And Then She Was Gone

by Noonan, Rosalind

  “You’ve done a good job with him, Dad,” Lauren said as the horse walked alongside Dan with barely a touch to the halter. “He trusts you now.”

  “And watch this. This is the ‘calm down’ cue I’ve taught him.” Dan paused and gently pulled the harness down. “Drop down, Hero.”

  The horse stopped walking and lowered his head, nearly touching the ground.

  “Good boy. Good boy!” Dan stepped close and praised the horse, rubbing his neck.

  Lauren smiled and reached up to pat the horse’s flank. “Perfect! You are both excellent students,” she said in a confident tone that reminded Dan of their teacher and therapist. “Did you move close to try and block his view?” she asked.

  “That’s part of it. If he gets scared by a moving squirrel or a piece of blowing trash, one of his big triggers, I can partially block his view of the thing that scares him. Of course, that won’t work if he gets startled by a loud noise like thunder. Can’t really put earmuffs on him.”

  “Right.” Lauren smiled and gave the horse one last pat. Then Dan cued the horse to lift his head and continue walking.

  “I see you two are ready for the true test,” Wynonna called.

  Dan turned to see the therapist and her younger son open the gate of the corral. Jazz held one hand behind his back, hiding the dreaded fear trigger.

  “Isn’t it mean to scare poor Hero deliberately?” Lauren asked.

  “It’s necessary so that we can teach him how to respond in a safe way,” Jazz answered. “We’re not hurting him, and this lesson could save him or his rider from danger. Without the ability to calm down, a horse can go out of control. He can hurt his rider and himself, too.”

  “It’s okay, Hero,” Dan told the big brown giant. The horse stared at him with soft brown eyes. Trusting eyes. “We’re gonna get through this.”

  Wynonna motioned Lauren to the gate, where they exited the corral to watch in safety. Lauren climbed the fence and leaned her elbows on the top plank.

  “Ready?” Jazz asked.

  “Go for it.” Dan took a calming breath, knowing that the slightest scent of fear on his part could amplify the fright factor for the horse.

  On cue, Jazz brought his hand out and tugged on a string attached to a wrinkled section of newspaper. He waved it through the air, as if trying to launch a kite. The airborne paper had all the rattle and unpredictability to send the horse into a nervous frenzy.

  Dan felt a tug on the lead as Hero pawed at the ground with his feet and started to back toward the fence.

  “Hero, drop down.” As he gave the order, Dan pulled down on the horse’s halter.

  Immediately, the horse’s head dropped to the ground as the rest of his body stilled.

  “Good horse!” Dan said, loving him up. “Good job.”

  “Nice!” Wynonna called. “Why don’t you try it a few more times so we can be sure he really gets it?”

  They took Hero through the exercise twice more. The last time, Dan held the horse in place while Jazz actually twirled the newspaper over the horse’s back. Poor Hero’s flanks were quivering, but the horse kept his head down.

  When Jazz removed the trash “threat” and the ladies came into the arena, Dan loved the horse up with sincere pleasure and trust. Who knew it would be so satisfying to keep repeating a simple lesson with a half-ton hunk of horse? But it was.

  “Nice work, Dan.” Wynonna tipped her hat back. “What does this tell us about dealing with fear?”

  “Try to distract yourself?” he said.

  “Sometimes that works. The thing is, we cannot remove the threat from a horse’s life, just as we can’t always remove the things that scare us from our lives.”

  Dan thought about Lauren’s worries over Mac, fears that kept her up at night. He thought of his own basket of fears, his worries about his girls, the fear that he could not protect them in this world.

  “We cannot stop the thunder or the stray leaf from scaring Hero. But now we have a way to help him deal with his fears. You know, a lot of people have a tendency to try to soothe an animal out of fear. When they get scared, we stroke them and say it’s all right. But that just reinforces them getting frightened. Instead, we need to distract the horse, just as you did, Dan, and save the praise for when he gets himself to a safe, relatively calm state.”

  “So are you saying we don’t always have to face our fears?” Lauren asked.

  “We don’t. Some fears may seem irrational, but they’re rooted in logic. Fear is nature’s way of warning us that something is a danger to us. If we see a man with a knife coming down the street, we feel fear and we run the other way. At least, we should. The gift of fear is our instinctive way of saving our hide.”

  Later that day, everyone assembled in the sunroom as rain poured down the glass walls all around them. Dan wore the horsehead cap with its ears turned down in a sign of sadness. “Mom and I are in a quandary. We’ve invited some close family and friends to your grandparents’ lake house for the Fourth, but now we’re not so sure the party should go off as planned.”

  “You want to cancel because you’re concerned about Mac?” Wynonna asked.

  “Well, yeah. It seems wrong to be celebrating without her.”

  “Are you planning to spend the evening out searching for her?”

  Dan and Rachel exchanged a look of doubt.

  “No. We wouldn’t be searching at night unless there was a good reason,” Rachel said. In fact, the search for Mac felt like an adventure into darkness, a river voyage into the heart of a suburban jungle in search of an unknown, unseen child.

  Wynonna pressed her lips together, deliberating before she spoke. “You can have the gathering, or cancel it. Either action isn’t going to affect your search for Mac. You may feel better keeping a low profile and not having to entertain. Or you might find comfort in the company of people who care about you.”

  Dan was impressed, though he half-expected the horse whisperer to add: “That is all, Grasshopper.”

  Chapter 44

  When she’d agreed to attend the Fourth of July barbecue at Doug and Alice O’Neil’s lake house, Paula had no idea there’d been some matchmaking behind the scenes. Very few people knew about her ties with Hank. She had been honest with Lauren only because the girl had asked, and Paula believed that a client had a right to some personal information about the caretaker she had attached to. Well, Lauren must have spilled the beans to Rachel and Dan; no sooner had Paula arrived than they rustled her down to the dock with a tale about the fabulous lake tour Hank gave on his boat.

  And though the yard was filled with more than half a dozen teens playing badminton, how curious that they weren’t interested in heading out on the water. Nope, it was just Hank and Paula, chugging out of East Bay on his shiny red boat.

  “Come sit beside me. I need a copilot,” Hank said, reaching out to her. She moved from her seat at the back and took his hand.

  “Lake tour my ass. We’ve been set up.” She sat beside him as he kissed her hand. So gallant. Hank had been alone a long time too, and he’d admitted his insecurity about how corny he became when dealing with the opposite sex.

  “It’s like one of those reality shows,” he said, navigating through the tunnel. “Only there’s just one bachelor and one bachelorette.”

  She sneaked over and sat on his lap in the dark. “One, my dear, is all you need.” Their lips met in a sweet kiss, and then she was back in her seat, hands in her lap. It wouldn’t do for the Mirror Lake police chief to be seen necking in a boat on the Fourth of July. She and Hank were going to have to break this to the community gently.

  They plunged from the shadows to the sunshine of the main lake, and she let out a whoop as Hank gave it some gas. Add the need for speed to his protective nature, gentle hands, and prowess with a pistol. Yes, this was love.

  With the wind lifting her hair and the gentle spray of lake water cooling her arms as Hank cut the boat right and left, Paula reveled in a youthful joy that took her
back to the days before she’d lost George. Their halcyon days, their Camelot, when each day ended with them watching the sunset from the porch, ice-cold martini in hand, while the kids played in the backyard. Although the future had seemed ripe with possibility, the present had been equally plentiful with the sense that they had faced the most atrocious obstacle of their life and won. George had served in Vietnam, survived the killing fields, the napalm bombings, the constant fear, and the maze of land mines. He had survived—returned home intact—and they had been granted a chance to enjoy each other and their children in the blessed peace and green space of western Oregon.

  Damn, but those were good days. She had thought they’d last forever, George and her. She’d been too wrapped up in her own world—the kids, the job, dinner and dishes—to notice that George was suffering posttraumatic stress at a time when most psychologists had no name for the disenfranchisement and depression that plagued Vietnam veterans. Looking back, she was glad that difficult chapter of her life had ended. Over and done.

  She had moved on, and now, this week, she was moving on once again, transitioning from full-time caretaker back to artist and social worker. She would miss Lauren, but this wondrous girl had blown her out of the water. Paula had no idea how empty her life was when that girl walked in. Sure, she had her art, and her job—so much paperwork and babysitting. Her grandchildren were delicious little things, but they lived down in the Bay Area, too far to be a regular part of her life. She had thought her life had been full, satisfying . . . self-actualized. But working with Lauren had shown her how far she had removed herself from the daily cares of the rest of mankind.

  And Lauren had taught her that growth and transition were still a viable possibility. Paula couldn’t even measure how much Lauren had progressed in one month. The wounded waif who had become her shadow from the day of recovery had evolved into a more assertive young woman, a person who had learned to question authority while maintaining a sensitivity that could warm the coldest heart.

  Yes, she would miss her needy companion, but she was grateful for the young woman she could call her friend.

  And then, there was the other relationship that had developed through her involvement with Lauren’s case: Hank. At this stage in her life, Paula had not been looking for love, but, oh, she’d found it in this warm teddy bear with a grizzly bear exterior.

  The lake was unusually rough from the wakes and swells created by the water traffic. After a few loops, Hank decided they might be better off taking the boat out when it was less crowded.

  “I will definitely take you up on that invitation,” Paula said.

  Hank headed back, cutting the boat’s speed down to a whisper when they noticed that the teens were now jumping off the dock and paddling kayaks and stand-up paddleboards out along the bay.

  After they tied off, Hank headed into the house, but Paula stayed back, claiming that she was unable to resist the “delicious sun” still lingering on the dock. She plopped herself in an Adirondack chair, closed her eyes, and listened. She had thought it might be good to lend some moral support to Lauren, but from the dynamics of the conversation, it was clear that Lauren did not need to be saved.

  Most of the girls were keenly interested in Jazz Eagleson, Wynonna’s son. They wanted to know about the ranch, about the horses, but he kept deferring to Lauren.

  “If you really want to know about horses, Lauren is the one to ask. I’ve never seen anyone get Yoda’s undivided attention the way she does. Yoda used to be the lazy man of our herd. Sometimes, you’d take him out to trot and he’d just pull up and freeze like a figure in a wax museum.”

  “Your mom told me that story, but I can’t believe it,” Lauren said. “Yoda is such a sweetheart, and he wants to please. He tries to do what you say.”

  “Maybe for you,” he teased. “You’ve got the magic touch.”

  The other girls eyed Lauren with envy, but Lauren didn’t seem aware of it. She just leaned back on the dock and splashed her legs in the water.

  Upstairs on the deck, the adults were talking shop once again. Rachel was selling Hank on a plan to scrutinize birth certificates for girls Mac’s age registered for nursery or preschool in the fall. Not a bad idea. Hank answered that they were in the process of reviewing the paperwork of all legal adoptions that had taken place in Oregon in the past six months. Wynonna’s husband, Vic, was discussing grilling techniques with Doug. Dan was talking about the canine dogs he’d seen in action on search-and-rescue missions.

  “They’re so well trained,” Dan said. “Great workers. I grew up with dogs in the house, and I miss that unconditional love. Dogs don’t see the color of your skin. They don’t know pretty from ugly or fat from thin. But they seem to know when you’re having a bad day. A dog, he just knows it. And he’ll come right over and put his nose to your knee and love you up.”

  “That’s it!” Wynonna shouted as she rose to refill her lemonade. “You need a dog! Two dogs. They make great home therapists for you and your kids alike.”

  “Oh, no, no!” Rachel interrupted her conversation with Hank to add her two cents. “If we get a dog, I get the privilege of walking it, feeding it, and cleaning up after it.”

  “Rachel, sweetheart.” Dan put his arm around his wife with a wide grin. “The therapist recommends it. How can you say no to man’s best friend?”

  “Easy. I just say no.”

  Laughter rippled through the group as the debate about adopting a dog carried on. As Paula helped set up for dinner, she shared her observations about the youth dynamic on the dock with Rachel and Wynonna.

  “How is Lauren doing with the group?” Rachel asked tentatively. “She’s not used to social situations with people her age, let alone so many. I thought it would be nice to invite Nora; I never expected that she would bring a handful of friends, but that’s what happens when you have a party on the lake.”

  “It’s something Lauren needs to learn to handle,” Wynonna said evenly. “She knows she can back off and take a break if it begins to be too much for her.”

  “When I was down there, she was doing just fine. All the girls are fawning over Jazz, which is understandable with a guy that adorable,” Paula said, shooting a look at his mom, “but Jazz seems to be sticking by Lauren. I don’t know if he’s trying to boost her self-confidence or if he really enjoys her company that much.”

  “Jazz is not a game-player,” Wynonna said. “He says what he means and stands by his word.”

  “And he’s a man? How refreshing,” Paula teased.

  “But doesn’t he have a girlfriend at college?” Rachel asked.

  “He did. I think they broke up, but we haven’t really discussed it. He’s working the ranch for the summer, and I’ve heard no mention of any visits from friends.”

  Rachel sighed. “Maybe it’s a moot point. Lauren told me they were just friends, that she was glad he had a girlfriend because that takes away the strain of even thinking about a romantic relationship.”

  “That’s very mature of her,” Wynonna said.

  “Mature, yes,” Rachel agreed. “But I don’t know if it’s true.”

  “Listen to us, talking about their relationships like old busybodies.” Paula shot a look out the window to the dock, where the kids were out of the water and wrapped in towels. Some headed up to the house to change for dinner. Squinting, she saw that Jazz and Lauren were the last two on the dock. Sitting side by side, they shared a big towel that was spread across their shoulders like a blanket.

  Good kids. Paula didn’t know what would come of their relationship, but she felt confident that the outcome would not harm Lauren. Whether she became the heartbreaker or the heartbroken, wasn’t the value in the relationship itself?

  The voyage. The journey. Whatever the destination, Lauren was on her way now, a traveler on the road of life. And she was going to be just fine.

  Chapter 45

  “It’s not such a bad place,” Lauren said, as if the ramshackle compound needed defending.<
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  She walked along the edge of the garden, some parts now overgrown with weeds as tall as Mac, while other areas bore the scars of the extensive digging that had been done during the search for the child’s remains. Hank said that they’d ended up bringing a bulldozer in, to be absolutely sure, and Lauren found herself wondering what she might have grown back here if she’d had a bulldozer. The plot of land had been much improved by the removal of the rubbish heaps and the old rusty car that she had finally gotten Mac to avoid after the little girl had scraped her arm on the door.

  The cabin was stained with dirt and mildew, and the shed still leaned precariously, as if a good, stiff wind would put the small structure out of its misery. The grounds were mottled with the scars of digging, but sunshine rained down on the open plot, redeeming it in the most natural way.

  “It’s not as bad as I remember it,” she told her mother, who had been careful to walk alongside her, as if she expected Lauren to faint or burst into tears or something.

  “Can’t put any blame on the place,” Mom said quietly. “You were a prisoner here. Terrible things happened to you here.” She scanned the fenced-in area, the garden, cabin, and shed. “And I can only imagine how lonely you must have been. But I don’t think that makes the land tainted.”

  “It’s hot back here.” The sunlight was stark, and the breeze didn’t make it past the trees that surrounded the compound, blocking it from outside view. Lauren shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, which she’d worn for the trek through the brambles outside the fence. They’d been good protection, but now she was hot and her throat was dry. She figured she could get water inside the cabin, but she didn’t have the nerve to penetrate the darkness yet.

  “Don’t get upset, Mom, but there was a time when I wanted to come back here. It was familiar and safe for me. I mean, I knew what I had here.” Her sneakers scraped over the spot where her tent had been set up. Now just a patch of compacted dirt, it had been her private home. Kevin usually left Mac and her alone in there, unless he had some crazy scheme going on.