“And John-Paul is locked up? They have him?” I wondered if she noticed how shaky my voice was.
“Whoever that man is who took you, he’s not getting out of prison for a very, very long time. Kidnapping is a Class A felony in both Iowa and Missouri, and both states plan to prosecute. The FBI is also getting involved, from what it sounds like, and they are investigating his background.”
I nodded at the news and somehow managed to start crying again. I’d have thought my dehydration diagnosis would have prevented it.
“Are you going to tell me why somebody would kidnap you?” She asked the question gently, probably expecting me not to tell her.
After swearing her to secrecy, I told her the entire messy, sordid story. She had a pitying, shocked look on her face, but it felt good to share it with her. As it did every time I told the story, my soul got lighter. As if I was giving away part of the burden to my friend. I expected her pity, but instead she said, “I am so proud of you. You are such a strong woman. I am honored to call you my friend.”
As my eyes teared up, Baby Marco started to actually cry. “It’s feeding time,” she said. “I’m going home in the morning, but we’ll come back and visit you.”
“Don’t,” I told her. “I’ll be home soon. I’ll come see you then.”
“Thank you for trusting me. I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through, but know that I am always here for you.” She put one hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, and then she told me to get better before going back to her own room.
It wasn’t Rafe’s fault. It was my fault. He had told me to stay home, but after our vacation in Monterra, John-Paul had seemed so far away. So meaningless and unimportant. I’d never thought he would show up and do what he did. I should have stayed at the farmhouse. I shouldn’t have put myself or Laddie in danger.
Maybe he left because I’d been so stupid.
I wished I could call him. But I didn’t have a phone.
Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t have even known what to say to him.
I stayed in the hospital for another three days. The longer I stayed in the bed, the madder I got.
Mad about John-Paul hurting me and kidnapping me, mad about what he had done to Laddie, mad about the nightmares that plagued my sleep.
But I was mostly mad at Rafe for abandoning me. How could he say he loved me and then fly off like nothing had ever happened between us? You didn’t treat someone you loved that way. You stayed by their side when they were in the hospital. You gave them support and helped them.
My nose started to heal, the pain in my head went away, my wounds scabbed over, and my bruises started to fade.
The pain that Rafe had shoved into my heart did not go away. It only multiplied.
When I finally checked out and discovered that Rafe had paid for all of my hospital bills, I wasn’t grateful. It just made me angrier.
I went home and continued to heal. Life returned to normal, except now I felt like I was walking around with a sucking chest wound, unable to breathe. I went back to school, ignoring the stares and whispers on campus. Apparently my kidnapping had been all over the news, and my red hair and height made me instantly recognizable. When I worked my shifts at the diner, the townspeople were again handling me with kid gloves, like I might break if somebody said the wrong thing.
Even Max had stopped telling me jokes.
Whitney was the only person willing to speak honestly to me. When I went to visit her and the baby, she said, “You’re totally pining for him.”
“I am not,” I said dismissively.
“You are. Pining like a whole forest of pine trees.”
I held the baby against me, smelling the delicious baby smell on the back of his neck. “I’m not pining. He’s the one who left me. I’m not pining.” I didn’t know which one of us I was trying to convince more.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, not believing me.
“Maybe I’m pining a little,” I admitted a minute later. “I don’t want to see him. Or talk to him. But I set up a Google alert with his name. Does that make me weird?”
“Oh, sweetie. It’s on the list.” She set aside her laundry to sit next to me. “You should call him.”
That wasn’t going to happen.
To get through it, I told myself I didn’t need Rafe. He obviously didn’t need or want me. He could walk away without a second glance. He never called. He didn’t email or text me. There were so many times I considered reaching out myself, but pride got in the way.
When I spoke to Pastor Dave about it, he talked about something called transference—that I might have taken all my negative and hostile feelings about John-Paul, a scary person who hurt me and whom I didn’t want to think about, and transferred them to Rafe, a safe person whom I loved and did want to think about. That it was easier and safer for me to be mad at Rafe than John-Paul. I told him I had plenty of anger for them both.