for us was probing at something.
“I think-” Abby said, then hesitated before she began again. “I think Tom has some unrealistic expectations for Caitlin.”
“Oh?” Rosenbaum said.
“He wants to push, and like you said, it’s going to take time. A lot of time.”
“Tom?” Rosenbaum said.
“I came down hard on her last night.”
“This is before she ran away?” Rosenbaum asked.
“No, after.” I told him about it: grabbing the sketch and sticking it in Caitlin’s face, bringing her to tears. “Aren’t fathers supposed to ask those questions?”
“Yesterday, at the police station, Caitlin told Tom not to ever ask her any questions about where she’d been or what she’d been doing while she was gone,” Abby said.
“Very interesting,” Rosenbaum said. “And you said you’d honor that wish?”
“I did. At the time. Yes.” I tried to sound reasonable, to get them both to understand where I was coming from with the promise. “I was so thrilled to have her back, I would have said anything.”
Rosenbaum nodded, the wise sage. “I think it’s best if you honor that promise for now. If you make promises and don’t keep them, you’ll only widen the gap between the two of you.”
“But you’re going to get her to talk, right?” I asked.
“I’m going to try,” he said. “But she’s a teenager now, one with a lot of trust issues. At some point, I can’t force another person to say or do things they don’t want to say or do. Building trust with her will be a big key for both of you right now. It’s the best way to start to work against the events of the last four years. It’s like you’re starting from scratch in a way.”
“Don’t you think we should try to focus on the positive aspects of Caitlin being at home?” Abby asked. “We should welcome her and support her.”
“What do you think of that, Tom?”
I looked at Abby. “Abby and I are separated. Abby left me and moved out of our house. It’s tough for us to be supportive and put up a united front if I don’t know whether we’re united or not.”
Abby glared at me. “I’ve moved home for Caitlin’s sake,” she said. She turned back to Rosenbaum. “And we’ve already told Caitlin about our separation. She understands about our rough times, but we’re trying.”
“You know,” Rosenbaum said, “this process of recovery will be twice as difficult if there are unresolved issues between the two of you. We’re here for Caitlin, remember?”
“Okay,” I said. “I guess none of the other stuff is as important.”
“Abby?” Rosenbaum said.
“It’s not going to be a problem with me,” she said. “I’m focusing on the positive.”
Rosenbaum didn’t look entirely convinced, but he kept his concerns to himself. “Then I think we should go with that,” he said. “In the meantime. .” He leaned over to his desk and picked up a prescription pad and pen. “I’d like to put Caitlin on an antianxiety drug, something to help her feel less defensive and more at ease in your home. It might even help her sleep.” He scribbled, then extended the paper toward us. Abby took it and put it in her purse. “And remember,” he said, “I’m also here to help the two of you. If either of you find yourselves struggling with this adjustment, you can give me a call. Or I can recommend someone.”
“Doctor?” I said. “One more thing. When Caitlin came home last night, she fell asleep in her old room. I heard her talking in her sleep. She said, ‘Don’t send me back.’ She said it over and over. What do you think of that?”
“You mean do I know who she was talking to?”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry, but experience tells me she probably wasn’t talking to you.” He asked if there was anything else. I couldn’t imagine there could be, so I let him walk us to the door.