The Girl Before (17 page)

“How can you even think that?” I stop and turn to face him, taking his other hand. “I love
you
, Glen, and I have since we danced together that first time. I can't imagine a life without you. And I wouldn't want to.”

Glen's muscles relax. I hadn't even realized he was tense. It dawns on me that something very important has just happened. I never knew that Glen harbored any questions about my desire to be with him. He is always so confident, so secure in who he is. It gives me a slight thrill to know that I can bring that vulnerability out of him. I feel guilty for thinking that way, but can't help the small smile that comes to my lips.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks, tilting my chin up and searching my eyes.

“Just remembering our first dance,” I say, hoping my lie is not obvious.

He studies me for a moment, then releases me and steps back. “Well then, m'lady, may I have this dance?” He bows, hand held out toward me.

I smile and curtsy. “Of course, kind sir,” I say, taking his hand.

He sweeps me into his arms and we make slow circles in the moonlight. I release a happy sigh and rest my head on his broad chest. The steady beat of his heart relaxes me, and he hums a quiet tune just for the two of us. It is the most romantic moment of my life.

The moment is spoiled when the shrill sound of his beeper slices through the peaceful evening air. His chest vibrates as he grumbles his displeasure, but he gently sets me away from him and digs in his pocket for the device.

“It's Joel,” he says, brow furrowed. “911.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath I know is meant to calm him. When he opens his eyes, the playfulness of a few minutes ago is gone. “I have to call him.”

In my most fanciful daydreams, Glen would take that beeper and chuck it into the lake, refusing to allow anything or anyone to interrupt our romantic evening. But I know my husband, and I knew as soon as the beeper sounded that our evening was over.

“Of course,” I say, and take his offered hand, following him back up the path and into the lodge.

Glen asks to use the phone in the lobby to call Joel at the place they are staying, dialing the number and moving us as far as the cord will allow for privacy.

“What?” he barks.

I cannot understand the tinny words coming through the earpiece, so I lean into Glen's chest, appreciating the deep rumble of his voice. Almost immediately after Joel starts talking, Glen tenses up.

“When?” A pause. “Did he say why?” Another pause. “Did you get the girls?” A slight relaxing of his muscles. “Okay. Fine. I'll bring Clara back to our room and then—” His body goes rigid in response to whatever Joel has said. “What the f—”

I lean back and look up at him. His neck has gone a dangerous shade of red, a sure sign that he is angry.

“I want you with me on this, Joel,” Glen says into the phone, his arm tightening around me. “Get Pete to get the girls and get on the road. We'll leave tonight. I don't like this.” He tells Joel to pick us up out front, and we find a couch in the lobby to sit on while we wait.

“What's going on, Glen?” I ask. I usually don't engage with him when he is this angry, but my curiosity has gotten the better of me.

“Harrison wants to see us.”

“Us?”

“Yes. Both of us.”

“Why me?” I know now why Glen is upset. He doesn't like anyone taking any sort of interest in me. He is very possessive.

He groans. “I don't know.” He turns to me and takes my hands.
“Clara, whatever happens, you don't leave my side, got it?
Do not leave my side.
”

I shrink back from the intensity in his voice, but I nod.

“Promise me, Clara. Say it.”

“I promise.” My voice is small but sure. They will have to drag me away from Glen.

I am the first one to arrive to the new group Dr. Mulligan has signed me up for. Connor got me very early and has taken his spot in the hallway. He did not want to sit in. He was worried the others would not open up as much if he were there, but I know he is more worried about me not opening up if he's there. He doesn't need to worry. I don't plan on speaking up at all. I am only doing this to appease Dr. Mulligan.

I shift in the metal folding chair, one of the ten or so set up in a circle in the center of this room. There is drab green carpeting stretching to the walls, but it is thin and worn almost to the backing in many places. The air-conditioning is set too cool in here, and I shiver through the tissue-like fabric of my shirt. I cross my arms over my stomach as more girls file in. Some whisper to one another, their words too soft for me to understand, while others sit as silently as me, staring at various spots in the room, avoiding eye contact.

Since everyone is ignoring me, I take the opportunity to study them. Many of the girls appear to be around my age, some a little older, a couple much younger. Since marrying Glen, I have not spent much time with girls so close to my age. The brief interactions I had with women from Glen's businesses were uncomfortable, the women full of disdain for me, and I for them. They were jealous of my
position with Glen. The last friend I had was Macy. I push her face out of my head.

A woman with bushy brown hair stumbles into the room, loaded down with a stack of papers. One of the girls jumps up to help her, while the rest of us watch.

“Thank you, Tori,” the woman says, handing half the stack to her. “Just set those by my chair, please.”

The girl, Tori, does as the woman asks. Tori does not look as tired as some of the others, and her eyes have a glow to them that is unfamiliar. She takes her seat as the other woman makes her way into the circle.

The woman sets her papers down, smooths her hair and clothes, and sits, smiling at the expectant faces around her. All conversations have ceased. She lets her gaze rest on each face, and when she gets to me, I feel the full force of her eyes. It is as if I am the only one there, and it reminds me of the feeling I get when I go to visit Dr. Mulligan. The woman's smile widens.

“Dr. Mulligan told me she was hoping to send an addition to our group,” she said. “My name is Heather. You must be Clara.”

I nod. I am not playing a game this time, refusing to talk. My mouth has gone so dry that I cannot fathom forcing words up my throat and past my lips.

Heather smiles at me, and I believe the kindness in her voice when she says, “I'm so glad that you're here, Clara.” She instructs the rest of the girls to introduce themselves, which they do, some more grudgingly than others. I do not commit the names to memory. I don't know if I will be back or not. The only one I remember is Tori.

“Clara, do you want to tell us anything about yourself before we get started?” My opinion of Heather sours. I draw my knees to my chest and shake my head. Instead of pushing me to talk, as I expect, she simply nods. “No pressure here, Clara. If you just want to listen,
that's fine. We're just glad you're here.” She turns to the girl in the chair next to her, a girl with blond hair and wide, haunted green eyes. “Then Mallory, I believe you were ready to talk today.”

Mallory takes a deep breath and looks around the circle. Everyone has leaned in. I am impressed at the concentration on their faces. Even those who seem surly are focused on Mallory, as if what she has to say is the most important thing in the world. Dr. Mulligan did not tell me much about this group, and I wish she had filled me in on how to behave. I lower my feet to the floor and turn toward Mallory. Her eyes shift toward my movements, and our gazes meet as she begins speaking.

“I was a sophomore in college.” Mallory's voice is hesitant at first. She continues watching me, and I feel an urge to protect her, comfort her in the same way I do my daughters. I give her an encouraging smile and a nod as she continues.

“I studied a lot. I had a scholarship I needed to keep. My friends would make fun of me for not going out with them every weekend, but I preferred to hang out at coffee shops around the city.” Mallory smiles. “I would pick a different one each Friday and spend hours studying my books and the people.

“One Friday, I was checking out another new coffee place. It was in a nice area of the city. I was tired and had just finished midterms, and I was also recovering from a fight with my roommate because I didn't want to go out dancing.” Mallory shakes her head. “What a stupid thing, right? But I was feeling rebellious. So when Eric approached me, I invited him to sit down instead of sending him away like I usually did with guys.

“Eric was older, and seemed so worldly. He bought me coffee, and we talked until the shop closed at two in the morning. I was worried about catching the last bus, and he offered me a ride home.”

Mallory pauses, and I notice my heart is racing. I have been
watching closely as she shares. Her eyes are dull and her face is losing color. She is completely caught up in the story. So am I.

“It was stupid. But I agreed. He said he didn't live far from campus and invited me to hang out with him and his roommates for a while. My friends had been texting all night, so I sent a quick text telling them not to wait up.” A tear escapes from the corner of Mallory's eye, but she ignores it. Her posture stiffens, and I see her walls go up as she relates the next part of the story.

“We drove in the opposite direction of campus. I laughed and asked if he'd had too much coffee, but he didn't answer me. I got nervous, but he wouldn't turn around. We went to one of the rougher parts of town and he pulled up behind another car. He told me to get out. I didn't. I begged him to take me home. Another man got out of the car in front of us and came to my door. Eric pushed me out the door. I tried to run, but the other man grabbed me and threw me on the ground. I hit my head and blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the trunk of a car. The music was blaring. I can still smell the smoke and rot. They had taken my shoes, and my hands and ankles were duct-taped together.” Mallory closes her eyes.

I do not want to hear any more. I do not know what Dr. Mulligan was thinking sending me here. What do I have in common with Mallory, who was taken so brutally from her life? I want nothing to do with this story. I tense, ready to bolt, when Mallory's eyes open and find mine again, and I am rooted to my chair. I cannot leave when she is watching me, when she looks at me with such vulnerability. It's as if she is taking strength from me. I look at her and I see my daughters. I relax back into my chair, wiping the panicked look off my face. I mimic Dr. Mulligan, who is a master at looking neutral yet supportive at all times.

Mallory takes a deep breath. “I pounded on the trunk, but no one responded. I doubt they could hear me. There was no lever to pull to
escape the trunk. I had read somewhere that if you were in a trunk, you should kick out one of the taillights and wave your arm. I kicked and kicked, but I couldn't dislodge the lights. It wasn't easy since I was taped up, and I think I broke a toe or two. I didn't care. I was in a panic.

“The car stopped, and when the trunk opened I was surprised that it was daylight. I don't know how long I was passed out. The man who had taken me was even more terrifying in the light. Scars on his face . . . and he was huge. He threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. We were in the middle of nowhere, by a long tin building. I didn't see much. Inside, there were wide doors that opened like garage doors. It turned out they were storage sheds. There were many more men inside, and one of them opened one of the sheds. The man carrying me threw me onto a dirty mattress and left.”

Heather leans over and clasps Mallory's hand. “Are you doing okay, Mallory?” she asks. “You can take a break if you need to.”

Mallory nods. “I-I think I could use some water.”

I need water, too. And space. Everyone moves back, some retreating into their private worlds, others lapsing back into conversation. I jerk to my feet. No one pays attention. Heather is murmuring softly to Mallory. Tori has gone to get Mallory some water. I step toward the door. No one stops me as I slip out.

In the hallway, I lean against the wall and slide to the floor. I hit my head against the hard surface in rhythm to the thoughts swirling through my head. I place my hand on my stomach, almost imagining I feel flutters, though I know it is too soon for that. As always, Nut calms me. No matter what is going on out here, I know he is safe and sound, and will never be away from me. He is mine.

“How's it going?”

I start. I forgot that Connor was waiting for me in the hallway. I don't know how I missed him when I came out here. I look over at him, and his forehead is wrinkled in concern.

“Why am I here?” I ask, ignoring his question. “This has nothing to do with me.”

“You've hardly been in there, Clara,” Connor says, his tone gentle. “Give these girls a chance.”

“A chance for what? To tell sad stories? To try to get me to tell my sad story? What is it with everyone wanting to know my business? It's my business! My life!” I slap the floor for emphasis.

Connor doesn't react. He watches me for a few minutes. “You promised Dr. Mulligan you would try.”

“I am trying.”

“No, you're not. You're ready to quit.”

He's not wrong. I want to go back to my tiny gray room, or to Dr. Mulligan's office, or even back to the dreaded questioning room. Anywhere but back into the room to hear the rest of Mallory's story.

“All you have to do is listen,” Connor says. “Just listen, Clara.” It is not a command. It's a request. I sigh and nod as Heather sticks her head out into the hall.

“There you are, Clara,” she says, smiling. “Are you coming back in?” Another question, and an opportunity to refuse. Instead, I scramble to my feet.

“Yes.” I follow her back inside, glancing back once to catch Connor with a pensive look on his face, which changes to an encouraging smile when he sees me watching. The door shuts behind me before I can acknowledge him again.