And Then She Was Gone

by Noonan, Rosalind

  Dan grinned as Lauren lifted the halter and slipped it onto the horse. She had to rise onto her toes to loop the band around Flicker’s neck, but she managed.

  “Yes!” Dan cheered, and Sierra let out a whoop as they all applauded.

  “Great job, everyone,” Wynonna said, crossing the corral. “Lauren, I noticed that you let your sister take the easiest horse, but did you know you chose the most difficult one? Flicker here is our prima donna. She’s the dominant horse of the group—the bossy one.”

  Lauren skated her orange cast over the dirt, sending a spray of golden dust into the breeze. “I think I knew that. I just figured that she liked me, so she wouldn’t run away.”

  “Just because she gave you a hard time doesn’t reflect how she feels for you. Flicker likes to play. She likes to be fussed over, just as you said.” Wynonna rubbed the horse’s shoulder. “Don’t you girl? You’re a tough one to snag, but you’re worth it.”

  “Like some challenges in life?” Rachel suggested.

  “That’s right.” Wynonna tipped her hat back. “I also noticed that you didn’t ask for help, Lauren. You’re used to being on your own, independent. But you have a family now, and they want to help. Did you see how they tried to help? Chasing the horse for you and giving you suggestions.”

  “It helped,” Lauren said, “but I wanted to do it myself.”

  “That’s what you’re used to. But it’s a good adjustment to make—letting other people in. Letting your family help you with problems.”

  Dan’s throat knotted up as he watched emotions chase over Lauren’s face like racing clouds. God love her, she was so earnest, so eager to please, so determined to do the right thing. She’d been through some bad times, but she was coming through. Sure as they were all standing here, Lauren was going to pull through this, a stronger and wiser person.

  He swallowed hard, proud of his daughter. Stubborn as ever, she was a survivor.

  Chapter 32

  From Lauren’s Journal

  My name is Lauren O’Neil and I am trying to find out who I am after six years of living someone else’s life.

  I am seventeen years old and I don’t have an ATM card or cell phone. I am learning how to use e-mail on a computer, but even my own sister says I’m a dinosaur. That means I’m extinct; a creature whose time has come and gone. At first I cried about this, thinking that I was a big, awkward brontosaurus who would never fit in this world. But then Wynonna pointed out that I can adapt. I have already gotten used to some things about this new life. Wynonna says that it’s okay to be a techno-dinosaur.

  I am seventeen and I don’t have any friends. There is one girl, Nora, who has come by the lake house, but only because I think her mother made her. She’s a nice girl, and I remember when we used to hang out together, making cupcakes or having sleepovers when we were in grade school. But now, when she looks at me, I think she sees a victim. For her I’m a sad girl who a terrible man stole away and abused for six years. Her eyes always flick away from me fast. I call it the nervous look.

  I have never been to high school, and it scares me to think about being around hundreds of kids who might make fun of me or give me the nervous look.

  I have never driven a car. I have never kissed a boy or had a boyfriend. I have never fallen in love or had a crush, unless you count Jesse from Full House. Proms, football games, concerts, vacations . . . these are some of the things I missed. My mom wants me to try school in September so that I can experience some great moments. The social building blocks of life, she calls them. But to me, that feels like I would be going backward, and that is one important thing I know in my heart. You have to let the past sit behind you.

  Sometimes there’s an ache when I think about all the things I have missed, and sometimes I get angry and sour about it. My grandma used to call Sierra and me crabby Appletons when we got cranky. That’s how I feel when I think about high school or best friends. I think I am the world’s crabbiest crabby Appleton.

  But my logical mind knows that feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to help. Again, all those things I missed are in the past, and once that candle is blown out, the light is gone.

  So when I feel bad, I try to think of the horses, especially the ones who have had rough lives, like Socks, who was hit by a car, or Yoda, who was abandoned in the desert when he was a baby. Sometimes when I’m brushing Yoda, I think of how sad he must have been, sad and sick from dehydration and that rattlesnake bite. It’s a wonder he didn’t die of a broken heart. But he didn’t. He’s got a light inside him that kept him going. In so many ways, he’s like me, only he’s a lot more patient than I would be when Jazz and Vic bring the feedbags out.

  I really, really want to learn to ride, but Wynonna says that ninety percent of riding is your bond with a horse, so we need to work on the ground first. Again, I’m not as patient as Yoda, but does a horse ever want a person to jump on his back? I don’t know.

  Another big thing Yoda and I have in common is that we both need to learn how to play. That sounds funny, right? You might think that everyone loves to play games and laugh. But I guess it’s something you forget how to do when you lose practice, and fun was not something that happened much at the compound. The closest I ever came to playing was watching Mac. The way she would line up cukes from our garden and pretend they were cars waiting to leave a parking lot. When

  I gave her a bath in the slop sink, she would play with clusters of bubbles, giving us both bubble hairdos before she blew at them and narrated the wonderful places they were headed as they floated away. And the stories she would make up about talking buttons and wiggly fingers and magic shells. Mac knew how to have fun. But Yoda and I, we’re going to learn together.

  “Did you write in your journal?” Wynonna asked as Lauren lit the past candle and leaned back onto the built-in bench in the gazebo.

  Lauren unzipped her backpack and removed the blue notebook. “I did. Do you want to read it? You already know everything I said, anyway.”

  Wynonna smiled. “That’s because you try to be honest, and I’m grateful for that. Your therapy will go faster if you keep pushing for the truth.” She gestured toward the flickering red flame. “So we’re going to talk about the past today. Have you found that forgotten memories are coming back to you?”

  She let her eyes stray to the distance, where Mount Hood stood, silver gray and strong. “Memories of Mac. All the good things that are happening to me, all the new clothes and being around the horses. Swimming in the lake and getting to have what I want for dinner. Those things should be happening to her, too.”

  “And you feel guilty about that? That you have a better life now?”

  “I feel so sorry that she never had a good life. She never had her own bed to sleep in. Sometimes Kevin would buy her popcorn or ice cream when we worked at a market or fair, but I know she wasn’t getting the right foods. No visit to the doctor for her shots. Maybe if Kevin had spent some of the money on doctors, Mac wouldn’t have died of that awful cough.”

  “That’s true. He made a string of bad choices that hurt so many people, and you and Mac were at the center of his cruelty. But we can’t change the past. We can’t bring Mac back.”

  “I know. But now, when good things are happening, I think of Mac, and suddenly it’s not so good because she can’t enjoy them, too.”

  “That’s Old Man Guilt for you. He’ll come along and fasten himself on you like a big pair of scissors.”

  That was how it felt, like a sharp clamp on her heart. “How do you get rid of him?”

  “First, you need to know that it’s not your fault. You would have given Mac the world. You did everything for her. You loved her, and it sounds like she adored you. Didn’t she follow you around the compound, like a little shadow?”

  She had.

  “And though Kevin took her around at markets and fairs to show her off,” Wynonna added, “Mac didn’t always like that, did she? She wanted to be with her mother. The person who loved her
and took care of her.”

  Lauren swallowed, but it did nothing to ease the knot in her throat. She would never stop loving Mac. Never. “I know the past is behind me, but I don’t know how to give up thinking about Mac.”

  “You don’t have to. Right now, you’re still mourning the loss of your little girl, and remember how we talked about the stages of grief?”

  “Denial. Anger. Bargaining.” That one always made Lauren think of the Saturday market, where shoppers haggled with the vendors, negotiating for a better price.

  “Depression and acceptance, but not always in that order.”

  Lauren shook her head. “Maybe my life doesn’t fit that mold.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t. Grief is unique. Every person has a different experience.”

  “Well, we can forget about acceptance, because I’m never going to be okay about what happened to Mac.”

  “That’s understandable. For now, do what you need to do to grieve. Be angry with Kevin. Be furious. Sit with the guilt and sadness. But I hope you can get to a point where you don’t feel guilty about the good things that are happening to you. Someday, we want to get you to a point where you have more good days than bad.”

  “But I already have good days,” Lauren admitted, tears blurring her vision of the mountain. “I just feel bad about them.”

  “Old Man Guilt.” Wynonna leaned over and blew out the candle of the past. “I think I hear Yoda calling your name from the barn. It’s time to play.”

  Chapter 33

  Rachel rolled onto her back, propped her knees up and moaned. After a week of regular horseback rides with Wynonna, every muscle in her body ached.

  Including her heart.

  “Can’t sleep?” Dan’s presence beside her was so pure and serene, she envied him the simple peace that was his nature.

  “Everything aches. I’m going to have to ask Wynonna to move these therapy sessions to a couch . . . or a hospital bed. She thinks I’m a better rider than I am.”

  With sweeping breath, he sat up and touched her shoulder. “Roll over.”

  Muscles screamed as she shifted to her belly and gave herself over to the sweet agony of Dan’s massaging hands.

  “Why do you and Wynonna do those sessions on horseback?” he asked.

  “She’s preparing me to do some special therapy with Lauren. It’s called back-riding. Supposedly, it’s a way to connect with her.”

  “Well, if it involves horses, I think Lauren will be quick to make the connection. Watching her with Yoda and Socks, I can’t get over how sweet our girl is. Even after all she’s been through, she’s got a heart of gold.”

  “And I’m ever the shrill bitch.”

  “What? Who said that?”

  “Everyone seems to be miming the message without saying the words. Am I the problem?” she asked as Dan pressed into the tense muscles over her shoulder blades.

  “Come again?”

  “Lauren is leery of my take-charge, controlling nature. Wynonna told me that, in the gentlest of terms. And Sierra says that her sister would come home if I wasn’t always, and I quote, ‘the boss of everything.’ ”

  “That sounds like Sierra. She doesn’t hold back, does she?”

  “Our daughters are honest to a fault.”

  “What does Wynonna say?”

  “She says that I’m the scapegoat in Lauren’s mind, and nothing I do will change that. Lauren has to be the one to come around. It’s going to take some external factor—whether it’s therapy or some event—for Lauren to see me in a new light.”

  “So what are you supposed to do?”

  “Back off. Lay low.”

  “Not your forte.”

  “Nope.”

  “Mmm. I like Wynonna, but that doesn’t explain why Sierra is so down on you. Isn’t this the age when kids start to question everything their parents do? They hate us for a while, but it will all pass. Give it a few years and they’ll be swearing that you’re the best mother in the world.” He ran his fingers down her spine, and then pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. The sweetness of the gesture, coupled with her worry, made her tear up.

  “I don’t want to wait a few years.” She knew she sounded pathetic, but this was Dan. No filters with him. “I want them to love me now.”

  He slid down beside her and she turned toward him. The faint glow from the clock allowed just enough light so that she could see the beautiful planes of his face. “Sorry, babe. Can’t make those girls do anything right now. But I love you.” He pushed the collar of her sleep shirt down and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. “And with a little persuasion, I can show you just how much.”

  The next morning, Rachel was popping ibuprofen in the entryway at Spirit Ranch when Lauren and Paula arrived.

  “I think she’s got a little crush on Jazz,” Paula said under her breath as Lauren followed the therapist’s son into the kitchen for a glass of juice. “And why not? He’s sweet, adorable, and good with horses. Everything a seventeen-year-old girl should be dreaming of.”

  Rachel watched as her daughter crossed the wooden floor, barely a limp despite her orange walking cast. She and Jazz disappeared under the barrel wood ceiling leading to the kitchen in the Eaglesons’ home. “He has a girlfriend, doesn’t he?”

  “So I’ve heard. A girl at college, but nothing is permanent when you’re nineteen.”

  Rachel’s aching muscles tensed. Her daughter was into a nineteen-year-old? The bond between Lauren and Jasper Eagleson had been plain as day, but Rachel had assumed it was the love of horses that they shared. “She’s never mentioned him to me. Does she talk about him?”

  “No, but I’ve noticed how she lights up when he’s around. The other day, when Wynonna asked her if she wanted to earn some money helping out in the stables, Lauren asked if she’d be working with Jazz. How’s that for straightforward?”

  “Lauren doesn’t mince words.” Rachel ran her palms over the sides of her jeans. “But I’m not sure I’m ready for teen romance. She’s so vulnerable right now.”

  “You can’t stop it, mama bear,” Paula advised. “Heartbreak and head-over-heels—it all comes with the territory of love.” She checked her cell phone. “I’d better get going. I told Hank I’d go with him to interview a client.” She lowered her voice. “Kevin Hawkins’s brother. Bound to be interesting.”

  “I’ll call you later to find out how it went,” Rachel said.

  Down in the barn, Yoda was saddled up and ready for Rachel’s first ride with Lauren. Yesterday Wynonna had explained about a technique called the Horse Boy Method, a type of therapy designed for children with autism.

  “When you mentioned you’d considered having Lauren tested for being on the spectrum, I thought of this. It’s really pretty simple, and we can try it because you’re an experienced rider, and because both you and Lauren are petite. The two of you will need to sit in one saddle.”

  “I think we can manage that. I’ll hold my breath. But the horse will be moving, right? This is Lauren’s chance to learn horseback riding?” It had been one of Lauren’s new goals before everything had been pushed back in the interest of finding Mac.

  “She’ll finally get to ride her buddy Yoda. It’s called back-riding. You’ll ride with Lauren in the saddle in front of you.”

  “And that will make her feel safe?” Rachel had asked.

  “There’s a long list of benefits. There’s a theory that the rocking motion created by the rider helps produce feel-good hormones like oxytocin. With you sitting behind her it’s nonconfrontational—no need for eye contact. But at the same time you can communicate by talking right in her ear, managing the experience. And the pressure of having two arms holding the rider close gives many kids on the spectrum a feeling of security. It’s one of those things that is simple and complex at the same time.”

  The notion of riding with Lauren in her arms, nearly in her lap, had stirred memories and emotions that had kept Rachel up until late last night. And when she had fallen a
sleep, images had appeared in her dreams like photos in a scrapbook. Baby Lauren, with wrinkled pink lips and a whisper of downy hair on her little bald scalp. Lauren pulling up on the coffee table. Lauren holding on to Dan’s extended arm like a baby monkey swinging from a tree. The white dresses of baptism and first communion. The Christmas photos taken in front of the tree.

  Sorting through those memories in her mind, she had tried to determine the last time she and Lauren had snuggled together, physically close. Granted, before Lauren had been kidnapped she had been shedding the bonds of physical affection for the superficial aloofness of adolescence, but that was no excuse for the fact that she could not remember the last time they’d shared a hug.

  Now Wynonna was coaching Lauren on the procedure. “We’ll let you both mount from this block, since it’s hard to swing into the saddle with someone else sitting there.” Although she went on to explain that this was a very specific form of therapy, which she thought Lauren would enjoy, Rachel could see that her daughter’s mind was already in tune with the thrill of riding her favorite horse out in the beautiful green fields and hills.

  Lauren went first, sliding the leg with the orange cast over the horse as if it were light as a feather.

  As she plopped onto the saddle behind Lauren, Rachel let out a laugh. It was a tight fit. “We’re like two sardines in a can.”

  Lauren stiffened. “It’s weird. Am I squishing you?”

  Although Lauren was stiff as a cement block in front of her, Rachel hoped the ride would loosen her up. “I’m fine, but you’ll probably be more comfortable if you relax.”

  That made Lauren’s body even more rigid. “I’m just holding on.”

  “I’ll have my arms around you, like a seat belt.”

  When Lauren shrugged her shoulders and settled back with a sigh, Rachel could imagine the determined frown on her daughter’s face. Years in captivity had taught her stoicism.

  “You guys look good up there.” Wynonna handed Rachel the reins and lightly patted Lauren’s bad leg. “You still up for this, Lauren?”