Thank You, God.
In an effort to keep his mind off the kidnapping, he forced it to concentrate on calm, ordinary subjects. Like his job, for instance.
His job as an Innkeeper was not a nine to five occupation. Obviously. The days started early and they ran late. And if a guest needed him in the middle of the night, he’d oblige.
When he and Marianne took the plunge eight years ago and bought the Seaside Inn, it was a dream and a hope. A dream come true for both of them to own a beautiful, rustic seaside hotel. A hope that they’d make it work without losing their shirts.
It was one of the things he loved most about Marianne — her willingness to try new things, and her unwavering determination to make it work. The early days were hard. Not only were they renovating the Inn, little by little (much of the work done by his father-in-law, Hank to save on costs), but they weren’t filling all the rooms and maximizing their income. The Inn had been vacant for several years prior to their ownership so they had to get the word out.
Which they did … and with persistence and a little elbow grease, they developed a reputation for offering a fantastic beach vacation. The days of scraping month to month to make ends meet were over.
The Seaside Inn was their home as well as their livelihood. They rarely left it. Sure, they got burnt out sometimes with all the responsibility, but he wouldn’t want his life any other way.
His pedicure ended sooner than his ladies’. They had to not only get color stroked onto their nails, then the evidently endless process of blowing them dry under some sort of fan contraption. He took advantage of the wait to call the Inn.
His father-in-law answered. “Hey Hank, it’s Tom. How are things going?”
“Fine, just fine. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying some time off with your ladies?”
“Yes, you’re right. But I have to admit, man-to-man, I’m going a little crazy here. We’re been at the nail salon for over an hour and they’re not even done yet.”
Hank laughed. “This your first time to one of those fancy nail places?”
Tom pulled the phone away from his ear and gave it a dubious look before placing it back to his ear. “Well, of course it is. What do you think?”
Hank’s chuckle continued. “Well, rest assured. Nothing has happened that Leslie and I haven’t been able to handle. In fact, I’ve noticed some odd jobs that I could tackle for you during slow times, if you want.”
Tom rolled his eyes. His father-in-law, the lifelong handyman. Not only could he do Tom’s job with his hands tied behind his back, he had time leftover to make home improvements as well.
“Have at it, Hank. And thank you. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate the help from you and Leslie.” He was still laughing when he hung up.
“What’s so funny?” Marianne and Stella were making their way over to the cashier, walking uncomfortably with their toes sticking up, pushed into odd, thin sandals. The price of beauty.
“Your dad. He must think we have it easy over there at the Inn. He’s not only keeping up with the guests’ demands, he thinks he has time to do some odd jobs he noticed.”
She shook her head and shrugged. “Let him. He never sits, that one. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word relax.”
Tom paid the bill, tipped all three nail specialists and held the door for his family as they exited to the car. “Not bad,” he admitted. “My feet have never felt or looked this good.”
Marianne smiled at him. “I’ll never tell.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Tom pulled into the parking lot of the doctors’ complex and found the office with “Stephanie Reynolds, Licensed Clinical Social Worker” etched into the glass door. After giving their name to the receptionist, Tom collected a clipboard containing about two hundred medical questions, and something called an informed consent form. He handed it directly to Marianne. She took it without question and began pounding out the answers.
The wait wasn’t long before they were called back. Unlike what Tom was accustomed to — a sparse doctor appointment room with white walls, cold tile and an examining table — this office was a cross between a child’s playroom and a sitting room in someone’s home. No table, no desk, just comfortable chairs and a loveseat. And in the corner, a place for a child to sit on the floor and play with blocks or cars.
Stephanie Reynolds, LCSW sat on an easy chair with a folder in her lap, flipping through the mountain of forms Marianne had just provided her. She looked up with a smile when they walked in.
“Welcome! So happy that you’re here.”
The woman sounded sincere and happy. He looked down at Stella. She loved adults in general, spending so much time with them at the Inn. She was comfortable and at ease around grownups. His heart warmed to see that her face turned into an easy grin at the counselor. He supposed it was part of Ms. Reynolds’ job to build a rapport with children so they open up and talk.
Marianne and Tom sat on the sofa, and Stella climbed onto Marianne’s lap. Stephanie hummed a faint tune under her breath as she finished studying the paperwork. Finally, she set the clipboard aside, looked up at them and presented a magnificent smile.
“So, here’s how this will work. I’ll talk with Stella for a while with you in the room. Please don’t interrupt our conversation, but listen. At some point I may decide to excuse you and talk to Stella alone. At that point, you can walk back to the waiting room. We’ll make further plans when I’ve had a chance to make a determination from my chat with Stella.”
Marianne nodded, but Tom asked, “Will you ever interview my wife and I?”
“Possibly, but again, it’ll depend on what I discover from Stella. All ready? Stella, please call me Stephanie.”
Stella looked a little nervous, but hopefully the licensed professional could get her to open up and talk.
Stephanie held her hand out towards Stella. “Want to go sit on the floor and play with Legos?”
Stella grinned, nodded and jumped off her mom’s lap. She settled onto the floor with crossed legs while Stephanie dumped a bucket of the plastic toys in front of her. Stella immediately dove into pushing one into the next, connecting them and soon forming a tall tower. Stephanie joined in, forming her own creation. Stephanie and Stella giggled as they competed on who could build the highest structure. Tom watched them play, and minutes ticked by. He was just starting to wonder how long play period would go on, when Stephanie started a conversation.
“I heard you had a scary experience yesterday, Stella.”
His little girl nodded.
“Tell me what happened. First, how did you meet this man, what was his name?”
“Grandpa Joe. He helped me make my sand castles on the beach. He was really nice. At first.”
“Where did he make sand castles with you?”
“On our beach, right behind the inn. I always go back there and dig and sometimes people help me. You know, people staying at the inn. I thought that’s who he was.”
“Do you go on the beach by yourself?” Stephanie asked.
“Yeah.”
“But I always know where she is,” Marianne said.
Stephanie’s head came up in their direction. “It’s okay. I’m not judging and I’d like to hear your recollection of the events in a few minutes, but for now, I’d like Stella to tell me what she remembers.”
Tom put his hand on Marianne’s knee and widened his eyes, his index finger over his lips in a “shhh” gesture. She whispered, “I don’t want her to think Stella has free run over the whole place. She doesn’t. I always know where she is, even when I’m busy inside.”
Tom held his hand up in a stop motion. He turned back to the conversation.
“So how many times had this Grandpa Joe played sand castles with you?”
Stella sighed, looked up in the air. “Three. No, four. Four!” She shrugged. “Lots of times.”
Tom’s chest tightened as he thought about the man making periodic visits to his little girl, a
nd Stella befriending him, just like she did every other guest at the inn. So trusting, so innocent. Why wouldn’t she befriend him? He’d never want her to be suspicious of people.
And yet, now she had to learn to be. Innocence lost, at five years old. His hands tightened into fists as he struggled to control his temper.
“What did you and Grandpa Joe talk about? Did you talk much?”
Stella shrugged. “We talked sometimes. He said he had a little girl like me, only she’s a grown up now. He said she was his favorite girl in the world, only now I’m one of his favorite girls too.”
Tom shuddered. Grandpa Joe’s girl — Emma — Jeremy’s girlfriend. None of this would’ve happened — all of this would’ve been avoided — if Jeremy and Emma weren’t dating. Had they not met, had they not gotten together, Emma’s psychotic father wouldn’t have concocted this elaborate scheme for destroying Jeremy. A scheme involving Stella, the little pawn in the middle.
“Grandpa Joe gave me a necklace.”
“He did? When?”
“A little while ago. It had a pink sparkly stone.”
Tom looked over at Marianne. She was staring at the conversation, looking nauseous. She shifted her gaze to him, and shook her head. He whispered to her, “The old man gave her a necklace? Did you ever see her wearing it?”
Marianne shrugged and shook her head.
The story continued, little by little. The man befriended her, gave her gifts, helped her build sandcastles, so that when it was time to entice her to get in the car with him, she followed him. Without a thought, without a doubt. Because he’d told her that Mommy had asked him to bring her somewhere, and Stella had believed him.
Thank God she was safe. Thank God he hadn’t hurt her. But what price would she pay?
There were a few tears when Stella got into the scary part of the story — when she realized that Grandpa Joe was a bad man, and she was in danger. When his precious little five-year-old daughter realized that she had to fight for her life and try to escape. She was locked into the car, as it careened down the road, and she had to jump and roll to get out.
The tears weren’t from Stella. Stephanie was doing a good job of keeping her calm and preoccupied with the Legos. No, the tears came from Marianne beside him.
He turned to her and her cheeks were wet, her lips trembling. He didn’t want her to scare Stella again, so he stood, took her arm and guided her out the door into the corridor.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She pushed her shoulders up and down, shook her hands out. “It was just so hard to hear all that, straight from her mouth. I can’t imagine what she went through.”
“We failed her, Marianne.” Tom looked at her, eyes wide. “We didn’t keep her safe. We let a stranger into our home and he befriended her, then kidnapped her. And we knew nothing about it. We failed her, you and I.”
Marianne shook her head. “We won’t let it happen again. We won’t take our eyes off of her.”
“But it happened once. Once too many.”
“Are you saying it was our fault?”
“Ours. And your brother’s.”
Chapter Four
“Jeremy! This was Jeremy’s fault? Have you lost your mind? Jeremy was the one who found her! We may not have her home safely if it wasn’t for Jeremy.”
“Lower your voice,” Tom said, sounding tight and menacing. “You need to control yourself so we don’t have another episode.”
She shook her head, confused. “Episode?”
“Of you scaring Stella. Your tears and yells and over-the-top warnings are not helpful to her recovery. You need to remember that you’re the adult here. For Stella’s sake.”
Marianne’s first impulse was to argue, to blow up, to push back. Of course she was the adult here! What was he insinuating, that Stella was acting more like an adult than she was? But that reaction was exactly what he was warning her against. So instead, she scrubbed her hands over her closed eyes, took a deep breath and spoke with restraint and poise.
“What are you insinuating, Tom?”
He looked down at her and studied her face for some seconds before he answered. “You coddle your brother. It’s unhealthy. And … you’ve scared Stella several times. That needs to end.”
Marianne gasped. She wasn’t used to accusations from her husband. They were a team — they were partners in every way possible. They raised Stella together, they ran their business together, they lived together, they loved each other. They were more often in sync than not, from a goals and vision perspective. They had similar views and they rarely argued.
Maybe he was so distraught over what had happened to Stella that he was taking it out on her. Understandable. Nothing so horrible had ever happened to them. However, she was crumbling apart. She needed him to be the strong one so she could lean on him. She had not quite considered that it would be the other way around.
“Tom, you’re not thinking straight. Come on, now. Let’s not attack each other. Let’s lean on each other to get through this.”
He looked like he was going to respond, thought better of it, and closed his mouth. Then, “We’ll talk later. I want to hear the rest of Stella’s answers.”
He slipped back into the therapist’s office. She watched the door close after him and she shivered. Her hands shook as she to wiped the new tears popping into her eyes. She was a hot mess. Her emotions were on the fritz over what had happened to Stella, and now Tom was being intentionally obtuse.
She’d try to give him a break. Maybe he was losing it as well. But it wasn’t like Tom to place blame and make her feel bad. Once things settled down and life was more normal, she’d approach him about it. He’d most likely see reason and apologize. And things could get back to normal.
Meanwhile, she wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, shook out her arms, and went back into the office.
* * *
The appointment with the therapist took about ninety minutes, total. From Marianne’s untrained eye, it appeared Stella was perfectly fine — her happy, well-adjusted little five-year-old daughter. However, she was interested in hearing what the professional thought.
Stephanie called in an assistant to play with Stella with the toys, and she sat in a far opposite corner of the room at a table, motioning for Tom and Marianne to join her. They took their seats, and she opened a notebook she’d used to take notes during her interview with their daughter.
“You’ll be happy to know that I don’t think Stella’s going to have any long-lasting emotional impact from this incident.”
Marianne let out a whoosh of relief, and reached across the table for Tom’s hand. His unencumbered smile gave her hope that the real Tom was back. “So you’re saying, no negative effects from the kidnapping?”
“I won’t go so far as to say ‘none,’ but my assessment is that they are minor. And very treatable in a counseling environment.”
Tom said, “Take us through the interview and tell us your assessment.”
Stephanie nodded. “First of all, the fact that Stella was able to bond with me, an adult stranger she’d never met, and open up and answer my questions, is a good sign that she’s not going to transfer her fear of one bad adult, to all new adults introduced into her life. That’s a very encouraging sign. Next, I took Stella chronologically through the course of events. The fact that she could verbalize her original feelings of friendship for this man, that she liked him and thought he was nice, means that she can distinguish between good and bad. His bad actions didn’t completely erase her fond memories she originally had for him.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Tom asked, sounding skeptical. “I’d rather have her hate the maniac for the rest of her life, than risk having her befriend him again.”
“But Tom, he’s been arrested,” Marianne said. “She’s not going to have to encounter him again.”
“You don’t know that. Our family has a connection to him. What if he’s released? Found not guilty? Whatever. It’s not like he’s a random stra
nger.”
There he went again with the accusation that Jeremy was somehow responsible for this crime. He wasn’t. Not at all. Her brother had enough people discriminating against him because of his past. She’d be darned if she became one of them. Or allowed her husband to be one.
“I don’t want to teach her to hate others. She’s our sweet, loving girl. I’d rather not change that.” She glanced over at Stephanie. “If at all possible.”
Stephanie nodded. “Stella needs to distinguish between knowing the danger of this particular man, and of getting into dangerous situations like she did with this man, and avoiding those things. But if she can maintain her joy of life and enjoyment of adults and people in general, that will allow the healthiest recovery.”
Marianne glanced over at Tom. He had clamped his mouth shut, but he wasn’t through, she could tell.
“Go on, Stephanie, please,” he said.
“My only other assessment is that Stella told the entire story of her abduction and being lost in the woods, and she never once broke down, cried or showed agitation.”
“That’s great,” Marianne breathed with relief.
“Actually, this kind of emotional detachment may be the sign of a problem.”
A problem? That she’s happy? Marianne was sure her face reflected her confusion so Stephanie went on. “Feelings are okay. They are neither good nor bad, they just are. If Stella cries, that’s understandable given what she went through. In fact, I’d like you both to be on the lookout for emotional outbursts. If you see her crying, please try the reflection technique. Say something back like, ‘You were separated from us and you felt scared.’ Reflection isn’t about judging or trying to solve a problem. It’s just understanding what emotion she’s feeling, you see what I mean?”
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 50
