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“What is it, then?” Gregor asked, pulling me back to the present.
“I’m worried about what they’ll do to me,” I admitted, voice low, like I was confessing a dirty secret.
“Well, that’s sure understandable with the sh—with what Alan pulled.” He gave a slightly worried glance at Michelle as he struggled to control his swearing.
That was adorable enough to make me smile despite it all. I helped Michelle out of her car seat and lifted her over the puddle of ice beside the car door. “Oof, you’ve gotten so big!”
She giggled a little. That was promising. Wasn’t it?
“Yeah, well, hearing he was trying to get into my apartment and putting trackers on my car has wrecked any faith I had left in the cops. I don’t trust that they won’t turn out to be bad guys.”
I took Michelle’s hand, and we picked our way around the ice patches to the clinic’s front door. My stomach started fluttering as we walked into the waiting room, which was all bright primary colors and molded plastic chairs. Gregor stayed standing so he wouldn’t destroy any of them. I went up to the blond wooden counter and forced a smile at the receptionist, who had big, liquid brown eyes and a grandmotherly sweetness to her expression. “Hi, I’m here with Michelle for Dr. Mason’s nine o’clock.”
Michelle peeked over the edge of the counter solemnly.
The receptionist beamed at her. “Well, hi there, sweetie.” She looked up at me. “I’ll let her know. It will be about ten minutes.”
Twenty minutes of reading to Michelle and schooling myself on patience later, we were called back into a pretty little study that reminded me a bit of Gregor’s office. Plenty of books, a large couch, overstuffed chairs, a desk in the corner. Gregor didn’t have a stand table or cupboards full of toys, though.
Dr. Amanda Mason was a tiny woman with a lined oval face, small green eyes, and a heavy wine velvet suit with a long skirt and embroidery. Her voice carried a thick Germanic accent, and her smile was like the sun coming up.
“Well, hello there. Come in, come in, make yourselves comfortable.” She gestured to the couch. We sat, the two of us flanking Michelle.
Michelle looked at this new person with solemn curiosity. She had been fairly calm on the ride over. Now, she looked between the three of us, as if trying to decide what to make of this situation.
“So,” the doctor said, looking at Gregor and me. “Why have you brought Michelle to me today?”
“Where to begin,” I sighed.
She smiled indulgently. “Take your time.”
I told her the whole story. The kidnapping, what I knew of her kidnappers, the police being useless, Gregor stepping in, Michelle’s return, and her absent voice. I had barely started before the doctor’s smile had died and she was rapidly keying things into her laptop. By the end of it, she looked downright concerned.
“Are you in therapy yourself?” she asked.
“I’ve been a member of a support group for over a year now,” I said.
“Good. It is important to care for yourself enough while you are caring for your daughter. If you are distressed, she will pick up on it. Besides, if you are in a good place, you will have more resources to look after her.” More typing. “That said, what you and your family have been through is incredible. This will probably reach the press, which will mean a whole new pressure on you and yours. Especially Michelle.”
Gregor spoke up for the first time. “I intend to be very strict when it comes to press access. If the situation becomes uncomfortable for either Michelle or Alissa, I will step in.”
“That’s good to hear, and I’m glad you’re involved,” the doctor said as I sat there stunned. Here went Gregor, surprising me again with how much he actually gave a damn. How rare had that been in my life that it kept shocking me?
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Believe me, I’m grateful. I’ve been handling this all on my own, just because we’d fallen out of touch, and now… When Gregor showed up, my luck and Michelle’s finally turned.”
Gregor hid a smile.
The doctor didn’t hide hers. “Well,” she said. “A positive home life is the absolute best thing you can give your daughter to get her talking again. Clearly, she’s been traumatized. She saw something, or had someone say something to her, that silenced her. But now that she’s home safe, she should recover. It is just a matter of time, patience, and work. That said, I think having her work with a speech therapist is very important. I have one I work with who specializes in young children. Emailing you now.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. “Now, as for our work, it is very difficult for your daughter to express herself without words, so we will try to use other methods to communicate. Art, for example. As she learns to write, she can use that as even more of a bridge to speaking again. Baby steps.”
“Baby steps,” I confirmed. “So, where do we start?”
“Get her started on her letters and give her plenty of opportunities to draw. Eventually, I will ask her to draw some of her experiences.” She looked at Michelle. “Would you like to draw while we grownups talk?”
She nodded, and the doctor guided her to a big clipboard and a set of crayons. Michelle immediately went to work, a sliver of tongue caught between her lips as she concentrated.
We then figured out a game plan for her appointments and progress. The doctor seemed as concerned with shoring us up as she was bonding with my daughter. It put me at ease, as did her optimism about Michelle, but I still worried about what was going to happen once the news was out. If Michelle ended up being chased around by nosy reporters and officious cops, she might withdraw even further. I didn’t even know how I was going to handle such uncomfortable and unwanted fame myself.
At least Gregor was around, and willing to put himself between us and not only danger, but harassment. What in the world would I have done without him?
