“Great!” Craig says with a thumbs-up before his face turns serious again. “Has your mom talked to you about the social worker?”

I shake my head.

He sighs. “It’s probably another thing she doesn’t want to think about, but you have to meet with a social worker. She’s doing a home visit tomorrow, just to make sure everything is okay here. And also, I don’t know how you feel about this, but maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea for you to talk to a therapist. Is that something you’d like?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. No shock that my only experience with therapists is from TV. “What would we talk about?”

“Anything you’d like. Same as with the social worker. I know this has been a lot for you and, I really hate to use this word, but you are a victim. You were kidnapped.”

“By my own dad,” I clarify. I know people always hear the word “kidnap” and have these horrible visions. Rightfully so. But that’s not what happened with me. “I really liked living with him. Plus, I didn’t know anything was wrong. At all.”

Craig nods thoughtfully. “I know. But this is a lot for anybody to handle. You have to reconcile a great deal about your past and your father. I’ve got to be honest: when we heard you were found, I didn’t know what to think. I’d been living with this idea of you for so long I almost didn’t believe you were real. But here you are.”

No surprise that I hadn’t spent any time thinking about how this all affected Craig. “I’m sorry.” Will I ever be able to apologize enough to them?

Although it would be nice if someone here would apologize to me, or at least acknowledge how unfair all this has been. Or not pretend that the past fifteen years didn’t exist for me. And they were good years.

“Oh, Ally, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Again, Craig gets it! “This has been hanging around Paula since I’ve known her. Even when Sarah was born—which was the happiest day of my life—there was a sadness in Paula. I’ve known about you for years, while you’re just finding out about me and Sarah and, well, your mother. So as far as I’m concerned, you’re handling everything really well. Your mom doesn’t think you need therapy. She’d be mad at me for even mentioning it. She really wants to get on with our lives, but I know this is going to be an adjustment for you. A tough one. So anything you need, you can come to me.”

“Thanks, Craig. Really.”

I weigh the idea of a therapist in my head. Do I really need to talk or think about what happened to me any more than I already do?