When Emma's first article appeared in the paper, she waited a day before going into town, letting people have a chance to read it at leisure. When she arrived at the Rainbow the next day, everybody was eager to talk. It was the same as she visited others in town.
Some people wanted to talk about the kidnapping and molestation. Emma put them off by reminding them that "Mel" (the name she had assigned herself in the article) had no memory of what happened. She had kind of a premonition of danger, and that was what led her to escape as quickly as she could.
The idea of amnesia provoked a lot of conversation. Everybody had heard of it, of course, seen it depicted in the movies or on tv, or read about it in a book, but few had really considered it from a real-life standpoint. There were a few jokes about the things in their lives that people would like to forget but, in general, the discussions were pretty serious. Emma had written in her introductory paragraph that it was probably impossible for a person to describe amnesia if they hadn't experienced it personally. Everybody who tried to envision themselves with amnesia quickly came to that conclusion. Even under what might be considered "the best of circumstances" - in which you had no memory, but people around you did, and so could help you, to some extent - it seemed too unreal. In Mel's case - with her entirely alone, with no one to lend support - it seemed too sad and overwhelming to even try to imagine.
Of course, the part of the article that caught everybody's attention was Mel's three months in the snow, saving coyotes from steel traps. A few skeptics couldn't believe that happened, or thought that the story was greatly exaggerated. Emma assured them she had the proof. After the others got through wondering why the savage coyotes hadn't torn her to shreds, the usual questions were why did she do it, and how did she know what to do. Mel didn't know; she just started doing it.
A big question was why did she stay in the cabin three months, and not try to find out who she was. Mel had a partial answer to that - she was worried that her kidnapper might still be looking for her, and she didn't even know what he looked like. That probably wasn't the real reason. Probably, she stayed there because she had no idea what else to do. She did invent an identity for herself - Melinda Jones. She knew it didn't mean anything - clearly, she wasn't Melinda Jones - but she needed to be somebody. As the months passed, she invented family to go with the name, and she became somewhat real.
Mel had made occasional trips off the mountain to replenish her supplies. Emma ended her first column with one of those trips - one on which she met another girl, who shared her next big adventure with her.
All in all, the story seemed to be a local hit. She found the same thing the next day, when she took the train to Cold Flat Junction, and visited with the regulars at the Windy Run Diner. They had pretty much the same questions and comments, including jokes about the things they'd like to forget. It was an enjoyable day for Emma.
Sitting on the station platform waiting for her train ride home, Emma thought a bit about The Girl. She also thought about the previous week's discussions, about whether or not the Hotel Paradise was an historic building. However, she couldn't concentrate on either subject, and soon realized that she wasn't feeling at all well. It wasn't physical - she didn't think she was going to throw up, and she didn't have a headache - but it was clearly something causing a real disturbance to her thinking and wellbeing. She made it onto the train, feeling quite unwell. At La Porte, she didn't stop to see anyone, but walked directly home.
***
The house was dark, and at first Maud thought no one was home. Then, she heard what sounded like weeping. She called out to Emma, but there was no answer. She turned on a living room light, and made her way to the bedroom. Emma was sitting on the bed, tears streaming down her face. Apparently, she had been crying for some time.
"Emma? What's wrong, honey?"
Emma looked up at her face, as forlorn as Maud had ever seen anyone. "He was chanting at me - 'Emma Graham, Emma Graham. I'll have some special pages in my scrapbook for you, Emma Graham. I'll enlarge the photos, and write your name, address, and telephone number by them, so I won't forget.' Maud, he knew the whole time who I was!"
Maud sat beside her on the bed, and put an arm around her. "You're talking about Harry Wine?" Emma nodded. "Do you want to tell me?"
"I think I need to." Emma tried to compose herself, but she obviously was right on the edge the whole time she talked. "Sam was right about how Harry got me. I had left my luggage at the bus station, and had only taken my wallet and backpack with me. It had my money, and my bus tickets. I wasn't far from the bus when I slipped, and fell on the pavement. I don't think I hit my head or anything, but I was a little shaken up. Harry was driving by, and stopped to help me. I insisted I was okay, but he told me it looked like a pretty bad fall, and he thought it would be a good idea if I at least sat in his car for a bit. I did, and was only feeling just a little shaky. He brought out a bottle of water from somewhere, and had me drink quite a bit. Obviously, it had something in it. I never lost consciousness, but I got very weak and groggy. He took me to the motel, and just left me in the car while he went in and registered. He must have been pretty confident that I would stay groggy for quite a while.
"He took me to our motel room, sat me in a chair, and closed all the curtains. Then, he started to undress me. I was too weak to resist him, but I tried to cry out. He gagged me with some kind of cloth, and took off the rest of my clothes."
She couldn't go on for a minute, as the memories came back stronger. "He lifted me up on the bed. I was too weak to fight him as he tied my hands and my feet to the four corners of the bed, so I was spread-eagled. I couldn't have resisted, anyway, but he had tied me so tight that I couldn't do anything. He walked around the bed, and touched me in various places. I knew everything he was doing, but I was helpless. I think I might have been more angry than scared, but it didn't matter to him. He did what he wanted.
"Finally, he got a camera out of his belongings, and began to take pictures of me. He took them from all angles, full shots and close-ups of various parts of my body. He was touching me between photos, and was chanting, like I said, my name over and over, and how he was going to keep the pictures to remember me by.
"When he stopped, he checked to make sure my gag was in place, and that my hands and feet were still tied tightly. Then, he blindfolded me, and I heard him go out of the room. I lay there a long time - maybe even an hour. I assume he was over talking to the motel manager, regaling her with his charm and his stories. Finally, he came back, and began handling me, again. I heard him go into the bathroom, then he came back and took off my blindfold. He was naked."
Emma had to stop to compose herself before she could go on. "He was naked," she repeated. "He chanted my name over and over again as he came up on the bed next to me. He said some things about how much I was going to enjoy what he was going to do with me. Then, he was on top of me, and he was hurting me, badly. The next thing I remembered - the only thing I remembered! - was waking up in the morning, fully clothed, and no one in the room with me."
Maud had tightened her grip on Emma, and was crying profusely. "Emma darling, I'm so sorry! You said he was an evil person, but that is depraved. No wonder your mind wouldn't let you remember!"
They consoled one another for some time before Maud began to think about what to do next. "If it's okay with you, I think we should tell Sam. With Wine dead, and nothing to do legally, I don't see that anybody else needs to know any of this. It's going to be the three of us who go forward, now. Do you agree?"
"Yes, I think Sam should know the details. I don't think I can tell it, again - at least, not for a while. Can you do it? I can discuss it with him later, if we need to say more, but not right away."
"Sure, honey. I can handle it."
***
Maud stayed and held Emma, until Emma drifted off into a restless sleep. She was still asleep when Sam arrived home. Maud told him what had happened. He was equal parts sad and very angry.
"We talked about this, driving home, and I tried to prepare her. Of course, there was no way to prepare for that. I was pretty sure that she had been treated very badly - to have her trauma last so long, and be so complete - but I couldn't bring myself to imagine something like that. What a depraved bastard! If he wasn't dead already, I think I'd forget about bringing him to justice, and just shoot the son-of-a-bitch, myself!
Maud leaned against him. "I know. That was my reaction, too. For him to know all about her, and withhold that information from her when she found him later, goes beyond anything human. Sam, I feel so bad for her!"
"I know, Maudie. I don't know what you and I can do except be here for her. I think she may need some professional help, though. I'll get going on that tomorrow."
Emma was still asleep when Sam left for work the next morning. Maud offered to stay home with her, but she realized that her motherly hovering was just making Emma nervous. Against her better judgment, she went to work, but told Emma she'd call, later.
She called around noon. Emma said she was "okay." She wasn't, but what was there to say or do? "I've been working on my next newspaper column. It's going kind of slow, but at least it's giving my mind something else to think about."
"Okay, sweetie. I'll call you again, later."
"No, don't, Maud. I'm going to try and take a nap, I think. We can talk when you get home."
***
Emma tried to work for another hour or so, then made a phone call. "Dwayne, I really need to talk to you. Please, as soon as you can. It may take some time."
"Sure, Em. You want to do it after work, today?"
"If you can. I could walk over to your house, and meet you there."
There was a slight pause. "Are you sure that's where you want to meet, considering our recent discussion?"
"This is a case of necessity, I think."
When Dwayne arrived home a few hours later, Emma was sitting on his front porch, waiting. He helped her to her feet. "Did you try the door? It's almost always unlocked."
"No, I just sat down to wait."
He ushered her inside, and held her for just a moment. She seemed calm, but her eyes looked like she had been crying, recently. "Hang on just a minute while I get settled, Em. You want to sit down - need something to drink?"
She sat on the couch. "Maybe a glass of water."
He got her the water, took care of a few personal needs, then came back and sat beside her. "This sounded fairly urgent."
"It is." She stopped for a minute. "I didn't know whether to come to you with it, or not. I guess I'm still not sure. Maud and Sam are good to me, but when I think I need something other than mom-and-dad therapy, your face always seems to appear in my thoughts."
He smiled, and touched her arm. "You mean somebody who doesn't love you with all his heart and soul, and can look objectively at your worst problems without getting personally involved?"
She tried to smile. "Yes, something like that."
"Well, if you don't already know it, I'll just say that I am always ready to talk to you. I don't know if I can always help, but I'm always ready to listen."
She still took a few moments before she replied. "I remember my kidnapping, Dwayne." He must have tensed up. "It's pretty awful, Dwayne. If you don't want to hear..."
He put his arm around her, and pulled her a little closer to him. (He wasn't sure that was the right thing to do. He'd read somewhere that abuse victims were often wary of personal contact, but it was instinctive.) "Em, I don't think I want to hear, but you obviously need to tell me. I don't know how I can help, but I won't be able to do anything, if I don't know what happened. So, just tell me at your own speed."
She did, as graphically as she had told Maud. He held on to her through her entire narrative, but didn't say anything. "My poor darling," he whispered, as she leaned against him, sobbing a little. He waited yet a little longer before he spoke.
"I read somewhere fairly recently that about 25 percent - one-quarter! - of American women said they had been sexually assaulted in their lives. That's an amazingly horrible statistic for any society that claims to be 'civilized!' No rape is 'better' or 'worse' than any other. To the one molested, any assault must be horrible. The difference between them may be how the person is affected in either the short term, or the longer term.
"You, Em, were just a kid. You hadn't even experienced a little romance with boys your own age. You were all alone, with no chance of being rescued. You were treated especially sadistically by your kidnapper, who made sure that you were fully aware that he could do anything he wanted to you. It's no wonder that your brain just refused to think about any of that - why you lost your memory for so long, and so completely.
"Now, while you were 'Andi,' you didn't have the severe trauma that 'Emma' had. She was pretty sure she'd been raped, but she didn't have any vivid memories of it. She didn't really have any memories of it, at all. When you as 'Andi' went looking for Harry Wine, it wasn't about the rape. It was because you thought he was the only one who could tell you who you were. 'Andi' wasn't physically hurt, and she didn't get pregnant, or get any sexual disease, or any other obvious after-effect, so - to 'her' - for two years it was just one of those bad things that happen in one's life.
"But Em, when you suddenly remembered, you weren't remembering something that happened two years ago . Your mind was remembering what happened to 'Emma' yesterday - actually, just that minute, while the assault was still going on, and your brain just couldn't take anymore! No wonder it's been so real. It's a very fresh wound for you. Your mind needs a chance to decide what it's going to do with those memories, and that will probably take a little time."
Emma was pressed against him, her face against his chest. She didn't seem to be crying, anymore, but she didn't say anything. "Em, I don't know much about this sort of thing, but I have a few ideas from what I've heard and read. Can I try a little 'sidewalk psychology' on you?"
She nodded against him.
"Okay. One thing that apparently happens after a sexual assault is that the person becomes uncomfortable being close to others. I wasn't sure that I should have grabbed you and held on to you so quickly after you told me what happened. You didn't shy away - in fact, cuddled close. I know that may only be a response to irresistible me, but I don't think so. Probably, you've already hugged Maud and Sam, with no hesitation. I don't think you're t going to have any trouble with being close to those you love. That is very good.
"Another thing that sometimes happens is that the assault victim becomes afraid of any possibility of having sex, because she always associates the idea with the bad things that have happened to her. I can understand why that might happen, and how disastrous it could be for her future happiness. I think the really important thing here is to convince the brain that what happened wasn't sex! That may seem really odd to say, but I don't think that psychologists feel rape is usually about having sex with the victim. It's about control, about making the victim know that she can't stop whatever is going to happen. The attack may end with some physical sex, but that's just the culmination of complete domination - other than being physically hurt - or being murdered! - it's the most invasive, personal thing that can happen.
"I think what Wine did to you is an example of what I mean. He did eventually rape you, but most of the session - from drugging you, to tying and gagging you, to taunting you, to taking pictures of your most private areas - was to emphasize your helplessness. If he had really wanted you for his sexual pleasure, there would have been a lot more of it.
"It's awful to spell that all out for you - and I really am extremely sorry, Em! - but I did it to show you how that differs from sex. In a real sexual relationship, two lovers - maybe husband and wife, maybe good friends - come together to make each other feel loved, wanted, special, and hopefully eventually especially satisfied. Not all sex is perfect for both partners - in America, we've actually grown up in a culture that has usually implied that sexual satisfaction was more important for the male than the female. Nevertheless, the basic premise is to make each other feel good. In other words, as far in the opposite direction as one can go from what Harry Wine did to you."
Emma had given no response for some time. Dwayne had no idea how much - if anything - she was taking in, or even if she was awake. Clearly, she was relaxed against him, and that had to be a good thing. He kissed her on the forehead, and held her just a little tighter.
He woke up to a dark house, with a lovely burden still nestled against him. He carefully lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bedroom, covered her with a blanket, and went back to the living room to call Maud.
"If you're looking for a daughter, she's here."
"Hi Dwayne. Yes, she left me a note. How's she doing?"
"I don't know for sure. She's peaceful and relaxed, which is a far cry from how she was when I first got home. She was really wound up, and told me the whole kidnap-rape story. We talked for over an hour - well, I talked. I have no idea how much she heard or understood. I fell asleep sitting by her. When I woke, I carried her to my bed, and covered her with a blanket. She never stirred.
"What I was thinking is that, if she woke soon, I'd take her home to you. If she doesn't, I'll just let her sleep, while I curl up in my recliner chair."
"Well, it's pretty late. I imagine she'll just sleep through."
"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking, too." He paused a moment. "I've been wondering why these memories surfaced now. I know she's gradually been remembering a lot, but this is really the memory - probably the whole cause of the amnesia. I would have thought that something pretty significant would have triggered her remembering."
"Sam and I thought that, too. We were wondering if it was the newspaper articles. The subject is barely mentioned in her story - well, she didn't know anything when she wrote this first one, and she didn't want to emphasize that part of the story, anyway. But she's been digging around in all the other details from that period, and everybody's probably bringing it up in a general way. Maybe that was the trigger."
"You could be right, Maud. That was definitely the sensitive period."
"Along those lines, Sam and I were wondering why the memory came back to her so violently. I mean, it's been two years."
Dwayne gave a little chuckle. "I think I know the answer to that one - if fact, I told Emma, although I don't know if she was awake at the time. It hasn't been two years. It isn't Andi's memory, not her trauma. Andi was pretty sure she'd been raped, but she hadn't experienced it - didn't know the details. The only emotion she could have about it was just a general need to escape. Emma's brain shut down before the rape was even concluded, so when she 'woke,' it was like it was just concluding, or maybe still going on. It was immediate, fresh, and raw."
"Good lord!" Maud exclaimed. "We never thought of that. We probably should have reacted differently."
"Maybe, but what could you do, really? What she needed was somebody she loved to be with her. You were."
***
Dwayne had been dozing in his chair when he heard Emma call his name. He glanced at the clock - 3:30 - then went to check on her. She was sitting up on the edge of the bed. He sat down next to her. "Hi sleepyhead, how are you doing?"
"I'm a little groggy, but I think okay. What time is it?"
"Very early in the morning. Do you need something to eat, or drink?"
"No, I don't think so. I do need to get up for a minute." She went into the bathroom and was gone a few minutes, then came and sat back down by him.
"It is pretty early, Em. Can you sleep more?"
"I think so." She wiggled around a little bit. "I'm kind of uncomfortable. Can you help me unhitch my bra?"
Dwayne grinned at her. "Now, that is a challenge I think I can accept. Front or back attachment?"
She gave him a sleepy, but appraising look. "Back. I think if it was front, it might be better if I did it for myself"
"Perhaps that would be wisest. Okay, turn around a little bit." He lifted the back of her blouse. He had no familiarity with bra attachments, but this didn't look took difficult. He moved both his hands onto her back, but didn't start the operation, immediately.
"Are you having a problem, Dwayne?"
"No, no. I'm just being sure I fully understand the procedure. I don't want to do it incorrectly."
"Dwayne, it's two small eyes, from which you remove two small hooks. How difficult can it be?"
"Well, if you're not concerned with whether I do it right..." He unhooked it, it parted, and revealed a new stretch of lovely back. He thought he should kiss the area where the connection had been. He did.
"Dwayne, I think it's done."
He draped her blouse back in place, and turned her to face him, again. "It really is awfully early. Do you think you can sleep a little longer."
"I think so." She swung her legs up on the bed, and started to pull the blanket over her."
"Do you mind if I share your blanket, Em? The chair was getting a little uncomfortable."
She gave him that appraisingly look, again. "I guess, if you behave yourself."
"What could you be referring to?"
"Dwayne, turn off the light, and get under here." He did.
They slept for several more hours, and were up in time to have breakfast together before Dwayne left to open the shop. He offered to drive her home, but she decided to walk. It was going to be a warm, sunny day.
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