Bringing Rosie Home

by Loree Lough

  As Rena carried the soiled washcloths to the laundry room, Grant fell into step beside her. “You’re unflappable,” he said. “Didn’t know what to do, seeing her all panic-stricken. Guess the sages were right.”

  “About?”

  “About the magic of a mother’s love.”

  Magic, indeed. She may have pulled off unflappable on the outside, but inside, she’d been a shaky mess. “Her reaction worried me. Definitely something to run past Dr. Danes.”

  “Yeah. Maybe,” he said, following her back to the kitchen. “So much for her being in a funk. The kid seems right as rain now.”

  “Maybe.” She was tempted to press the issue, but this was hardly the time to delve into the reasons Rosie had overreacted.

  “Is the grill ready?”

  “Should be.” He grabbed the plates of hot dogs and burgers, and shouldered his way onto the deck. “These will be ready in fifteen minutes. Need more time than that?”

  Her mom stood at the door. “Never fear, Grant, Rena has everything well in hand, as usual. We’ll be ready when you are.”

  Either he didn’t pick up on her mother’s tone, or he chose not to react to it.

  “Rena is a dynamo,” he agreed. “I spend half my life in awe of her talents.”

  When he winked at her, Rena’s pulse pounded.

  “I’ll get started setting the table,” Linda said, as Rena returned to the fridge for the salads and condiments. “And by the way, you’re not seriously thinking about ordering pizza later. Your father and I will be up all night with heartburn!”

  Rena repeated what she’d told Grant earlier. “Maybe you can help me make homemade cocoa.”

  Moments later, as they stood side by side, distributing plates and flatware, her mother leaned in close.

  “Are you all right, honey?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Oh. Right. I forgot. We’re supposed to have our talk later, after everyone else has gone to bed.”

  Rena was definitely not looking forward to it.

  “I’m starving to death!” Rosie said, running onto the deck. “When do we eat?”

  “Starving!” Grant echoed. “You ate a huge breakfast. And brownies!” He mussed her bangs. “Everything will be ready in a few minutes. How about if you go inside and wash up.”

  She held up her thumb. “But my bandage! If it gets wet, it’ll fall off!”

  “Then your mom will get you another one.” He looked at Rena. “We have more, right?”

  “A whole box.”

  “But...is it Hello Kitty, like this one?”

  “Exactly like that one.”

  “Good.” With that, she raced inside, letting the screen door bang shut behind her.

  “See? She’s fine,” Grant said.

  Rena’s parents exchanged an inquiring look. And Grant winked at her. Again. Rena went back in to get the drinks, relieved to have something to do.

  Because right now, it seemed that Rosie was the only one of them not acting strangely.

  Chapter Twelve

  TINA AND LINDA took turns pushing their grandkids on the swings. Grant and Rena’s siblings and their spouses, sipping iced tea and lemonade, chatted quietly on the deck. The awkwardness with Rena’s parents earlier in the weekend seemed to have passed, and Grant was enjoying seeing them all together. He’d forgotten just how good it could feel.

  Kent stepped up beside him at the grill.

  “You never want to mash them like that. Squeezes out all the juice.”

  Nothing like a backseat griller, Grant thought. He grabbed the long-handled tongs and moved the hot dogs to the top rack.

  “Mind if I ask you a sorta personal question?”

  “Depends on the question, I guess.”

  “How are things going? Between you and my girl, I mean.”

  Rena had continued to sleep in the master bedroom since the night they'd returned home with Rosie. Did she draw as much comfort from it as he did? Or was she still just going through the motions for their daughter's sake? “Don’t worry,” she’d said, hours before they arrived, when he'd asked what her parents knew about their arrangement. “I've kept things vague. I don't want to rehash all the reasons we split up in the first place, and why we aren’t really...well...together now.”

  He didn't want to rehash any of that, either—at least, not with the Reynolds. Truthfully, though, he hoped the sleeping arrangements wouldn’t be temporary. Grant had missed the companionship aspect of their marriage as much as the romantic side.

  It had surprised him, hearing that she hadn’t given them a blow-by-blow of the things he’d said and done to prompt the separation.

  He closed the grill’s lid. “Why do you ask, Kent?”

  The man’s gaze traveled into the yard, where Rosie and her cousins squealed happily. “Oh, nothing in particular. Rena looks fine, but...” He shrugged. “It’s like she has something on her mind. Something big.”

  “I’m sure she does.” Grant downed a gulp of iced tea. “Getting Rosie back was big. Real big. And she’s on a mission to clear every closet and drawer of unused items. The charity truck will be here any day to pick the stuff up, so she has this self-imposed deadline to meet.”

  “Ah-ha.”

  Kent wasn’t buying it, and frankly, Grant couldn’t blame him. For the most part, Rena behaved like the woman he’d married, easygoing and happy. Once in a while, though, he caught her staring absentmindedly into space, looking sad and lost and...lonely. One day, he’d muster the courage to ask her about that. For now, he preferred to leave things as they were. Why risk hearing that she missed her cottage at the beach, or wished they hadn't decided to share the master bedroom?

  “So I take it Rosie’s doctor thinks she’s doing well?”

  “She has a ways to go yet, but he’s pleased with her progress.” Grant closed the barbecue and took another gulp of his iced tea.

  “Does she say much about...the past few years?”

  “Not really. Trivial stuff like which books the woman read to her, how she baked cookies every weekend. At least we know there were a few normal moments.” Grant rattled the ice in his glass. “The doctor says to be patient, not to rush her into talking about things, that she’ll talk when she’s ready.”

  Kent harrumphed. “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard. Get it out in the open, I say, and deal with it.”

  “That’s what I said. Rena agrees with Danes, that we should let nature take its course.” He frowned at the drink. “Who am I to argue? I don’t have a wig-picking degree.”

  Kent shrugged. “Seems to me, though, that you should have more control over things. You’re Rosie’s father. And I’m sure this Danes guy is charging top dollar to spout his so-called expert opinion.”

  “I have no problem with his fees. It’s the lack of headway that’s driving me nuts. Every week, it’s the same old thing—‘Be patient. Things will happen in their own good time. Don’t rock the boat.’”

  “But Rosie seems well-adjusted and happy, for the most part,” Kent mused.

  “‘Seems’ and ‘is’...long distance between ’em.”

  Kent shook his head. “I can’t begin to imagine what all this has been like for you and Rena. In your shoes...”

  His voice trailed off, and he stood quietly, watching his grandchildren romp in the yard. “In your shoes,” he continued, “I’d want to ring that woman’s neck.” He started down the steps leading into the yard. “Better check those hot dogs, son.”

  The back door opened, startling him. Rena stepped up beside him and placed a pot of baked beans on the side burner to the right of the grill then stacked two plates on the stainless prep counter on the left side.

  “One for the hot dogs,” she said, “one for the hamburgers.”

  Grant made note of her guarded smile. “You’
ve always been great at anticipating the needs of others.” And it was true. Rena was generous to a fault, and honest as the day was long. If she had to choose between her own needs and someone else’s, she’d take a back seat.

  He hadn’t intended to stare, but found it hard not to. She looked lovely, cheeks flushed from the day’s warmth and excitement about the family get-together. Eyes wide and unblinking, she took two deliberate steps away from him.

  “I’ll be right back with cheese slices.” A nervous laugh punctuated the announcement. “And I have to bring out the potato salad and coleslaw.”

  What was going on with her? Grant didn’t like seeing Rena uncomfortable. Especially not in her own home. Especially when his behavior was no doubt part of the reason. He thought he’d been hospitable.

  He’d ask her, but he’d have to wait until the family left to get into it with Rena. Between now and then, Grant intended to find a way to let her know he wanted her here, and not just because of Rosie. Every time those old memories rose up, reminding him how she'd looked the other way, he clamped down on them, hard. He hadn't allowed himself to consider the possibility that what happened at the zoo could just as easily have happened to him at the grocery store or the library. But lately, watching her with their daughter...

  He followed her gaze, to where Rosie, her cousins and grandparents batted a pink ball back and forth. From the corner of his eye, though, he could see every inch of Rena, from the pale yellow sundress to her strappy white sandals. A thick braid hung over one shoulder, just as it had the first day of their honeymoon, when they’d taken an early-morning walk on Ocean City’s boardwalk.

  That day, Rena had stopped dead in her tracks and kicked off her shoes, eyes on the waves that gently lapped the shore. Sandal straps dangling from her fingertips, she’d raced down the rough-hewn wooden steps, facing him when her feet hit the sand. “Let’s hunt for seashells!” she’d said. When he’d pointed out that she had nothing to carry them in, she’d grabbed his hand and kissed each fingertip. “That’s why God gave you big, strong hands!” she’d whispered, right before planting a kiss on his lips. And even now, remembering it, Grant’s pulse quickened.

  Rena had been so fun and flirty, a playful and passionate partner...until Rosie went missing.

  That wasn’t entirely true. She’d grieved their girl’s disappearance, but made a conscious effort not to appear sad—which he knew had been solely for his benefit. He’d often heard her, sobbing when she thought no one was around.

  All of a sudden, he realized she’d been staring at him as if he’d grown a third eye. How much of the beautiful memory of Ocean City—or the darker one, of her lonely sobs—had shown on his face? Grant cleared his throat and faced the grill. “Need a hand carrying anything else outside?”

  “I, um, I just need to grab the ice bucket and the lemonade...”

  Why the hesitation? Had she been remembering the past, too?

  With that, she let the screen door drift shut behind her.

  Facing the yard, he hollered, “Hey, you guys! Get washed up. We’re eating in five minutes!”

  Every family member hustled toward the deck.

  Kent and Rosie held hands. “Thank goodness,” Rena’s father said, “My stomach has been grumbling for an hour.”

  “Mine, too,” Rosie chimed in before making a mad dash inside.

  Linda hung back.

  “Everything okay?” Grant asked her.

  “I heard some of the kids asking Rosie what it was like. Being kidnapped. Living with a stranger. Being kept from you and Rena for so long...”

  Grant’s heart lurched. He hadn’t thought to prepare her for something like that. Hopefully, Rena—being Rena—had anticipated that need and filled it. It was another thing he’d need to talk to her about later.

  “What did Rosie say?”

  “She changed the subject. Each and every time. It threw the kids off, and they stopped asking questions. But I saw her face. She looked so confused. And like...like it hurt to remember what happened.” Linda stamped one foot. “I declare, if that woman wasn’t already dead...”

  “I hear ya. Rena and I feel the same way.”

  Linda looked over her shoulder and, assured that everyone else was still inside, said, “It’s just... It’s easy to see that Rosie is going to be all right.” She bit her lower lip, something Rena did, too, when put on the spot. “I realize she has a long way to go, but...” She bit her lip again. “It’s Rena I’m worried about. She seems fine on the surface, but I can’t help but wonder how you’re both handling the reconciliation.”

  “We’re doing fine.”

  “I only ask because I want Rena to be happy. She’s been so unhappy for so long.”

  “She’ll be fine. And having Rosie back is a big part of that.”

  Linda didn’t look convinced. “I hope you’re right. I want both of you, and Rosie, to be happy.”

  Grant pretended to busy himself adjusting the plates on the table.

  “I want you to know that Rena did her best to put on a good show in the past couple years. Of moving on and accepting things—Rosie’s disappearance and the separation.”

  Grant only nodded. It would have surprised him to hear Rena had cried on their shoulders. She was the strongest person he knew.

  “But she couldn’t fool us. She was miserable.”

  Any minute now, the family would gather around the table.

  “Speaking of Rena, I wonder if she needs a hand with anything,” Grant said awkwardly.

  Just then, she stepped onto the deck, carrying the lemonade pitcher and tumblers on a napkin-covered tray.

  Relieved, Grant took the tray from her. “Let me get that for you, angel.”

  It was what he’d always called her, practically since they’d met. It must have been longer than he realized since he'd used the term of endearment. Why else had her mouth formed a perfect O as she blinked and averted her eyes?

  Dinner chatter was companionable, due in large part to the kids’ nonstop questions. Why did people’s hair turn gray when they became grandparents? What explained old people’s need for reading glasses? How had Rena learned to make lemonade? And his favorite, from Rosie: Who taught Grant to sizzle up the burgers without burning them, like her other mother always did?

  At the mention of Barbara, the family all but went silent. He saw the way Linda immediately looked at Rena. And the way she smiled and said, “Practice makes perfect, Rosie. Dad burned a burger or two before he mastered the grill.”

  Gotta hand it to her, Grant thought as Rena added a dollop of potato salad to her plate and, smiling serenely, topped it off with a few shakes of pepper.

  “What’s for dessert?” her brother’s youngest boy wanted to know.

  “Chocolate cake and two kinds of pie...apple and cherry,” Rena told Tim.

  “We never had dessert at my other mother’s house.”

  Again, an uncomfortable silence blanketed the table.

  “It won’t go to waste with this horde!” Grant said, breaking the ice. He speared a hot dog roll. “Besides, I love pie for breakfast. A little milk in the bowl, a minute in the microwave... Mmm-mmm-mmm. If there’s any left, that is.”

  “Milk on pie... I remember that!” Rosie said. “’Member when I used to sit on your lap and you’d share it with me?”

  The memory—and Rosie’s willingness to share—touched Grant.

  “How could I forget?” He gave her a gentle elbow poke. “You hogged up everything but the crust!”

  Her catsup grin widened. “Oh, yeah. I did, didn’t I?” Giggling, she said, “Sorry.”

  Linda, seated to Rosie’s right, leaned closer. “When do you start school, pretty girl?”

  Rosie looked to Rena for an answer.

  “We have an appointment Monday morning, to meet the principal and the guidance counselor.�
��

  “Not her teacher?”

  “First, we need to find out which class she’ll be in. She was homeschooled at...Barbara’s. So they’ll need to test her, since there are no records.”

  “Lucky duck,” Grant’s nephew, Billy, said. “You could do your schoolwork in your PJs if you wanted to. Bet you didn’t have homework, either.”

  Rosie’s smile vanished. “I never did schoolwork in my pajamas, and I had at least an hour of homework every night. On weekends, even.”

  Grant’s sister Anni aimed a stern glare at her son, who shrugged and took another bite of his cheeseburger.

  “My other mother said I was doing sixth and seventh grade work,” Rosie continued. “She said kids in public school don’t know half what I do.”

  “Why do you keep calling her your other mother?” Billy asked. “Aunt Rena is your mother. Your only mother.”

  “Now, now, Billy," Tina said, "how about we see what the rest of your cousins are doing in the sandbox?” She held a hand out to him, extended one to Rosie, too. “Want to come with us, sweetie? ”

  Rosie sent a grateful smile her grandmother's way and shook her head. They hadn't gone ten feet before her eyes glimmered with tears.

  Seeing her in pain hurt Grant so much that he felt tears in his own eyes. He felt angry, too, at Billy for the ill-timed, thoughtless question. Yeah, he knew Billy was just a kid, but that didn't change the fact that he'd hurt Rosie! Grant was angry at himself, too, for not anticipating what might happen.

  He looked at Rosie, doing her level best to rein in her emotions. But he saw that trembling lower lip and remembered it had always preceded a full-out sob session. If he didn't do something fast, Rosie would become the center of attention, and the only person who hated that more than his daughter was his wife.

  Grant scooped her up and started walking toward the swing set.

  “You owe me a ride on the seesaw. Time to pay up, kiddo.”

  He gave her a big squeeze before placing her on the seat. When she looked up at him through tear-spiked lashes, Grant thought his heart might explode with love.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” she whispered past a wavering smile. “Guess I shouldn't have called Barbara—”