Page 13 of Lost & Found

A woman exited the doors before rushing to her car. Once I reached the door, I took a deep breath. Pushing through the heavy doors, I stepped into the bright, sterile light. I walked to the desk area, but then froze. I hadn’t had a normal conversation in so long, words literally felt trapped deep inside me.

“Can I help you? Are you in trouble?”

It was the first of many questions they would ask me. I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. The police quickly moved into gear and wrapped me in a blanket. They exchanged glances, whispering to each other as if I couldn’t hear them.

Their demeanors were all wrong. Soft. Gentle. Soothing. It was noise to me. I bowed my head and assumed a wait position. I tried to block out the sounds and lights and mentally retreated inside myself, where it was safe. They took me into a small room, and I sat on a plastic chair.

“Can you at least tell us your name, love?” one of them asked, leaning in close.

Was this a trap? What was my name? Was I supposed to say Autumn? Isabella?

I stared at my feet. Fear coursed through me. I didn’t know what to do. The police officer’s smile faltered, and he looked back at his colleagues, shrugging.

“Let me try.”

Another officer, a woman with kind eyes, introduced herself and knelt in front of me. “Everything is going to be okay. You’re safe. How did you get here?”

I looked around, startled.

“Whoa, you’re safe,” she repeated.

Safe. The word meant something completely different to me than it did to them. I shifted in my seat, my fingers curled into the fabric of my wet clothes. Time dragged on. They brought me water and a snack. I didn’t touch it. The questions kept coming.

Once more my head was bowed and I was drawing in an imaginary sketchbook. I didn’t see the frustration building in the officers. One of them snapped his fingers sharply near my ear. My head whipped up, and I gulped. He slammed his hand down on the table. The noise made me flinch.

“This is getting us nowhere. We are going to have to call NSPCC if you don’t give us a name.”

My eyes darted to the table where a pencil and paper sat. He sighed and rubbed his temples. He caught me staring and slid them across the table toward me. It was his tone of voice that had me scrambling.

“You will write your name down. We don’t have all night. We will send you to a group home if we can’t get in contact with your family. Now write.”

He was tired, and his tone was sharp enough to have me doing exactly what he asked. I took the pencil and scrawled across the pad of paper.

Autumn.

Present Day

Marcel had changed from his suit into something more casual. I smiled, feeling thankful for his willingness to make our sessions seemingly informal. The tie and jacket always made me feel like I was being psychoanalyzed.

I sat across from him in his new home office. I loved everything about this room. It was situated in the heart of the grand mansion, and it screamed Marcel. Sophistication and elegance. It was unmistakably him in every way.

The walls were painted in a warm sage gray, and it had a spa-like feel. One wall had floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the gardens. His desk stood off to one side, its surface polished to a high shine and adorned with an array of papers and two frames. One of Victoria and one of him and Declan.

We were comfortably seated opposite one another. A fire was blazing, and I nestled into the plush sofa, hugging one of the pillows in my arms while he sat in the leather armchair. I ran my fingers through the fringe at the sides. The texture tickled my palms and soothed me.

He rose and reached for the crystal decanter of brandy he always kept on hand and poured himself a glass. The comforting aroma of cinnamon and lavender surrounded me. I couldn’t help but smile. Never in a million years did I think I would actually enjoy counseling, but the reality was that I did.

My mind began its ceaseless dance of contemplation. The coping mechanism I’d developed was as skilled as my girl Kinsley was in ballet. My thoughts had thoughts and were like a whirlwind, swirling and churning. I’d become an expert at dissecting and analyzing every facet of my existence.

I knew how to shut down the most intrusive of them and send them scurrying. It was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it protected me from the raw sting of emotions I often experienced. I knew how to compartmentalize and put things into a rational perspective. And on the other hand, the endless introspection was exhausting.

For better or worse, it was a part of me, and I’d come far. Thanks to him.

“What’s that look for?” he asked.

“Just thinking, what if I had opened up and shared the truth with you earlier? How much farther would I be in life?” I shifted.

“Ah, but therein lies the beauty of growth, my dear. It’s not about when it happens, or where you might be now if we had. We can’t change those things, and it’s wasted energy lamenting missed opportunities. Especially when I firmly believe you’re where you need to be today.”