Page 23 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“Olivia needs a lot of things.” Frustration laced his voice. “But I don’t know how to give her those things. I’m a stranger to her, blood or not. How do I help someone who doesn’t want it?”

How am I supposed to know? I’m not better.“Be there. Be consistent. She needs to know no matter what she says or does, you'll be there for her.”

“She's not making it easy.”

“If it was easy, it wouldn't be worth doing.” And that was true. Diligence and hard work had been necessary to accomplish everything she enjoyed. “There’ll be days when she'll be desperate for company, and others when she needs to be left alone, but there's no logic to it. And she may fight against it, but she needs a good counselor. Someone who can be patient and firm at the same time.”

Another painful silence before Jake responded. “That's not asking for much, eh?”

“She needs people she can trust, and trust is in short supply for women like us. At an age where we were supposed to be developing skills to deal with teenage boys, we encountered a monster. I think Olivia had it harder than me. Her captor was her mother's boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So she endured a complete and total betrayal of trust. At least mine was abduction by a stranger.” Shifting images, pain and anguish.

“Is one worse than the other?”

She shook her head. “In the grand scheme of things, they're both traumatic —just in different ways.”

For the first time, she wanted to ask more questions. Had Olivia undergone the same horrors, or had hers been different? What level of depravity had the young woman faced? This was the first time Marnie’d gone there—to that horrible place in her imagination where she knew exactly what Olivia’d endured.

“Do the nightmares ever stop?”

She didn’t want to answer, but she had to, for Olivia’s sake as well as her own. “Not stop, no, but over time they lessen. I have certain triggers—smells, sights, sounds—that take me right back to that basement. Sometimes I have a nightmare-filled sleep.” Again, she pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I try to be careful—try to stay away from the triggers. After they found Olivia, I was in a bad place for several weeks. The media coverage re-traumatized me. It also reminded me of how lucky I was because I got away. He can't hurt me anymore.”

“Because he’s dead.”

Her laugh was humorless. “That helps.”

A silence descended. It stretched out, both comforting and disconcerting.

Well, now what?“I ought to be going.”

“Before you do, may I ask one question?”

She was instantly wary. “I guess so.”

“Why did you call?”

“I don’t know.” That was only part of the truth. She didn’t like how they parted earlier today. She’d run, taking the coward’s way out. Now she wanted to show him she was stronger than that. “I can see how much you love your niece, and how much you’re hurting. Your faith in me is breath-stealing, Jake, and disconcerting. Olivia needs much more than I can give her.”

“Would you be willing to try?” He pounced on her words.

She didn’t have a snappy comeback to his request because she continued to turn the idea over in her mind. What would happen if she met Olivia and spoke as frankly as she had tonight to Jake? How would she cope if she failed to help the younger woman in her journey of healing? Things were unclear. Yet, still, she felt inexorably linked to Olivia because of their shared experience.

“Maybe.”Could I do this?“Maybe I can talk to her over the phone.”

“In person would be better.” As expected, he took no prisoners. “You must know how important body language is.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“It’s one brief flight.” She didn’t miss the note of hopefulness.

She made a sound of distress, pressing her hand to her chest.

“Are you afraid of flying? It’s not like you haven't flown before.”

“I actually haven't.” An icy dread washed over her as she visualized getting in a tin can and hurtling herself at five hundred kilometers an hour for the four hours it took to get to Toronto. She didn’t have it in her.

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