Trapped Page 9
He set down his coffee cup down at the head of the table and then shook her hand. “I’m Cooper. These two fellas are Max and Fred.”
She glanced in their direction.
A man with a ponytail and a neatly trimmed beard stood and extended his hand. His blue eyes were startling against his tanned complexion and all that hair. “Max.”
She leaned over and shook his hand.
Fred gave a wave. “That must mean I’m Fred.”
“Angelina.”
Fred smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Sadness? Anger? She wasn’t sure which.
“And, of course, you already met Rosie.” Cooper sat down and took a sip from his mug. “She’s been here so long she could run the meeting.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Then again maybe I could. I feel better when I come so I keep coming.” She pointed at the plastic containers. “Besides, who would feed all of you if I didn’t show up?” Rosie poured coffee into a cup. “Don’t let Cooper kid you. There’s nothing unofficial about it. He’s Reverend Cooper Stone. He’s the preacher here at the church as well as our fearless leader for the group.”
“Co-leader. Actually, more like substitute leader. I fill in when the actual leader has to work or can’t be here for whatever reason.”
“And what’s his reason tonight?” Rosie asked. “I miss him when he’s gone.”
“He’s working.”
“It figures. He works way too hard.” Rosie held a cup out to her. “Want some?”
Angelina shook her head and stared at the table. She’d thought it would be a big enough group that she could blend into the background. She wished she were back in her tiny apartment above the garage.
Max motioned to a chair beside him. “You can sit here. I don’t bite. I promise.”
She nodded and slid into to her seat, hoping she’d just sink into it and disappear. Her gaze fell on a white board with huge red letters written on it.
‘He restoreth my soul.’ Psalm 23:3 was written in parentheses.
Cooper must have noticed, because he said, “That’s our motto here. No matter what each of us went through, God can and will restore your soul. But that doesn’t mean it will be easy.”
Psalms? God? A preacher? She’d thought this was a PTSD meeting not a Bible study. Maybe she was in the wrong place. Or she’d come on the wrong night. She wanted to leave, but that would only call more attention to herself.
Cooper stood and walked over to the white board. He wrote: I CAN DO ALL THINGS THROUGH CHRIST WHO STRENGTHENS ME. And in parentheses, Philippians 4:13. That’s our verse for this week.” Cooper picked up a stack of index cards and passed them to Rosie. Pens followed.
Rosie took one of each and then passed them to Fred, who then looked at Angelina.
“He gives us a Bible verse each week,” Rosie explained. “Then we’re supposed to meditate on it throughout the week. It really has been most helpful. I read through my stack every day. On a bad day several times. And this is one of my favorites.”
“Rosie’s our resident optimist,” Fred said as he passed the cards to Max. “She loves every verse no matter what it is.”
Angelina took the cards and pens from Max. “Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Definitely a Bible study, not a PTSD group. She found the courage to speak up. “You know I think I’m in the wrong meeting. I wanted the…” She stopped. Could she even say the word aloud? Remembering what Dr. Markley had said about not being ashamed, she finished her sentence. “I wanted the PTSD meeting.”
Cooper nodded. “This is the place, sort of. We aren’t strictly a PTSD support group but we’re all about recovery here. No matter what circumstances brought you. Some probably do have PTSD, whether it’s their official diagnosis or not. The point of our group is to support each other as we try to get back to the business of living in a healthy way.”
“Oh.” Now how was she supposed to get out of here after he said that? “I guess I thought everyone here would have PTSD.”
“We may all come from a variety of backgrounds, but our common bond is that our life isn’t really working for us the way it should.” Cooper’s gaze was kind. “But the good news is God promises us beauty for ashes—no matter what caused the ashes in the first place.”
As the group wrote the verse, Cooper looked at her. “You did know we were a faith-based group, right?”
“Not really.”
“Is that a problem for you?”
Sort of. But when she’d been kidnapped, she’d had no problem praying to God for help. And, miraculously, Nate had shown up out of nowhere. He’d saved her, and then she’d forgotten all about God. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to spend a little time thinking about the Lord. She shrugged. “Not at all.”
“For me, God really has been the key to getting healthier. I’m not all the way there, but I’m getting closer,” Rosie said.
“Would you like to share how you found our little group? I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name the first time.” Cooper blew on his coffee and waited for her to respond.
“Angelina.”
He nodded. “Angelina, how did you find us, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She should have listened to Keren. She was right. This wouldn’t help. She didn’t want to talk, and she didn’t really want to listen to them either. She forced herself to look at Cooper as she answered his question. “My doctor gave me a list of support groups.”
“Let me guess, we were the closest to your house,” Rosie said as she picked up one of her cookies. “That’s how I ended up here, too. Didn’t want to drive to a larger city for a support group.”
She lifted her gaze to Rosie’s. “I hate to admit it, but that’s kind of how I picked this meeting, too.”
“Well, nothing wrong with that. But now I come to church here as well. Love the place. Cooper will have to kick me out if they want to get rid of me.”
“Why would we want to do that, Rosie? Especially when you bring such delicious cookies.” Cooper grinned at Rosie, took a sip of his coffee, and set it on the table. “Seriously though, we’re all at different places spiritually. It’s not a requirement that you be a Bible-thumper like me to come to the meetings. I hope you’ll give us a chance. Come to a few meetings, and if we’re not the right group, I’ll help you find one that is. Deal?”
She smiled. “Deal.”
“Of course, God is a part of this group. Without Him, none of us will really ever be as healthy as we would be with Him. And that’s true for everyone whether they’ve had a trauma in their life or not. We always start and end with a prayer. So let’s get started.”
Around the table, heads bowed and eyes closed.
Angelina closed hers as Cooper asked for God’s healing for each of them. She’d never thought about that before. Could God really do that? For her?
After an amen, Cooper lifted his head. “As I said before, we’re all here because there’s something in our life that’s not working for us.” Cooper looked at the group. “Some even to the point that it haunts us so much so that we can’t seem to get back into the swing of life.”
That certainly was true for her.
“Anyone want to share part of their—”
The door opened and a man walked in. A good-looking man. With a smile, he asked, “Is this where the support group meets?”
Cooper nodded. “You found it.”
“Sorry I’m late.” He held out his hand to Cooper and shook. “Stephen Smith.”
They went through the introductions again.
“We might as well go over our rules for the newcomers. Get yourself a cup of coffee, Stephen, before we start.” Cooper smiled and waved a hand toward a chair.
Stephen Smith poured himself a cup then sat down between Angelina and Cooper. He nodded at her with a smile and then looked at Cooper. “OK, let’s hear about these rules.”
“They’re simple. Number one, be respectful. Number two, be honest. Numb
er three, just like they say about Vegas, whatever happens here stays here.”
“Only three rules?” Stephen asked.
“I told you they were simple.”
Rosie picked up the cookies and passed them to Fred. “Well, they’re not as simple as they seem. For example, rule two says be honest, but that doesn’t mean you have to answer every question that gets thrown out. If your honest answer is that you don’t want to answer, that’s OK, too.”
Fred picked up a cookie. “And being honest with the group is a cakewalk compared to being honest with yourself. That’s the really hard part. At least it has been for me.”
Cooper scooted the round cookie container across the table toward Stephen. “Rosie’s right. Never feel you have to share more than you’re ready to share. But also know, sooner or later, you’ve got to get out of your comfort zone. Talking about your problem is part of moving forward. And moving forward is part of getting healthy. Getting healthy isn’t always easy and it takes a lot of baby steps to get there.”
Rosie nodded with enthusiasm. “It’s sort of like when I decided to lose weight and get healthy. My first goal was five pounds, and then another five. It wasn’t easy, but I lost fifty pounds because I was willing to take that first baby step and try something new.”
“And you look beautiful, Rosie,” Cooper said. “The new behaviors foster new thinking patterns, but the reverse is true also. New thinking patterns foster new behaviors. They work together. But the good thing is we don’t do it all at once. How do we do it, group?”
“Baby steps.” They called out at the same time.
That was exactly what Nate had told her, so there must be some truth in it.
“Exactly right. Baby steps. Like the old Chinese proverb that says a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. So, as long as you’re taking those baby steps, you’ll get to your destination eventually.”
Max smiled at her. “It’s like being in a time warp. It’s like our life is a clock and for whatever reason we get stuck in that one moment and can’t get out. We’re trapped. The clock stops moving. The baby steps start the clock ticking again.”
Cooper continued. “Saint Paul urges us to not look behind us but rather to move forward. Of course, that’s easier said than done.”
Sounded simple enough, but how was she supposed to do that? To move forward when all she could think about was Luther Marks and the things he’d done to her in his basement.
“Who wants to share some of their story with the newcomers?” Cooper reached for a cookie.
“I have this amazing wife and now we have a kid but…I can’t break old habits,” Fred started talking. “I really was stuck. When I was a kid, I made some bad choices. Got in trouble with the law. But I thought that was all behind me.” Fred fiddled with his pen for a moment. “Then we had our baby. And kids are so expensive. So I fell back to my old habit of looking for quick and easy ways to get rich. Take it from me; get-rich schemes don’t work, especially when you get caught. The judge gave me a second chance, and so did my wife. I’m here looking to break the old habits.”
“Thanks, Fred. How’s that going?”
He shrugged. “Still have my minimum wage job, but I keep looking for something better. But it’s not easy when you have a record.”
Max looked at her and then at Stephen. “Afghanistan happened to me. And I do have the official PTSD diagnosis, so you’re not alone, Angelina. Along with depression.” He shrugged and then smiled. “When I came back I moved into my parents’ basement and wouldn’t leave. They finally had to kick me out and tell me to go find a life. So I’m trying.”
That sounded like her in Keren and Peter’s guest bedroom.
“Max claims he’s a writer but we’ve yet to read any of his work.” Cooper grinned at Max.
Her pulse ramped up. A writer? A writer would probably love to get the inside story of her abduction.
“That’s because I’m still in the learning stage. One of these days I’ll bring something in for y’all to read.”
“That’s what you say every time, Max.” Rosie took her turn. “I’m a victim…No. I’m a survivor of domestic abuse. You name it and my ex-husband did it to me. I won’t lie. It’s still difficult for me to talk about, but it’s even more difficult to believe I was that stupid to tolerate his abuse. And for so many years.”
“You weren’t stupid, Rosie. And you didn’t tolerate anything. You left.” Cooper kept his voice soft but firm. His gaze flicked to Angelina. “That’s part of rule one. No name calling. Especially about ourselves.”
“Yeah, but it took a lot longer than it should have.” Rosie shook her head. “I still have trouble believing just what I tolerated.”
“Things take as long as they take. Real life isn’t on a timeline.” Cooper smiled at Rosie, and then looked back at her. “In a way if we’ve had a trauma in our life, we probably have a form of PTSD. And that means we probably keep reliving the incident over and over. That’s the getting trapped part that Fred talked about.”
“It’s not just thinking about it.” Max’s fingers tapped on the table as he talked. “But you actually relive it. You can smell it, hear the noises. Practically reach out and touch the guy next to you.”
He was so right about that. She could still hear Luther’s footsteps and feel his breathing on her neck. Not to mention the stabbing pain when he’d poked her with one of his knives. In the dark.
She hadn’t slept in the dark since then.
“The thing is, you’ve got to find a way to make the clock start ticking again so you can move out of that moment. Until you do that, you can’t move forward. Can’t get healthy.” Cooper’s smile encompassed the whole group. The man smiled a lot, but he was good at putting people at ease.
Rosie reached for the second plastic container she’d brought with her. “Anyone want another cookie?” she asked as she opened it. She handed the container to Fred.
He took it. “Rosie believes that cookies will help in any situation.” He took two cookies and passed the container to Max. “I’m starting to believe she might be right. At least about her cookies.”
“So, how do you move forward?” Stephen asked.
She was relieved he’d asked the question. She was afraid to speak up. It seemed like an impossible task to move forward. It had been months ago, but it still felt as if it had happened yesterday. Fear ruled her life.
“There’s no one right way to do it. I’m still in the process of figuring that one out, too.” Rosie took a deep breath. “Time helps. But it’s bizarre. Anything can send me right back to my ex-husband. Even a word. Then I feel my panic rising. Knowing I’ll get hit any moment. Or worse.”
Max leaned around Stephen so he could see her. “Don’t let whatever happened to you in the past steal your future from you. I almost let that happen. In my parents’ basement. Good thing they got tired of me, or I’d still be there.”
It was the same thing Nate had told her. They were both right. That’s exactly what she’d been doing. Letting Luther Marks steal her future. Her peace. Her joy. Her life. She wanted to start her clock ticking again. She was so tired of being in that basement with Luther.
“And just so you and Stephen know, there’s no pressure to tell your story. You’ll know when the time is right.” Cooper told them.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Stephen spoke up. He spent the next fifteen minutes telling how he’d been robbed at gunpoint and now he couldn’t sleep. And since he couldn’t sleep it was beginning to affect his job. His doctor had told him about this meeting so he was giving it a try. When he finished Stephen looked at Angelina. “What about you? What brought you here?”
“This is her first night as well.” Cooper touched her arm. “No pressure. Do you want to talk about it, Angelina?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.” Not ever.
“Any other suggestions to help Angelina and Stephen get started with breaking that cycle of reliving the traumatic event?”
“Makes sense,” Angelina replied.
“Get out of your comfort zone. Do completely new things. Go to new places, eat new foods. Force yourself to enjoy life. Make new memories.” Fred told them. “Even if it kills you.”
“Well, not if it kills you, Fred. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” Rosie nodded her agreement. “But it is important to stay busy. But not busy for busyness’s sake. Do something that is important. Something that will make the world a better place.”
That was the way Angelina had been raised. Both her parents had drummed that philosophy into her. They’d told her over and over, ‘With great blessings come great responsibilities.’
Of course, she hadn’t done that. Instead, she’d partied and made herself the center of attention. But that would change. She was done with that life. She wanted to help other people—in some small way.
Rosie pointed at her cookies that were almost gone. “I know it sounds corny, but I believe God created each of us to do good things for other people. I bake not just for these guys, but I take cookies and cupcakes to a different nursing home in the area every week.”
“That sounded depressing,” Stephen said.
“It’s not at all depressing. The residents love getting some company along with a home-made cookie. I make their day a little brighter and that makes me a bit happier.”
Cooper nodded. “Rosie’s absolutely right. Thinking about someone other than yourself will do wonders. And volunteering is a great way to do that.”
Dr. Markley had encouraged her to do that, too. She just wasn’t sure how to get started. Now that she was back in Mt. Pleasant, there might not be a lot of opportunities.
“So, we always like to take a minute to share how our week went. A victory and a struggle. That way the struggle can become a new goal for you. And the victory celebrates our baby steps of success.” Cooper looked at the group. “Who wants to go first?”