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"What does Dr. Beth say?"

"She thinks Kaylee is still protecting her mom. You know, Rube, it's amazing to me how strong the bond between child and mother is. I keep thinking back to Kaylee trying to run away to find her mom so she could take care of her. It's hard to understand her motivation—giving up the tangible—the security of a home and someone taking care of her for the intangible—a mother whose choices cost Kaylee so much. The bond is strong."

"Has Kaylee talked to anyone else yet?"

"No. Van and I are it. And I think she tells most of her secrets to Van. He and Kaylee are the only ones who really know what she's suffered."

"And I bet Van's not talking." Ruby's smile warms me. She glances at her watch. "You better go. She'll be done with her appointment in a few minutes." Ruby reaches for my hand. "You know I'm here for you, whatever you need."

I know. I give Ruby's hand a quick squeeze.

As I drive over to Dr. Beth's office to pick up Kaylee, I ponder my conversation with Ruby. She was wise to take me back to the day Kaylee was rescued and the sense of assurance I felt. The fatigue and discouragement of earlier are replaced by renewed determination. I feel ready to face Kaylee—whatever her mood.

But when I walk across the parking lot and see Kaylee, a dark cloud of swirling emotions, standing outside of Dr. Beth's office and Dr. Beth next to her, my stride slows.

Uh-oh.

"Hi there." I give Kaylee a pat on the back and look at Beth, eyebrows raised.

"Hi, Sierra. Kaylee was ready to leave early today, so we decided to come outside, get some fresh air, and wait for you." Beth turns to Kaylee. "You're good to go, girl. We'll follow you to the car. I need to talk to Sierra for a minute."

Kaylee looks from Dr. Beth to me, then stomps her way to the Jeep.

"Not a good session?" I whisper to Beth.

"Not an easy session. But it was good in the sense that I think we're nearing a breakthrough. Although, if not, I fear Kaylee may break down."

My shoulders droop as we follow several paces behind Kaylee toward the Jeep. "What do you mean?"

"Sierra, Kaylee's emotional state is tornado-like right now. You know, you've seen it. She is a mass of churning, negative energy, and that negativity is leaving a wake of destruction. You've told me she's not sleeping or eating well. She's angry, frustrated, and, from all I can see, depressed." Beth hands me a slip of paper. "This is a prescription for an anti-depressant. Fill it today and have her start taking it."

"Is that really necessary?"

"I think it is. Until she's able to release that negativity—until she's able to speak about what happened to her—I'm afraid the memories and all the emotions whirling inside her will become too much for her to handle." Beth pats me on the back, much the same way I'd patted Kaylee. "Call me if you need me. Or page me after office hours."

"Is there anything else I should do? How do I help her?'

"Just keep doing what you're doing. Provide a safe and loving environment for her. And keep her talking."

"Yeah, I'll try. It's easier said than done."

"I know. But if anyone can do it, it's you."

With Beth's encouragement tucked in my heart, I open the door to the Jeep and get in next to Kaylee, who is staring straight ahead. She doesn't acknowledge me—or Beth, when she bends and waves good-bye to Kaylee.

Oh . . . help.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Sierra

Kaylee's screams break my sleep.

I bolt upright at the sound, leap out of bed, and race to her room.

Waking to her screams is becoming routine, but tonight . . . the sound echoing through the house—through my heart—is worse than ever before.

I reach her side, wrap my arms around her, whisper assurances . . . all to no avail. She's trapped in a house of horrors and can't find her way out

"Jesus . . . please." My tears mingle with hers as I press my cheek against hers. "Please . . ."

Her fingers dig into me, clutching, clawing. Her eyes are open, but what she sees isn't here in this room. Darkness has her in its grip and fights to take her away. From me. From life.

From God.

Anger sparks, then flames. "No!" I cup her face, tender but firm. "No! You won't win! Leave her alone!"

The fury in my words isn't for Kaylee, but it gets through to her all the same. She starts. Her eyes blink. And then I see it. The return from the edge of whatever gaping maw has been tormenting her. I feel her shudder, then sag against me.

"Sierra?"

Oh, how I longed to hear her voice. How I waited and waited. And now, it's torture. Because it's so often filled with such fear.

"I'm here, little one. I'm here. I won't leave you . . ."

Yes, waking this way has become routine, but it's not a routine we can live with.
Jesus, I can't stand seeing her suffer, can't stand not knowing what horrors she's reliving in her dreams, night after night.

Can you handle knowing?

The quiet question whispers through me, and I close my eyes. Can I? I don't know. But I have to know. For Kaylee's sake.

After getting her settled again, I make my way outside, to the deck . . . and a break. Too little sleep, the anxiety, the inability to help her. It's too much.

"What do I do? Please just tell me what to do!" Standing on my deck, I sob my prayer into the night.
The truth will set her free. The truth will set her free.
Over and over the familiar words play through my mind. "I know! But how do I get her to speak truth?" Finally I walk back into the bungalow and pick up my Bible and sit at the kitchen table. I turn to John 8:32: "Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."

"Then you will know the truth?" What does that mean?

I keep reading—and then I see it.

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."

I lean back in my chair. "Jesus is the truth?" I whisper my question, but before it is out of my mouth I know the answer. And there, in the middle of another sleepless night, God shows me the truth. His Son. Jesus.

"When we know the truth—Jesus—then He will set us free."

All this time I thought telling the truth would set Kaylee free. But that's not it. That's not even close. It's more. So much more.

As morning dawns, so does clarity. And with it come the first rays of something I haven't felt for a very long time.

Hope.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Kaylee

Okay, kiddo, we're going to do something different today . . ."

Sierra registered me for school, but because I missed a year, she said I have to do school at home for the first semester and she'd help me catch up. So every afternoon now, we do school work. Most of the time I like it, except when we do math. But lately I don't like much of anything.

"I'm going to give you some vocabulary words today. I want you to look them up and write down the definitions for me."

I roll my eyes. "I already know all the words."

"Well, good, then this will be easy for you. Go get your dictionary."

When I come back from my room with the dictionary, Sierra's sitting at the kitchen table writing on a sheet of binder paper. She hands me the paper. "Only three words and, like you said, you already know them. Just look them up and copy the definitions down for me. Then we're going to use those words in a math problem."

I open the dictionary, making sure I bang the cover on the table loud enough to let her know I don't like this. "Are you going to make me do one of those dumb word problems?"

"Just a simple equation." Sierra gets up and leaves me to do the work.

I look at the first word:
Confabulating.

That's just a big word that means talking or speaking. I turn to the word in the dictionary and write down the definition:
to talk together, to converse, to chat; to talk together in an informal, familiar way; chat.

I look at the second word on Sierra's list:
Veracity.

I think for a minute but can't remember what it means. I read the definition, then I copy it:
1. habitual truthfulness; honesty. 2. accuracy of statement; accordance with truth. 3. accuracy or precision, as of perception, measurement, etc. 4. that which is true; truth.
So basically veracity just means truth. I write down the definition.

Then number three:
Emancipate.
Everyone knows what that means—it's like the Emancipation Proclamation. We learned about that in the fourth grade. I look up the word and copy the definition:
1. to set free (a slave, etc.); release from bondage. 2. to free from restraint or influence, as of convention. 3. in law, to release (a child) from a father's control: used in Roman law.

I hit the paper hard with the tip of my pencil when I put a period on the last definition. "I'm done."

Sierra comes back to the table and takes my paper. "Great." She sits down across from me and writes a few more things on the paper and then hands it back to me. "Okay, I want you to solve this problem. It's simple math—pre-algebra, actually.

Written under the definitions is this problem: a + b = c. "I can't add letters."

"Sure you can. There's a variable for each letter—in other words, each letter stands for something. Write down what they stand for and then you'll have solved the equation." Sierra points at each of the definitions I wrote—she's written a letter next to each one. "Write it out."

I pick up my pencil again and write out the equation.
Confabulating + Veracity = Emancipate.
Then I hand the paper back to Sierra.

"Oh, the last one should be Emancipation. My fault—sorry."

I take the paper back and scratch out Emancipate and change it to
Emancipation.

I start to hand it back to Sierra again, but she tells me to keep it.

"Now, I want you to simplify the equation. Write one synonym for each of the words in the equation. Choose a simple word that means what the harder words mean.

"That's easy." I look at the words and think about the simple definitions. Then I know what she wants. I write:
Speaking + Truth = Freedom.

"Perfect. Now, let's go outside. Bring the paper along."

I follow Sierra out to the deck where she scoots the two Adirondack chairs so they're facing each other. "Have a seat, little one."

My stomach clenches. "Are you . . . are you going to . . . ask me questions again?"

Sierra sits down in the chair and stretches her long legs in front of her. She taps my foot with one of hers. "Questions? No, not today. I've badgered you with enough questions lately. Today I'm going to tell you a story."

I lean back in my chair. A story? Oh good.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Sierra

Sitting across from Kaylee, I pray God will reveal the Truth to her. Her attitude has shifted from sullen boredom to anxiety. Her foot twitches and her question comes out in a stammer—a sure sign of her angst, I've learned.

I take a deep breath, send another silent plea heavenward, and then begin. "When I was five years old, my mother and daddy told me about Jesus. They told me He was the Son of God and that He died on the cross to forgive my sins. And they explained that if I believed in Him and asked Him to live in my heart, that I'd have eternal life. I'd get to live in heaven with Jesus forever."

Kaylee nods for me to continue.

"That evening, when I was five, Mother and Daddy tucked me into bed and I told them I believed in Jesus and wanted Him in my heart. So they both knelt with me by my bed and prayed with me. I asked Jesus to come into my heart and live there forever. But I didn't really understand all that meant."

I turn and look out to the yard. The roses are bursting with the last blooms of fall and the branches of the redwood drape the yard in filtered shade. I'm reminded, through the beauty of creation, that God is with me in this moment. He will lead the way. "Little one, hand me your paper again."

Kaylee reaches for the paper she laid on the deck next to her chair and hands it to me.

"See this equation: Speaking + Truth = Freedom? That's what I've been telling you since you started speaking, right?"

Kaylee's foot starts tapping again. She nods.

I cross out the original equation and write a new one: Jesus = Truth = Freedom. I hand the paper back to Kaylee. "Kiddo, Jesus is the Truth. When we believe in Him, He sets us free. We can't set ourselves free, no matter how often we tell the truth. Only Jesus can set us free. Does that make sense?"

Kaylee shrugs. "Kind of . . ."

"I've told you over the last few weeks that you need to tell the truth about what happened at the cabin with Jack and with your mom. And when you talk about those things, when you tell the truth, you'll be free of the nightmares and memories and all the things hurting you right now. But that's not exactly right."

I pick up my Bible and turn to John 8:32 again. "'Jesus said, "Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.'" Jesus is talking about Himself in that verse. He is the only one who can set you free. When we believe in Jesus, when we invite Him to live in our hearts, it means we'll be in heaven with Him forever, but there's even more. It means we can have a relationship with Him now, here, every day. It means we can depend on Him to help us through the pain we're suffering. We can count on Him to comfort us and guide us. Sweetie, I've been wrong. It isn't talking that can set you free. Only Jesus can do that."

Kaylee's eyes are wide and focused. I have her full attention.

"I still think it's important for you to talk about what happened. I know it will be hard for you, but always remember what I told you, that nothing you've gone through is your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. The thing is, sometimes it's only when we tell the truth that others can help us. I'll give you an example, okay?"

She nods.

"Remember when we talked about Annie?"

Kaylee leans forward in her chair. "Yes."

"I was using drugs when I got pregnant with Annie. Ruby and I were roommates then, and Ruby tried to get me to stop taking drugs, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't listen to her. I just wanted to do what I was doing. The drugs had a hold on me. Finally, when Ruby figured out I was pregnant, she threatened me."