by Loree Lough
Placing a forefinger over her lips, he shushed her. “Don't give it another thought. All you need to know is that Mom and I love you.” He winked. “And that you're in for one heckuva ride, so hold on tight!”
The instant his weight lifted her up, Rosie began giggling. He wanted this for her all the time. Because his girl deserved all the joy and ease life had to offer.
He made the decision then and there to help Rosie open up—about everything. Help her deal with the past so it would no longer be a forbidden, scary place. Would Rena agree? Or would she remind him that Dr. Danes had advised against it?
Lighten up, VanMeter. She’s doing her best.
But what if her best wasn’t good enough...for Rosie?
He’d been tough on Rena after the kidnapping, and hadn’t let up until she felt she had no choice but to leave him.
But the truth was, she’d had a choice.
And so had he.
And for Rosie's sake, they needed to acknowledge it.
* * *
THE FAMILY GATHERED in the driveway, exchanging goodbye hugs and promises to get together again soon.
“I’m so sorry, Rena,” Grant’s sister said, “for everything Billy said. I don’t know what got into him!”
“No harm done.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“He’s just a kid, and I’m sure he’s as confused about the whole situation as we are.”
Another thing to love about Rena: she hated seeing anyone uncomfortable and always gave the benefit of the doubt.
Once everyone left, Grant took Rosie’s hand. “Hey, kiddo, what's up? You feelin' okay?”
“I'm fine.”
But she wasn't. She’d been so jovial, so spirited before Billy blurted out his untimely questions. Grant couldn’t lay full blame at the boy’s feet—it was natural for kids to be curious. If he and Rena had talked to Rosie first, tried to help her prepare for such questions, they could have spared her today's upset.
“Did you get a chance to tell Grandma and Grandpa those knock-knock jokes you were practicing the other day?”
She smiled. But only a little. “Yeah, they laughed. Grandpa even told me some.”
What’s going on in her little head?
Rena sat with them. “I had a feeling a second dessert was a mistake,” she said, grinning as Rosie picked at her slice of pie.
“I’m sleepy,” Rosie said eventually. “May I take a shower and get into my pajamas?”
“Of course,” Rena said, rising. “Let me get everything ready for you.”
She met Rena’s eyes, studied her face for a moment before saying, “I’m not a baby.”
“I know that. I just love doing things for you.”
Rosie inhaled a deep breath, released it slowly. “Is there time to watch a movie before bed? Even though Grandma and Grandpa went to bed?”
“Sure. Why not,” Grant said. She’d had a long, busy day, and it wasn’t likely she’d last until the credits rolled, anyway.
Once she was out of earshot, Grant said, “You were right, Rena. She’s fragile. The splinter the other day, and now this. Doesn’t say much, but she’s thinking, always thinking.”
“Maybe it’s time that we stopped walking on eggshells around her,” Rena suggested. “And maybe, if she has something on her mind, it should come out.”
Grant could hardly believe his ears. “Well, that’s an about-face if ever I heard one.”
“Not really. It’s the way I’ve felt from the start.” She grimaced. “But Dr. Danes is the expert, and I'm the one who messed things up in the first place, so...”
“Don't talk that way. Danes doesn’t know everything. And he doesn’t know Rosie. We’re her parents. We’re with her every day. I say we wait for the next opening and jump through it with both feet.”
“I’m willing to try.”
“Just so I’m clear, you agree? That we should get her to open up about—”
“About everything.” Rena’s eyes gleamed with determination. “Including her feelings about me.”
You mean her feelings about how you stood by and let the kidnapping happen?
That wasn’t fair, and Grant knew it. Just because he felt that way, it didn’t mean Rosie did, too. He needed to take stock, make sure he didn’t let onto his own feelings when Rosie was around. Luckily, the harsh thoughts came less often these days. His fury had diminished, too. Grant didn’t know how he felt about that. Playing the blame game was what had kept him strong, saved him from calling her during those lonely, hurtful months they’d spent apart. As long as he could lay guilt for the kidnapping at Rena’s feet...
“Your dad asked if I thought we’d have more kids. Said something about a sister or brother helping Rosie adjust.”
She paled. “You’re joking.”
The question had surprised him, too. Now that Rosie was back, Grant had no idea how he felt about another child. Six months or so after their girl disappeared, Rena had brought up the idea of having a second baby. Each time, he’d said no. How did she feel about that now?
“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry he put you in that position.”
“He’s worried about you. So’s your mom. I suppose it’s a fair question, all things considered.”
Rena shook her head. “Still, it’s way too soon to even think about a step that big. Rosie isn’t out of the woods yet. And you and I...”
“We’ve had a lot to contend with. But as long as we stay focused on what’s best for Rosie, I think we’ll be okay.” Even in his own ears, the words sounded hollow, half true at best.
As much as they’d diminished—and Grant worked hard to suppress them—the accusations were always there, prickling at the edge of his consciousness. Those same feelings had motivated his gritty accusations years ago, literally sending Rena packing. He couldn’t afford to give in to them again, no matter how justified they might seem on the surface.
“Tomorrow, I’ll have a talk with Mom and Dad, make sure they know things are...that things are working so far.”
“No need for that. I get it. They love you and Rosie and want what’s best for both of you. In their place, I would have behaved the same way.”
Footsteps on the stairs cut their conversation short.
“I’m finished,” Rosie announced.
She looked so cute, standing there in bare feet, hair hanging in damp ringlets beside her face, the pink of her ruffle-hemmed nightgown reflecting onto her freckled cheeks. He wanted to scoop her up and hug her.
And so he did. Grant opened his mouth to tell her how much he loved her, how glad he was to have her home again, but before he got it out, she said, “Can we watch a movie now?”
Grant glanced at Rena to see if she still thought it was a good idea.
Her slow, sad smile took him back to those first days after Rosie had been taken, when his own pain and misery had prevented him from offering any consolation to Rena.
“Why don’t you to pick one while I make some popcorn and hot chocolate?”
“More food! No way!”
But Rosie didn't agree. “You can't see a movie without popcorn. Besides, if you're full, you don't have to eat any.”
“When you're right, you're right. But if you get a bellyache, don't come bellyachin' to me!”
Rosie followed him into the family room, where nothing but the island separated them from Rena.
Once Rosie settled beside him, Grant leaned close and whispered, “She’s doing her best to be a good mom, you know.”
One tiny shoulder went up, then down. “I guess.”
“And it won’t hurt you to be a little nicer to her.”
Her expression said, Yes, it will! She turned away, staring through the French doors, where the porch light illuminated the deck, fading as it spilled onto the lawn. Suddenly she per
ked up. “Look, Dad! Fireflies!”
Rena said, “There must be hundreds out there! When I was a kid, I loved catching them and watching them blink.”
“How’d you do it?” Rosie asked.
“Grandma poked holes in a jar lid,” she said, “and I collected a dozen or so and put them inside.”
“Can we do that? I’ll help with the holes!”
Rena took an old-fashioned can opener out of the utensil drawer. “This thing is sharp. And rusty. So it wouldn’t be safe. Right?”
Rosie nodded and joined her in the kitchen. “Can I go out in my pajamas?”
“I don’t see why not. But you’ll need to put on your slippers. Then we’ll find a jar.”
The girl dashed toward the steps, slowing only when Rena added, “Grab your robe while you’re upstairs. Just in case it’s chilly out there.”
She sent Grant an impish grin. “Okay, Mom. And thanks.”
Grant winked. His message had gotten through, loud and clear. This time, anyway.
“Now, how do I tell her she’s too young to stay up late enough to watch a movie after catching fireflies?” Rena asked.
“Don’t worry. She’ll understand. Because we’ll tell her together.”
Rosie skipped into the room a few moments later, pink robe flapping behind her like a superhero cape.
“Are the jars still in the cabinet under the china closet?”
Rena laughed quietly. “I can’t believe you remember that’s where I keep them!”
“I wasn’t a baby when Barbara took me, Mom. I was three. I remember a lot of stuff.”
Grant wondered if Rena was thinking the same thing he was: that Rosie remembered the trip to the petting zoo, too...
“Maybe one day,” Rena said softly, “you’ll tell Dad and me all about the things you remember.”
Rosie shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Grant would have sworn he heard another emotional door slam closed. And then Rosie said, “When I was with... When I was in Chicago, you were in a lot of my memories.”
Rena pressed a palm to her chest. Again, Grant believed he knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it, too: I hope they were mostly happy memories...
“Let’s get that jar,” Rena said.
Rosie ran ahead of her and began rummaging in the cabinet. “How’s this one?” she asked, holding up what had been a jelly glass.
“Perfect.”
“I’ll pound some air holes in the lid,” Grant offered.
They joined him at the counter, watching as he placed the lid on the wooden cutting board and used the can opener to pierce the metal.
“You guys go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
But when he stepped outside, only Rosie was in the backyard. They caught half a dozen fireflies together, and still no Rena.
“I’m going to see what’s keeping your mom. You okay all by yourself?”
“I won’t be by myself. There are thousands of fireflies out here with me!”
He found her in the dining room, crouched in front of the china closet. Its open doors exposed two shelves, one that held bread baskets and stacks of linen napkins, another that housed multicolored vases and an assortment of Mason jars. Kneeling beside her, he placed a hand on her back.
“You okay?”
“No. I’ll probably never be okay again. Not after what I did.” She paused. “Or, more accurately, what I didn’t do.”
“Rena. Hon. Don’t do this to yourself. All that’s in the past. Ancient history.”
“Why shouldn’t I? She remembers things, Grant. She remembers.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “How long before the psychological and emotional damage I’ve done rears its ugly head? She’ll probably be scarred for life because of me!”
During the years Rosie was gone, Grant had had similar thoughts. Right here, right now? He wished he could take back every ugly thing he’d said to her. He’d meant it when he told his father-in-law that he cared about Rena and wanted only good things for her.
“Our girl’s home now, safe and sound. And we’re gonna get through this. Together.”
She gripped his forearm with a strength that belied her size. “Be honest with me, Grant. Do you think when she finally lets it all out, she’ll hate me? Do you think she hates me now?”
He had no way of knowing what damage Rosie might suffer while dealing with the truth about her past. But he couldn’t stand seeing Rena this way, afraid and uncertain about the future.
“No. I don’t think she hates you, and I don’t think she ever will. She’s a tough little girl. Think about all she survived and overcame.” Lifting Rena’s chin on a bent forefinger, he forced her to meet his eyes. “She’s made of sturdy stuff, just like her mother.”
Eyes closed, Rena turned from his touch, pretended that tidying the jars was the reason.
“That was a sweet thing to say.” On her feet again, Rena added, “I know you only said it to make me feel better.” A small, slanted smile brightened her face. “Thanks, Grant.”
Together, they went back outside, where Rosie was giggling as she plucked the glowing bugs from the air.
“I haven’t seen her this happy since she got home,” he said quietly.
“I hope it lasts.” Rena tilted her head toward the inky sky and whispered, “Please let it last.”
“Look, Dad! Thirteen of ’em already!”
“Way to go, Rosie-girl. Way to go!”
“If you guys help, we could have twenty. Thirty, even!” And then she yawned.
“Let’s see if we can get to twenty,” Rena said, moving closer to Rosie. “We want to leave some for tomorrow night, and the night after that.”
Nodding, Rosie dropped another bug into its new home. “Guess this means no movie tonight, huh?”
“We’ll have plenty of movie nights, sweetie.”
She thought about that for a minute, then said, “Yeah, I guess,” and grabbed for another firefly.
“What will we feed ’em, Dad?”
“These are adults. At this age, they don’t really need to eat, but when they do, they’re a little like butterflies, and hang around flowers for the nectar.”
“I’ll put some grass in with them, to give them a soft place to sleep.”
With that, she ran into the yard, eager to provide the bugs with a comfy bed. For the moment, life at the VanMeter household seemed like any other. Hope it lasts, he thought, echoing Rena’s prayer. Please, let it last.
After Rosie had spent another ten minutes pushing the greens into the jar, Rena said, “We should let those fireflies go and head inside, sweetie. It’s getting late.”
Rosie frowned. “Can’t I bring them inside with me? They can be my nightlight.”
Rena and Grant exchanged a look.
Grant wanted to say yes to her, but he knew that being captured, even by tiny, gentle hands, then deposited into a glass prison, spelled certain death for the fireflies. He imagined Rosie waking up to find them lying still in the jar, drained of the light that had brought her so much joy tonight. He had to protect her from that. “The problem is they’re not getting enough air,” he told her.
“But...but you punched a lot of holes in the lid.”
“True, but the jar is slippery, and they have a hard time climbing up the sides to reach the lid, where their air supply is.”
She stared at her captives for a moment. “If I put it on its side...?”
“Well, that’ll make it a little easier for them to breathe...” He needed to try a different tack. “The thing is, fireflies don’t have a very long life expectancy. They’ll only live a few more days.” Fewer, if she kept them in the jar. But he didn’t want her to know that.
Rosie’s frown deepened. She was too young to look so concerned—about bugs or anything else.
“That isn’t fair,” she said.
“That’s just nature for ya, Rosie-girl.”
“But a bunch of grass in a jar isn’t nature,” Rosie said. She turned to Rena. “They’re going to die if I keep them in here, aren’t they, Mom?”
Rena hesitated before saying, “Eventually, yes.”
Rosie unscrewed the jar’s lid and, stepping onto the lush lawn, gave it a shake, liberating every bug. “They should be in their real home,” she said, as she watched them take flight. “It wouldn’t be right to keep them for myself.”
Grant swallowed against a surge of emotion. Pride in his little girl for coming to that conclusion all on her own. Anger and sadness for what had been done to her when she’d been as helpless as a bug in a jar.
Rena went to her, took her hand. “C’mon, sweetie. Let’s get your teeth brushed so you can go to bed.”
After placing the empty jar on the kitchen counter, Rosie looked at Grant. “Are you coming up, too, to hear my prayers?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Once Rosie fell asleep, he’d ask Rena what she thought about that moment, if she, too, suspected that the captured fireflies had reminded Rosie of what Barbara had done. If setting them free would help her heal...or if letting her capture them in the first place had done more harm than good.
Yes, he had a lot to discuss with Rena. If she didn’t go into hiding the way she had been the past couple of nights...
Chapter Thirteen
AN HOUR HAD passed when Grant joined her at the kitchen table.
“What’re you working on there?” he wanted to know.
“My to-do list for the next few days.”
“Thought you finished that yesterday.”
“I’m a horrible person. I only said that so my folks would go to bed last night and wouldn’t feel obligated to get up at the crack of dawn to help me.”
Grant laughed. She loved the vibrant, masculine sound of it and wished he’d laugh more often, the way he had before...
“You’re not a horrible person. I was relieved when they went upstairs, too.”
She drew a little heart in the margin of her notepad, colored it in and added ruffles to its edges, searching her mind for something she’d forgotten to add to the list.
