Kristin Hannah's Family Matters 4-Book Bundle: Angel Falls, Between Sisters, The Things We Do for Love, Magic Hour (132 page)

Unfortunately, the past year had stolen more than her reputation. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her confidence. She needed to hear that she was on the right path.

There it was. The true reason she was here. He was the only colleague she had in Rain Valley, and he’d examined Alice.

She hated the glimpse into her own weakness, but she was not one to deny the obvious.

Up ahead, Max turned off the main road. She followed him onto the driveway that had recently been graveled. The single-lane roadway took a hairpin turn to the left and ended abruptly in a tree-ringed meadow.

Max drove into the garage and disappeared.

Julia parked alongside it. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her briefcase and got out of the car.

The beauty of the place stunned her. She was in the middle of a huge grassy field, ringed on three sides by enormous evergreens. On the fourth border lay Spirit Lake. Mist rose from the lake like steam from a boiling pot, giving everything a surreal, fairy-tale look. Close by, an owl hooted.

She jumped at the sound.

“The infamous spotted owl,” Max said, coming up beside her.

She eased sideways. “The enemy of every logger.”

“And the champion of every tree hugger. Come on.”

He led her past the garage and toward the house. As she got closer, she saw the craftsman-style beauty of the place. Plank cedar siding, handcrafted eaves, a big wraparound porch. Even the chairs seemed to have been handmade of clean, pure fir. It was the kind of house you didn’t see in Rain Valley. Expensive and hand-tooled, yet plain. It was an Aspen or Jackson Hole kind of place.

He opened the front door and let her enter first. The first thing she noticed was the spicy aroma of bayberry; somewhere, he had a scented candle burning. Sexy music floated through the speakers. No doubt he kept the place in constant readiness for female guests.

Julia tightened her hold on the briefcase and walked into the house.

A gorgeous river-rock fireplace dominated the left wall. Windows ran the length of the house, looking out from the porch to the lake beyond. Two pairs of French doors led outside. The kitchen was small but perfectly constructed; every cabinet gleamed in the soft light of an overhead fixture. The dining room was big, and bracketed on two sides by windows that overlooked the lake. A huge trestle table took up most of the space. Oddly, there was only a single chair next to it. In the living room there was an oxblood leather sofa—no chairs—and a big-screen plasma TV. A thick alpaca wool rug covered the wide-planked wood floor in front of the fireplace.

There was also a jumble of ropes and pullies by the back door. They lay in a tangled heap beside an ice pick and a backpack.

“Rock climbing gear,” she said. It was too, too clich. “Someone is into danger, I see. A man who needs extreme circumstances to feel alive?”

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, Julia. Drink?” He turned away from her and went into the kitchen area. Opening the refrigerator door, he said, “I have whatever you want.”

“How about a glass of white wine?”

He returned a moment later carrying two glasses. White wine for her, scotch on the rocks for himself.

She took the one he offered and sat down at the very end of the sofa, close to the arm. “Thanks.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to look so terrified, Julia. I’m not going to attack you.”

For a moment she was caught by the low, soft tone of his voice and the blue of his eyes. It was a little spark, barely anything, but it made her angry. She needed to get back on solid ground. “Let me guess again, Dr. Cerrasin. If I went out to the garage, I’d find a Porsche or a Corvette.”

“Nope. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Upstairs I’d find a king-sized bed with expensive silk sheets, maybe a faux fur coverlet, and a nightstand drawer full of condoms that are ribbed for her pleasure.”

A frown pulled at his forehead. She got the distinct feeling that he was toying with her. “Her pleasure is always important to me.”

“I’m sure it is. As long as her pleasure doesn’t require any real emotion on your part, or—God forbid—a commitment. Believe me, Max, I’ve known men like you before. As appealing as the Peter Pan syndrome is to some women, it’s lost its charm for me.”

“Who was he?”

“Who?”

“The man who hurt you so badly.”

Julia was surprised by the perceptiveness of the question. Even more surprising was how it made her feel. Almost as if he knew her.

But he didn’t. He was just fishing, casting the kind of line that only men like him could handle. His gift was the appearance of sincerity, of depth. For some bizarre reason, when she looked at him now, she saw a kind of loneliness in his gaze, an understanding that made her want to answer him.

And then she would be caught.

“May we please keep ourselves on track?”

“Ah. Business. Tell me about the girl.” He went to the fireplace and built a fire, then returned to the sofa and sat down.

“I’m calling her Alice for now. From
Alice in Wonderland.
She responded to the story.”

“Seems like a good choice.”

He waited for more.

Suddenly she wished she weren’t here. He might be a player and a flirt, but he was also a colleague, and as such, he could ruin her with a word.

“Julia?”

She started slowly. “When you first examined her, did you see any evidence of what her diet had been?”

“You mean beyond the dehydration and malnutrition?”

“Yes.”

“Facts, no. Ideas; I have a few. I’d say some meat and fish and fruit. I would guess she ate no dairy and no grains at all.”

Julia looked at him. “In other words, the kind of diet that would come from living off the land for a long time.”

“Maybe. How long do you think she was out there?”

There it was. The question whose answer could both make and break her.

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” she said after too long a silence.

“I thought you shrinks didn’t use that word.”

“Don’t tell.”

“You’re safe with me.”

She laughed at that. “Hardly.”

“Start talking, Julia,” he said, sipping his drink. The ice rattled in his glass.

“Okay.” She started with the easy stuff. “I’m sure she’s not deaf, and I strongly question the idea of autistic. Strangely enough, I think she might be a completely normal child reacting to an impossibly foreign and hostile environment. I believe she understands some language, although I don’t yet know if she knows how to speak and is choosing not to or if she’s never been taught. Either way, she hasn’t hit puberty, so—theoretically, at least—she’s not too old to learn.”

“And?” He took another drink.

She took a drink, too. Hers was more of a gulp. Her sense of vulnerability was so strong now she felt her cheeks warm. There was nothing to do now except dive in or walk away. “Have you ever read any of the accounts of wild children?”

“You mean like that French kid? The one Truffaut made the movie about?”

“Yes.”

“Come on—”

“Hear me out, Max. Please.”

He leaned back into the cushions, crossed his arms and studied her. “Tell me.”

She started pulling stuff out of her briefcase. Papers, books, notes. She laid them all out on the cushion between them. As Max examined each article, she outlined her thoughts. She told him about the clear signs of wildness—the apparent lack of sense of self, the hiding mechanism, the eating habits, the howling. Then she offered the oddities—the humming, birdsong mimicry, the insta–toilet training. When she’d presented all of it, she sat back, waiting for his comment.

“So you’re saying she was out there, in the woods, for most of her life.”

“Yes.”

“And the wolf they found with her … that was what, her brother?”

She reached for her papers. “Forget it. I should have known—”

Laughing, he grabbed her hand. “Slow down. I’m not making fun of you, but you have to admit that your theory is out there.”

“But think about it. Plug our evidence into the known fact patterns.”

“It’s all anecdotal, Julia. Kids raised by wolves and bears …”

“Maybe she was held hostage for a while and then let go to survive on her own. She’s definitely been around people at some point.”

“Then why can’t she speak?”

“I think she’s electively mute. In other words, she
can
speak. She’s choosing not to.”

“If that’s true, even partially, it’ll take a hell of a doctor to bring her back to this world.”

Julia heard the question in his voice. She wasn’t surprised. The whole world thought she was incompetent now; why should he be any different? What did surprise her was how much it hurt. “I am a good doctor. At least, I used to be.” She reached for her papers, started putting them in her briefcase.

He leaned closer, touched her wrist. “I believe in you, you know. If that matters.”

She looked at him, even though she knew instantly that it was a mistake. He was so close now that she could see a jagged scar along his hairline and another at the base of his throat. Firelight softened his face; she saw tiny flames reflected in the blue sea of his eyes. “Thanks. It does.”

Later, when she was back in her car and driving home alone, she thought back on it, wondered why she’d revealed so much to him.

The only answer came buried in her own lack of confidence.

I believe in you.

The irony was that there, in that room with the soft music playing and the stairs that undoubtedly led to a huge bed, his words were what had seduced her.

TWELVE

Ellie was sipping her now warm beer and poring over stacks of police reports when she heard Julia come home. Ellie looked up. “Hey.”

Julia closed the door behind her. “Hey.” Tossing her briefcase on the kitchen table, she headed for the refrigerator and got herself a beer. “Where are Jake and Elwood?”

“See? You miss it when they don’t go for your crotch. They’re camped outside your bedroom. They almost never move from there anymore. I think it’s the girl. They’re crazy for her.” She smiled. “So you went to see Max.”

Julia sat down on the sofa beside Ellie. “I’m hardly surprised to hear his name in the same sentence as the words ‘go straight for your crotch.’ So, what’s the deal with him?”

“That’s a question every single woman in town has asked.”

“I’ll bet he’s slept with every one of them.”

“Not really.”

Julia frowned. “But he acts like—”

“I know. He flirts like crazy but that’s as far as it usually goes. Don’t get me wrong—he’s slept with plenty of women in town, but he’s never really
been
with any of them. Not for long, anyway.”

“What about you?”

Ellie laughed. “When he first moved here, I was all over him. It’s my way—as you know. No subtlety here … and no waiting around. If a good-looking man comes to town, I pounce.” She finished her beer and set the bottle down. “We had a blast. Tequila straight shots, dancing at The Pour House, necking by the bathrooms … by the time I got him home, we were pretty well toasted. The sex was … to be honest, I don’t remember it. What I do remember was telling him how easy it would be to fall in love.”

“On the first date?”

“You know me. I always fall in love, and men usually like it. But not Max. He pretty much killed himself in his hurry to leave. After that he treated me like I had a communicable disease.” Ellie glanced sideways, expecting to see censure in the green eyes that were so like her own. Julia couldn’t know about throwing yourself at the wrong guy, about how it felt to be so desperate for love that you’d reach for anyone who smiled at you. But what she saw in her sister’s eyes surprised her. Julia looked … fragile suddenly, as if the talk of love had upset her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

But Ellie could see the lie on her sister’s face, and for the first time, she understood. Her sister had been broken by love, too. Maybe not as often as she had—or as publicly—but Julia had been hurt. “What happened with him … with Philip? You guys were together for a long time. I thought you’d get married.”

“I thought so, too. I was so in love with him I ignored the signs. I found out too late that he’d been screwing around for most of the last year we were together. Now he’s married to a dental hygienist and living in Pasadena. Last I heard he was screwing around on her, too. Some psychiatrist, huh? I miss the problems in my own relationship.”

“He sounds like a real asshole.”

“It would be easier if that were true.”

“I’m sorry.” For the first time, Ellie felt as if she understood her sister. Julia might be brilliant, but when it came to love, that was no protection. Every heart could be broken. “You better stay away from Max, you know.”

Julia sighed. “Believe me, I know. A guy like that …”

“Yeah. He could hurt a woman like you.”

“Like us,” Julia said softly.

So she felt it, too, this new connection. “Yeah,” Ellie agreed. “Like us.”

The next morning, Ellie was parked in front of the Ancient Grounds coffee stand when her radio beeped. Static crackled through the old black speakers, followed by Cal’s voice.

“Chief? You there? Out.”

“I’m here, Cal. What’s up?”

“Get down here, Ellie. Out.”

“Sally’s making my mocha. I’ll be—”

“Now, Ellie. Out.”

Ellie glanced up at the woman in the coffee stand window. “Sorry, Sally. Emergency.” She put the car in drive and hit the gas. Two blocks later she turned onto Cates Avenue and almost slammed into a news van.

There were dozens parked along—and in the center of—the street. White satellite dishes stood out against the gray sky. Reporters were huddled in clusters along the sidewalk, their black umbrellas open. She hadn’t taken more than three steps when the reporters pounced on her.

“—comment on the report—”

“—no one is telling us where—”

“—the exact location—”

She pushed through the crowd and yanked the station door open. Slipping through, she slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it. “Shit.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Cal said. “They were camped out there at eight o’clock when I got to work. Now they’re waiting for your nine o’clock update.”

“What nine o’clock update?”

“The one I scheduled to get them the hell out of here. I couldn’t answer the phones with them yelling at me.”

Peanut came around the corner holding a plastic mug the size of a gallon of paint. She was back on the grapefruit juice diet. A rolled-up newspaper was tucked under her arm. “You’d better sit down,” she said.

Ellie immediately looked at Cal.

He nodded, mouthed,
I would.

She went to her desk and sat down, then looked at her friends. Whatever they had to say couldn’t be good.

Peanut tossed the newspaper down on the desk. The whole top half was a photograph of the girl. Her eyes were wild and crazy-looking; her hair was a nimbus of black and studded with leaves. She looked stark-raving mad, as well as filthy. Like one of those kids from
Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome.
The byline read: Mort Elzick.

Ellie felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. So this was what he’d meant by “or else” when he’d demanded the interview. “
Shit.
”

“The good news is he didn’t mention Julia,” Cal said. “He wouldn’t dare, without official confirmation.”

Ellie skimmed the article.
Savage girl steps out of the forest and into the modern world, her only companion a wolf. She leaps from branch to branch and howls at the moon.

“They’re starting to think it’s a hoax,” Cal said quietly.

Ellie’s anger turned to fear. If the media decided it was a hoax, they’d pull out of town. Without publicity, the girl’s family might never be found. She reached into her canvas book bag and pulled out the photograph Julia had taken. “Circulate this.”

Peanut took the photo. “Wow. Your sister is a miracle worker.”

“We’re calling her Alice,” Ellie said. “Put that on the record. Maybe a name will make her seem more real.”

Girl comes awake slowly. This place is quiet, peaceful, even though she cannot hear the river’s call or the leaves’ whispering. The sun is hidden from her. Still, the air is lighted and bright.

She is not afraid.

For a moment she cannot believe it. She touches her thoughts, pokes through the darkness of them.

It is true. She is not afraid. She cannot recall ever feeling like this. Usually her first thought is:
hide.
She has spent so long trying to make herself as small as possible.

She can breathe here, too; in this strange, squared world where light comes from a magical touch and the ground is hard and level, she can breathe. It does not hold on to the bad smells of Him.

She likes it here. If Wolf were with her, she would stay in this square forever, marking her territory in the swirling water and sleeping on the place she is told to, where it is soft and smells of flowers.

“Iseeyouareawakelittleone.”

It is the Sun-Haired Her who has spoken. She is at the eating place, with the thin stick in her hand again, the tool that leaves blue markings behind.

Girl gets up and goes into the cleaning place, where the magical pool is now empty. She pulls down her pants and sits on the cold circle. When she is done peeing, she hits the white thing.

In the other room, Her stands up. She is hitting her hands together, making a sound like a hunter’s shot and smiling.

Girl likes that smile. It makes her feel safe.

From the babble of forbidden sounds, Girl hears “Come.”

She moves slowly, hunched over, holding her insides tightly. She knows how dangerous a moment like this can be, especially when her guard is down. She should always stay afraid, but the smile and the air and the softness of the sleeping place make her forget the cave. Him.

She sits where Sun Hair wants her to.
I’ll be good,
she thinks, looking up, trying to force the happy face.

Sun Hair brings her food to eat.

Girl remembers the rules, and she knows the price of disobeying. It is a lesson Him taught her lots of times. She waits for Sun Hair to smile and nod, to say something. When it is done, Girl eats the sweet, sticky food. When she is finished, Sun Hair takes the rest of the food away. Girl waits.

Finally, Sun Hair sits across from Girl. She touches her chest and says the same thing over and over. “Jool Ya.” Then she touches Girl.

“A lis. A lis.”

Girl wants to be good, wants to stay in this place, with this Her that smiles, and she knows that
something
is expected of her now, but she has no idea what she should do. It seems as if Sun Hair wants Girl to make the bad sounds, but that can’t be true. Her heart is beating so fast it makes her feel sick and dizzy.

Finally, Sun Hair pulls back her hand. She reaches into the square hole beside her and begins putting things on the table.

Girl is mesmerized. She has never seen any of these things. She wants to touch them, taste and smell them.

Sun Hair takes one of the pointed sticks and touches it to the book of lines. Behind her touch, everything is red. “Kraon. Colorbook.”

Girl makes a sound of wonder.

Sun Hair looks up. She is talking to Girl now. In all the babble of sound, she begins to hear a repetition. “A lis play.”

Play.

Girl frowns, trying to understand. She almost knows these sounds.

But Sun Hair keeps talking, keeps pulling things out of the secret place until Girl can’t remember what she is trying to remember. Every new object seizes hold of her, makes her want to reach out.

Then, when Girl is almost ready to make her move, to touch the pointed red stick, Sun Hair pulls It out.

Girl screams and scrambles backward, but she is trapped by this cage on which she sits. She falls, hits her head, and screams again, then crawls on her hands and knees toward the safety of the trees.

She
knew
she shouldn’t have let her guard down. So what that she can breathe here? It is a little thing, a trick.

Sun Hair is frowning at her, talking in a haze of white noise. Girl can make out no sounds at all. Her heart is beating so fast it sounds like the drums of the tribe that fish along her river.

There is almost no space between them now.

Sun Hair holds It out.

Girl screams again and claws at her hair, blowing her nose. Him is here. He knows she likes Sun Hair and he will hurt her now. All she can think is the sound she knows best of all.

Noooo …

Alice pulled at her hair and snorted, shaking her head. A low, throaty growl seemed caught in her throat.

Julia was seeing true emotion. This was Alice’s heart, and it was a dark, scary place.

Julia opened the door and threw the dreamcatcher out in the hallway, then shut the door. “There,” she said in a soothing voice, moving slowly. “I’m sorry, honey. Really sorry.” She knelt down in front of Alice so they were almost eye-to-eye.

Alice was absolutely still now, her eyes wide with fear.

“You’re terrified,” Julia said. “You think you’re in trouble, don’t you?” Very slowly, she reached out and touched Alice’s wrist. The touch was fleeting and as soft as a whisper. “It’s okay, Alice. You don’t have to be scared.”

At the touch, Alice made a strangled, desperate sound and stumbled backward. She hid behind the plants and began a quiet, desperate howling.

The child had no idea how to be comforted. Another of the many heartbreaks of her life.

“Hmmm,” Julia said, making a great show of looking around the room. “What shall we do now?” After a few moments she picked up the old, battered copy of
Alice in Wonderland.
“Where did we leave young Alice?”

She went back to the bed and sat down. With the book open on her lap, she looked up.

Between two green fronds, a tiny, earnest face peered at her.

“Come,” Julia said softly. “No hurt.”

Alice made a pathetic little sound, a mewl of sorts.

It tugged at Julia’s heart, that whimper that sounded at once too old and too young. It was a distillation of longing from fear. “Come,” she said again, patting the bed. “No hurt.”

Still, Alice remained in her safe spot.

Julia started to read: “ ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ said Alice, ‘a great girl like you, (she might well say this) to go on crying in this way! Stop this moment, I tell you! But she went on all the same shedding gallons of tears until there was a large pool around her.’ ”

There was a sound across the room, a scuffing of feet.

Julia smiled to herself and kept reading.

It is a trick.

Girl knows this. She
knows
it.

And yet …

The sounds are so soothing.

She sits in the forest so long her legs begin to ache. Although stillness has always been her way, in this bright place she likes to move, if only because she can.

Don’t do it,
she thinks, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

It is a trick.

When Girl gets close, Her will beat her.

“Comeherealis.”

From the jumble of sounds Sun Hair makes, Girl hears these special noises again. From somewhere, she remembers that they are words.

Trick.

She has no choice but to obey, of course. Sooner or later—sooner, probably—Sun Hair will tire of waiting; this game of hers will lose its fun, and Girl will be in Trouble.

Very slowly she steps from her hiding place. Her heart is hammering. She is afraid it will break through her chest and fall onto the floor.