Kidnapped: Happily Ever After

Part 4

Part 4

The next week is a blur in my memory, I didn’t do much, and what I did do was methodical. Mr. Craig made sure I still took my morning rides, but I didn’t enjoy them now that Tom was gone, and even Gem wasn’t her normal self. I know Mrs. Everest and Mr. Craig noticed my behavior, and no doubt knew the reason, but they never said anything.

I believe now that Mr. Craig was, underneath everything, a kind-hearted man, just unused to displays of affection, and that kept him from comforting me.

Mrs. Everest didn’t take much pity on me, and I’m afraid I made her rather angry at times with my absent-mindedness.

But by the next week I had recovered my spirits somewhat, and began to notice the changed around the house. I suddenly noticed there were no more mysterious visitors to Mr. Craig’s office, even though the worthy gentleman spent more time in there than before.

One evening after supper, he invited me into the library and we sat together, I, reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and he, The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. It soon became our ritual to read together in the evening, and I cherished those times, for he was becoming more agreeable. Even Mrs. Everest noticed our growing relationship, and snorted whenever she passed the library door when we were in there. But since Mr. Craig didn’t seem perturbed by her reaction, I didn’t let it ruffle me either.

One night when I had reached the scene in my book of the great battle with the squid, Mr. Craig’s book apparently had reached a dry portion, and he wished to talk.

“Did you ever get your sweater back?”

I with difficulty pulled myself out of the tale and turned my attention to his question.

“Yes, sir.” I wondered why he had suddenly brought that up.

“Had it been cleaned?”

“Yes, sir.” Becoming gradually more curious why he should be interested in my sweater, I closed the book and gave him my full attention.

He looked into the fireplace, which, although empty, held an irresistible interest.

“When I went to kill the puppies you told me about, I found Gem all tangled up in it.” He grinned, which was becoming more common as well. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill her.”

“I always thought there was something about that sweater.” Wonder filled my voice. “But why did you give her to me?”

“A weak moment of sentiment,” he said sheepishly, and I realized that Mr. Craig hadn't been so bad all along.

I was silent for a while.

“Why did you want to kill all of Betty’s litter?” I finally asked.

“I have no need for puppies, and I was going to do it mercifully.” He still stared into the empty fireplace.

“But they were starving in that shed!” The memory of six hungry faces still haunted me some nights.

“I gave orders they were to be shot, but Jeston was cruel. He put them there without food or water, and I never knew anything about it until you said something.”

I believed him. I had gotten to know Mr. Craig rather well during the last few weeks, and I didn’t think he was the type of man who would purposely inflict torture on innocent animals, but to be honest, I didn’t know what he did to people connected with his business. Jeston’s gun flashed across my mind and I shuddered.

It dawned on me then that I hadn’t seen Jeston, or any men besides the gardener around the house in quite awhile. I wanted to ask Mr. Craig, but old habits die hard and I kept silent.

The next morning Mr. Craig announced that he had retained his old job of accountant. Mrs. Everest and I shared dumbfounded looks, before she simply said,

“Yes, sir,” and disappeared back into her kitchen. I was more curious.

“Why, sir?”

“Because it satisfies me again.” Was his simple reply that left a smile on my face.

I enjoyed my ride that morning, and even wrestled with Gem a little bit, but it was obvious she didn’t think it was as fun as playing with Tom.

When I lay in my bed that night, I pondered how far Mr. Craig and I had come since we first met. We were now what I would call friends, though I still meekly called him “sir”. I thought of my first impressions of this house, and the many secrets it had seemed shrouded in, and then I considered the true stories behind it all. I could honestly say I was glad I had been kidnapped, but that brought another question: Did I want to go back home? I was sure Mr. Craig would let me now, but if I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to go back. I felt like this was my home now.

I heard a truck motor, and I thought I was in a reverie, reliving the day Tom left, telling me his life was elsewhere, but instead of gradually growing fainter as he drove away, it grew louder, and stopped right under my window. I sat up, not believing my ears. We didn’t have visitors anymore, and I liked it that way. I looked out the window, annoyed that someone would come calling at 4:00 in the morning.

Tom! I could see him climbing out of the truck, but I didn’t believe my eyes! He glanced up and my heart stopped beating. It was him! I snatched my robe from my bed and threw it over my shoulders as I flew down the staircase and along the hall; the same route I had followed before, but this time my heart raced with joy. When I reached the entryway I flung the door open. Tom was standing by his truck, duffel bag in hand, facing the steps when I appeared, and one look into his eyes was all it took.

I ran into his waiting arms and he held me tight.

I finally recovered myself, and vainly attempting a glare I scolded him,

“Do you think you can just waltz back into my life and pick up where you left off?”

I was hoping you'd forgive me for leaving you at the mercy of my father.”

“Believe it or not,” I replied with a smile, “Your father and I get along very well.”

I could tell he didn't believe me, but judging by the size of his duffel bag I reasoned I would have plenty of time to prove to him that Mr. Craig wasn't so bad after all. It felt right to walk back inside with Tom, and who knows, maybe someday I'll walk in on his arm.

The End