by Loree Lough
His hand was shaking as he leaned forward to accept it, sliding it into his shirt pocket without letting go of Rena’s hand. “Is there anything else?”
The doctor got to her feet and plucked a business card from the holder on her desk. “No, we’ve covered everything, I believe.” She gave the card to Grant, and this time he did let go of Rena.
“If you have any questions, feel free to call any time.”
“Are we...are we going to see Rosie now?” Rena asked, following her to the door.
“We are. My advice? Do what feels natural. If hugs and kisses seem in order, give them.”
“But...but how will we know?”
Robson stopped, laid a hand on Rena’s forearm and met her eyes. “From everything I’ve gathered from our little talk,” she said, smiling, “I’m confident that you’ll know.” She paused. “Would you like to see pictures of her?”
“What I’d like,” Rena said, “is to see my child.”
The doctor nodded. “Okay, I’ll go ahead and make sure everything is ready.” She gestured toward a bench in the hall. “You guys have a seat.”
Grant hesitated. “What do you mean, ‘get everything ready’?”
“Rosie has been with my assistant, who’s overseeing some artwork we asked her to do. Drawings provide us with a view into what’s going on in kids’ minds. They often say what they think we want to hear, but their pictures rarely lie.”
Rena sat on the bench and Grant followed. “And if there’s something disturbing in her pictures, then what?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t expect to find anything out of the ordinary. Look at it this way. Even if there are signs of trouble, at least you’ll have a heads-up—and so will the therapist you’ll take her to at home. Forewarned is forearmed, you know?”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Rena said as Grant nodded.
“You suppose?”
“We haven’t had time to talk to get a recommendation from her pediatrician.”
“No problem. I’ve compiled a list of specialists in your area and put them into the envelope with Barbara’s letter. They’re all people with the skills and experience to deal with children like Rosie.”
Children like Rosie, who’d been abducted and kept from their families for years...
“I’ll come back for you in a few minutes.”
The click-clack of her heels on the linoleum ended when the door to 1420 closed behind her.
Eyes squeezed shut Grant looked at the ceiling. “Do me a favor, will ya?”
“Sure. Of course. Anything,” she said, meaning it.
“If I start blubbering like a baby when I see her, whack me upside the head.”
“I won’t need to. You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. Not that crying would change that.”
He scanned her face, as if searching for evidence that she’d meant it.
“Most stubborn, you mean.”
What was he suggesting?
“I can’t stand this,” Rena burst out. “I want to see her. Right now.”
Grant rested his elbows on his thighs and held his head in his hands. “I know. I hate waiting.”
“I remember,” she said. If he’d said it once, he’d said it a hundred times in their years together.
Grant clasped and unclasped his hands in the space between his knees. It’s what he’d done in the ER when Rosie fell from the swing and broke her arm, and every other time he felt out of control.
She gave in to the urge to comfort him, and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “A very wise man once told me not to worry, because everything would be all right.”
Grant sat back. “Yeah, well...” He ran a hand through his hair. “Wonder what’s taking so long?”
As if on cue, the door at the end of the hall opened and Robson leaned out. “We’re ready for you.”
“Are you as nervous as I am?” Grant whispered as they stood.
“My stomach is in knots. All I want to do is give her the biggest hug ever. I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back.”
“Maybe we won’t have to make that decision. Maybe Rosie will hug us.”
They stood just outside the heavy wooden door. Grant grasped the knob. “Ready?”
Rena squared her shoulders. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
She followed him into a small waiting area between the entrance and another door. It was empty.
“Where did Robson disappear to?” Rena asked.
Grant didn’t reply but simply crossed the room in three long strides and opened the door to the playroom. Rena took her place beside him.
And there she was.
Our Rosie.
Grant squatted down to her height. “Hey there, kiddo,” he said.
Rosie looked at each of them in turn, and as her gaze settled on Grant’s face, a slow smile lit up her face. “You look just like your picture. Just like I remembered.”
Bending, Rena whispered, “Picture?”
“I emailed a couple photos of us,” he whispered back. “In case Agent Gonzalez or Dr. Robson needed them for anything.”
Rosie scrambled to her feet and, hands clasped at her waist, took a tentative step forward, and in that split-second, Rena wondered how much Rosie remembered from that day five years ago. Did she hate Rena for allowing another child's needs to distract her from her own little girl? How many times had Rosie thought about that moment? Was it the source of nightmares and day terrors? Had it scarred her forever?
Grant held out his arms, and Rosie ran to him. “Daddy, Daddy, oh, Daddy...”
Through her tears, Rena could see that Grant’s eyes were moist, too.
“Ah, my sweet Rosie-girl,” he said. For what seemed like a full five minutes, he held her tight and when he held her at arm's length, Rena saw that his tears had dampened the child's shoulder.
“Let me look at you.” Bracketing her face with big, strong hands, he stared into her eyes. “You’re a sight to behold, you know that? I’m so happy to see you!”
“I’m happy to see you, too!”
Rosie hadn't cast so much as a glance in Rena's direction.
And it broke her heart.
Rosie remembered. Did she hate her? Grant turned slightly, held out a hand to invite Rena closer. Kneeling beside him with arms extended, she waited, hoping her little girl would greet her as she’d greeted her dad.
“Go ahead, sweetie, give your mom a big hello hug.”
Oh, how it hurt that she only moved closer because of Grant’s gentle nudge! Rena wrapped her arms around her, willing herself to appreciate the momentary contact, to ignore the way Rosie stood, arms pressed tight to her sides, stiff as a statue.
Reminding herself it was only their first interaction, that Rosie had been through a lot and must be overwhelmed, Rena willed herself not to cry. Time, she decided, would heal any wounds her inattentiveness had caused her sweet daughter.
Time, and a major miracle...
Rena turned her loose, feigned a smile. Hands on the tiny shoulders, she said, “I missed you, sweet girl, missed you so much!”
The child’s blank stare shook her to the core, threatening her tenuous hold on self-control. Clearly, Rosie didn’t believe her. This was the stuff of nightmares.
Her only child hated her.
Rosie looked at Grant. “When are we going home?”
He straightened to his full height and Rosie grabbed his hand.
“Right now,” he answered, his defiant expression a warning to the doctor that she'd best not disagree.
Robson, who’d been watching from a few yards away, said nothing.
Rosie read the woman's silence as rejection of Grant's straightforward statement.
“Does that mean I have to go back to the Millers’ house?” Rosie asked, her voice rising.
“I don’t want to sleep there again. Their house is a mess and those other kids are loud. And that boy pushes everybody!”
Robson frowned, and Rena didn’t dare speak. One wrong word and the psychiatrist could decide to nix their plans.
Finally, Robson said, “We have a few more details to work out, papers to sign, things like that...”
“I don’t mind waiting while you do those things,” Rosie was quick to respond. “I’m really, really good at waiting. I’ll sit quietly and I won’t complain, I promise. Just please, please, please let me go with them today?”
The doctor hesitated yet again, and put her back to Rosie. “It isn’t protocol,” she told Grant and Rena, “but let me see what I can do.” Starting for the door, she added, “Will you two be all right here?”
Rena put a protective arm around Rosie. “Of course we will.” Again, she did her best to ignore the child’s rigid response to her touch. Somehow, since learning that her parents weren’t dead after all, she must have come up with her own conclusion: Her dad wasn't to blame for her mother's mistake.
“I shouldn’t be long,” Robson said, leaving them.
“So, Rosie,” Grant said, hands on knees, “how ’bout if you show Mom and me what you’ve been working on over there.”
Rosie took his hand, led him to the bright blue rug where she’d constructed her blocks castle. “This,” she said, “is where the king lives.”
Grant also sat cross-legged on the floor. “Yes, yes I see. That’s some castle you’ve made!”
Rena joined them, put a fingertip on the flat blue blocks that surrounded the building. “Is this the moat?”
“Mmm-hmm,” the girl muttered.
She’d had no difficulty making eye contact with Grant. If only she’d look at me, Rena thought, she’d see how much I love her! She set aside her hurt feelings and pressed on. “Which room is the king in?”
Pointing at a chunky, lopsided turret, she said, “He’s in there. That’s where the queen is, and the princess, too.” She met Rena’s eyes with a flat, unfeeling stare. “They never, ever leave their little girl alone because they know there are bad people on the other side of the moat, people who might take her far, far away.”
Was it her way of letting them know that life with Barbara hadn’t been the pretty picture she’d painted for Robson?
Rena made up her mind to do everything in her power to break through the icy wall between her and Rosie.
Rena sat back on her heels, watching as Grant and Rosie added a wing to the castle. An ugly thought surfaced: what if the only way to ensure Rosie’s well-being was to remove herself from the family circle?
Chapter Seven
“WHY CAN’T I sit up front, Dad?”
“Because it’s dangerous. And if a policeman saw you up here, I’d get a ticket. You have to be in your safety seat. It’s the law.”
“I think that’s a stupid law,” Rosie said, kicking the back of Rena’s seat. “These things are uncomfortable, and besides, kids get hurt all the time, sitting in them.”
“Well,” Rena said, doing her best to sound calm and in charge, “I’m sure it is uncomfortable, being belted into it, but until you’re older and taller, we’ll follow the rules. Dad and I want you to be safe because we love you more than life itself.”
Under her breath, Rosie said “Well, Dad does, anyway.” After a moment of silence she added, “I hate this seat!”
Rena stared out the passenger window at the blur of cars, pickups and semis that whizzed by on I-90. She couldn’t give in. She wouldn’t quit, no matter how difficult Rosie tried to make it. She was the grown-up, and she had to set aside her hurt feelings.
“Fortunately, you won’t be in it much longer. We’ll be at the hotel before you know it.”
The girl exhaled a loud sigh. “I’m hungry.”
“How ’bout pizza?” Grant asked.
“I love pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom!”
Rena typed “pizza near Hilton O’Hare” into her phone as Rosie kicked the back of her seat again.
“I’ll put in an order,” she said. “Remind me which street our hotel is on?” she said to Grant.
“You forget stuff a lot, don’t you?” Rosie asked.
Grant chanced a quick glance over his right shoulder. “Rosie, don’t talk to your mom that way, okay?”
“It’s all right,” Rena said. “It’s been a couple of long, harrowing days. She’s tired and afraid.”
“I am not afraid, ’cause my daddy will protect me.” Pausing, she added, “Won’t you, Daddy.”
“You know it. And so will your mom.”
Rena ignored Rosie’s loud sigh and dialed the pizza place. She had to give Grant points for sticking up for her. Since her arrival from Fenwick Island, he’d been accommodating, in an arm’s-length kind of way. Even that level of tolerance had to be difficult for the man who still blamed her for Rosie’s disappearance. Her mom liked to say “Count your blessings where they grow,” and for the first time, Rena understood it in a very personal way.
After placing their order, Rena disconnected. “It’ll be half an hour. Just long enough to give us time to settle in.”
“Did I used to like pepperoni and mushrooms on my pizza?” Rosie piped up from the back seat.
“You loved it,” Rena told her. “So much that if we didn’t keep a close eye on you, you’d pick all the toppings off our slices and put them on yours!”
“My other mom made her own pizzas. Sometimes she let me help knead the dough and spread the sauce on top.” She didn’t speak for a minute or two, and neither did they.
“You know what, Dad?”
“What...”
“I don’t remember what pepperoni and mushroom tastes like.”
“Then it’s a good thing your mom has a good memory, isn’t it.”
Rena didn’t need to turn around to know how Rosie had reacted to that. She pictured the slightly pursed lips and tucked-in corner of her mouth. She’d probably crossed both arms over her chest, too.
The little family remained quiet for the final minutes of the drive. In the hotel parking lot, as Grant hefted the small bag of clothes provided by the foster care system, Rena reached for Rosie’s hand and gently tugged her close. “People like that make me so mad,” she said, glaring at a speeding SUV. “What’s he thinking, driving so fast in a parking lot!”
Rosie’s stony expression didn’t soften, but at least she hadn’t jerked back her hand.
Rena noted the frayed sleeves of her daughter’s sweatshirt jacket. Loose threads caused one pocket to droop. And the cord in the hood was missing.
“First chance we get, we’ll go shopping, buy you all new clothes and shoes and—”
“Daddy,” Rosie said, letting go to grasp Grant’s hand, “can you take me, instead?”
“I don’t know the first thing about girls’ clothes.” While Rosie pushed the elevator’s Up button, he met Rena’s eyes. “Sorry,” he mouthed.
Rena answered with a helpless shrug as Rosie said, “Well, can you come with us?”
“I’d be bored. So bored, I’d fall asleep standing up.”
Rosie giggled. “Like a horse?”
Grant whinnied then tousled her hair. “Either that, or I’d end up snoring on the floor, and you and your mom would have to drag me out to the car.”
Grinning up at him, she said, “That won’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because! You’re way too big for us to drag anywhere. But...” She looked at Rena. “We wouldn’t leave him alone, not even for a minute, would we, Mom.”
She called me Mom! Heart hammering with relief, Rena pushed fearful thoughts and worries from her mind. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her in a fierce hug—and feel Rosie return it—but she resisted. All in good time, she told herself.
&n
bsp; The elevator doors hissed open, and the VanMeters stepped inside.
“My other mother didn’t like elevators, so we always took the stairs,” Rosie announced. “But I remember the time when I broke my arm.” She looked up at Grant. “Remember? When the doctor sent us upstairs for X-rays?”
“How could I forget! You scared the life out of me that day. If it hadn’t been for Mom’s quick thinking, who knows how long it would have taken me to pull myself together and drive us to the ER.”
Good one, Rena thought. But not good enough, as evidenced by the doubt on Rosie’s face.
They reached their floor, and Rosie followed close on Grant’s heels as he led the way down the hall. She stood so near his elbow as he pushed the keycard into its slot that Rena wondered how he’d managed to avoid poking her temple.
He flicked on the lights, and Rosie bounded into the room. “Ooh, a flat-screen TV! Which bed is mine?”
“It’s up to you,” Rena said. While they ate pizza, she’d think of a reason to sleep on the cot.
Rosie chose the bed nearest the window.
“Let me turn down the covers for you,” Rena said. “Even in a nice hotel like this one, you can’t be sure how long it’s been since they last washed the bedding.”
Rosie’s shoulders slumped. “Dad, tell me she’s not always this picky.”
“Mom isn’t being picky. She’s just looking out for you. Because she loves you.”
Rosie met Rena’s eyes, her expression saying what words needn’t: Yeah? So where were you when my other mother took me away?
“How about a quick shower while we’re waiting for the pizza?” Rena suggested. “Then you can get into your PJs and slide under the covers and watch some TV while you eat, all warm and snuggly.”
“Snuggly? I’m not a baby, you know. And anyways, I took a shower at the Millers’ this morning.” She pointed at the folded-up cot near the door. “What’s that thing for?”
