Bringing Rosie Home

by Loree Lough

  “If you’re finished now, can we talk?”

  Rena tensed and put down her pen. “Sure.”

  “Did Rosie seem...different earlier? When she was asking all those questions about the life expectancy of fireflies, I mean.”

  “Yes, now that you mention it, she did seem preoccupied by it. I thought at the time that maybe she was identifying with them, trapped in a jar. Maybe that’s how she felt after Barbara took her...trapped in that woman’s house, trapped in a life she didn’t want.”

  One brow rose on his forehead. “Whew. That’s deep. That never occurred to me, but y’know, that might explain things.”

  “Like her bedtime prayer? I nearly cried.”

  Rena replayed the scene in her mind: Rosie, eyes shut tight, tiny hands folded against her chest, asking God to bless her grandparents and parents, “...and the fireflies, too, because they’re very pretty and when they light up, they make people happy.” She’d paused long enough to make Rena and Grant think her next word would be Amen. Instead, Rosie had added one last line: “I’m sorry I caught them. Dad says they don’t live very long, so making them spend any time in the jar wasn’t very nice. I promise never ever to do it, ever again.”

  “She’s some kid, all right,” Grant said.

  “I don’t deserve her.” Instantly, Rena regretted the words. She considered self-pity one of the most useless human emotions and hated that she’d surrendered to it. How often had she gone down that road? Wondering how life could have been if Rosie hadn't been taken. She and Grant would never have separated. And who knows? They might have another child by now if...

  “That’s nonsense. You’re a good mother. One dumb mistake doesn’t change that.”

  He hadn’t always felt this way, and she had the mental scars to prove it.

  But Rena had to admit, from the moment she’d pulled into the driveway that first evening, he’d been doing his best to make her feel welcome. The fact that she didn’t was on her.

  Grant stifled a yawn. “Don’t know about you, but the idea of hitting the hay sounds mighty inviting.”

  She was tired, too, and climbing into bed did sound good.

  Standing, Rena turned on the light above the stove. “Just in case Rosie wants a drink of water or something.”

  “I saw you do that on her first night here, and thought it was a good idea then, too.”

  “Do you think she tiptoes down here alone at night?”

  Grant gave her a half smile. “Nah. One thing that hasn't changed...she still sleeps like a rock.”

  Side by side, they entered the hall and climbed the stairs.

  “Watch the third step from the top,” Grant said. “It squeaks loud enough to wake the dead.”

  Funny, but in the weeks since she’d come home, Rena hadn’t noticed that.

  “If you put your weight near the railing, it doesn’t make a sound.”

  Spoken like a man who’d spent a lot of time alone in this house, she thought. Although why he'd found it necessary to maintain quiet, she couldn't say.

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She stood at the sink nearest the master bathroom door to brush her teeth.

  “Cute,” he said, using his toothbrush as a pointer. “I don’t remember seeing those PJs before.”

  Rena had almost forgotten about the ruffle-hemmed shorts and matching sleeveless top, and thought it best not to mention that she’d bought them the day before he called to tell her they'd found Rosie.

  He met her eyes in the mirror. “I’ve always liked you in that color.”

  “That’s the main reason half my clothes are coral.”

  He stopped brushing. “Really?”

  Did he know how adorable he looked, mouth all foamy and hair askew?

  “Really.”

  Rena didn’t know what to make of his slanting grin, but she recognized the gleam in those blue eyes.

  “Do you think Mom and Dad were comfortable on that mattress?”

  “I’ve never slept on it. But it cost a small fortune, so they should have been.” Again, Grant met her eyes in the mirror. “You don’t like it?”

  She’d slept in the guest room for months before leaving for Fenwick Island. “It’s fine. Good, actually. It’s just that with Dad’s back issues and Mom’s bad knees...”

  Their knuckles grazed when they hung their toothbrushes in the ceramic holder.

  “Your hands are cold as ice.”

  And his were warm, so warm she yearned to have them wrapped around hers.

  “Guess it’s true what they say...cold hands, warm heart.”

  Now really. How did he expect her to react to that? Was it a prelude to an invitation to stay in the master bedroom? Good grief, I hope not! She wasn’t ready for that step. And considering all they’d gone through—together and apart—she didn’t think Grant was, either.

  Grant padded into the bedroom and she heard the rustle of covers, the telltale squeal when he climbed into bed.

  “You did a great job today.”

  Rena leaned into the vanity and, eyes closed, said, “Yeah, the salads were pretty good if I do say so, myself. And you cooked the burgers and dogs to perfection.”

  “I’m not talking about the food. You were great with the family. With Rosie, too. Especially with Rosie.”

  She stepped into the doorway. “Yeah, well, you were the one who offered up all the scientific data about lightning bugs.”

  Moonlight slanted through the blinds, providing just enough light for her to see his slow, easy smile.

  “I had no idea adult fireflies didn’t need food.”

  He rolled onto his back. Fingers linked behind his head, he closed his eyes. She’d always loved his profile, strong and manly and wholly handsome. It seemed unfair that nature had graced him with long, lush eyelashes when it took three strokes of a mascara wand for her to get the same effect.

  With no warning, he tossed the covers aside and got out of bed, crossed the room toward the bathroom. As he stood near her, Grant swallowed, and the adorable dimple appeared in his cheek. Once upon a time, she’d teased him by pressing her finger to it...right before kissing the spot. Rena resisted the urge to do it now.

  He took a half step forward. “G’night, Rena,” he sighed into her ear.

  And then he kissed her. Not the kind of slow, searching, passionate kiss he’d treated her to before the kidnapping, but a sweet, chaste peck that left her wanting more. So much more.

  For an instant, Rena thought he might kiss her again. But he turned and quickly made his way back to the bed. “Don’t stay up too late. You put in a long, hard day.”

  Had he considered asking her to stay here, in what had been their room, instead of returning to the guest room? And if he had, what stopped him?

  His steady breaths told her he’d fallen asleep. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered. Almost as an afterthought, Rena added, “I love you, Grant.”

  “Love you, too,” he murmured.

  Talking in his sleep? Or had he meant it?

  Hands trembling, she turned out the bathroom light.

  Well, a gal can dream...

  Chapter Fourteen

  A WEEK LATER, the family gathered again at the VanMeters’. With all the lively conversation and jovial laughter, Rena couldn’t help but feel happy.

  Her brother Jake leaned around his two kids. “Pass the corn on the cob, will ya, Grant?”

  Rena watched as the platter made its way down the table, growing lighter, ear by ear, as it made its way to her oldest sibling.

  Her younger brother Stan, sitting directly across from Jake, raised a hand like a boy in school. “Can we get some butter down here?”

  Today, thanks to the threat of rain, they’d gathered around the dining room table. Long before the family’s arrival, she and Gran
t had stood at opposite ends, tugging to make room for two polished leaves. After putting the card table at one end and scrounging chairs from every room, they’d managed to accommodate all fourteen family members. And despite the elbow-to-elbow seating arrangement, she hadn’t heard a word of complaint.

  When the meal ended, Tina and Linda decided to take advantage of a break in the weather to take their grandkids—seven between them—to the playground at Sentinal Park. Grant’s sisters and Jake’s wife, Emma, volunteered to help clean up. Rena had never thought of her kitchen as small...until four women squeezed into it at the same time.

  Grant’s oldest sister took it upon herself to scrape the plates. “I’ve been dying to get you alone,” Anni said, bending over the trash can. “How are you guys doing? No need to sugarcoat things.”

  “There’s no need to sugarcoat anything,” Rena assured her. “We’re fine. All three of us.”

  One by one, each woman voiced her concerns. And one by one, Rena gave them upbeat, positive replies.

  “If you think we’re being nosy,” Tressia, the youngest sister, said, “just tell us to butt out.”

  “You aren’t being nosy. You love us—and we love all of you, too—so it’s natural that you’re a little apprehensive about the situation here since Rosie came home.” She met their eyes, each in turn. “You’ll just have to take me at my word—we’re doing all right.”

  Tressia rinsed a plate and put it into the dishwasher. “Has Rosie said anything about the woman who took her?”

  “Nothing important,” Rena said. They didn’t need to hear about the numerous “other mother” references since the last barbecue.

  “Are you guys thinking of private school?”

  “I have an appointment tomorrow, as a Sentinal.”

  “Oh, I hear all sorts of good things about that school,” Tressia said. “It’s one of the top elementary schools in Maryland.”

  Rena’s brother’s wife tucked a handful of spoons and forks into the machine. “Next time the bunch of us gets together,” Emma said, “you should use paper plates and plastic utensils.”

  “And deprive myself of this traditional women-in-the-kitchen scene?” Rena laughed. “No way!”

  “This is nice, isn’t it,” Anni said. “Reminds me of Sunday dinners at Grandma VanMeter's house. The men would turn on the TV and the kids went out to play while the women did the dishes.”

  “Yeah. Right. Great times. The men sat around like kings while their women behaved like servants,” Tressia put in. “Those were good times, all right!”

  The women laughed, and Rena was relieved by the change of topic.

  “What about you and Zach and Jake?” Emma asked her. “I don’t remember Jake talking much about big get-togethers at the grandparents’.”

  “There’s a good reason for that. Our grandparents all died young, so there really wasn’t any place to go.” Putting away the kettle she’d just dried, Rena said, “I think that’s why I love it so much when everyone is here at the same time.”

  “Grant loves it, too,” Anni added. “He told me years ago that nobody puts on a spread like you do.”

  It felt good, hearing that he’d shared flattering things about her with his family. Memory of his sleepy “I love you” flashed in her brain, and she blinked it away.

  “Your mom looks good,” Tressia said. “I’d love to know her anti-aging secret!”

  “Your mom looks good, too,” Emma pointed out. “Every time I see Tina, I’m tempted to ask what sort of facial cream she uses!”

  Even if she’d had something to contribute, Rena would have remained silent. Better that than say something that might turn their attention back to how well she and Grant were getting along since her return from Fenwick Island, or Rosie’s adjustment to being home.

  Tressia closed the dishwasher. “So tell me, Rena, did you own your place on Eastern Shore?”

  “No, I rented a small cottage. The woman next door owned it.” She needed to give Lilly a call, see how many bushels of vegetables her garden had produced so far this season.

  “Bet it was adorable.” Anni smiled. “You have such a knack for decorating.”

  “Jake told me once that when you started college, you wanted to be an interior designer,” Emma said. “And that your folks talked you into courses that promised a more stable career.”

  “True. And the same sort of pressure is why Grant decided to go into finance.” She sent Anni and Tressia a conspiratorial grin. “You knew he wanted to become an oceanographer, right?”

  “No, I didn’t!” Anni put a hand on her hip. “Now, how did he hide that from us?”

  “He told me that after watching Jaws a couple dozen times, he wanted to be Matt Hooper.”

  “Not Quint?” Tressia put in.

  “Nope, it was Dr. Hooper all the way.”

  “Well,” Anni observed, “if he was shorter...”

  Tressia laughed. “And wore little round glasses...”

  “You guys!” Emma said, joining their laughter. “Grant doesn’t look anything like...what’s-his-name!”

  Rena agreed. The actor was good-looking enough in a cute sort of way. But Grant? She sighed. Tall and broad-shouldered, Grant was downright handsome.

  “Look at those dreamy eyes,” Anni said. “I’ll bet a dollar she’s thinking about that gorgeous brother of ours.”

  Her sister-in-law sidled up to her. “So are things back to normal between you two, you know, the private man-and-wife stuff?”

  “Emma! What a question!”

  Rena only smiled, and Anni’s fingers formed the universal okay sign. “In other words, things are going swell.”

  “Swell,” Rena echoed, feigning annoyance. “Have you been watching sixties’ beach movies again?”

  Anni’s husband entered the kitchen. “Hey, what’s going in here?”

  “We’re talking about our husbands...”

  Hands up like a man under arrest, he flattened himself against the wall. “It’s getting late, and the alarm buzzes early. We were just wondering when you guys will serve dessert.”

  Anni pointed at the desserts lined up on the counter and handed him a knife. “Plates are in that cabinet, forks are in this drawer.”

  Andy rolled his eyes and Rena gave him a gentle shove. “Get back out there. We’ll pretend it’s 1960 and serve you. Girls,” she said, facing the women, “I believe you’ll find some poufy aprons in the buffet...”

  “Ha ha. Real funny,” Andy said, backing out of the room.

  When he was gone, Tressia glanced at the clock. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. We should pass out dessert and hit the road.”

  It had been a great day, filled with laughter and hugs, rousing family fun and good food. She loved these people. Loved spending time with them. Why, then, couldn’t she wait until they were all gone?

  Because they’d asked too many questions, questions that made her feel that they were judging her—for leaving Grant, for losing Rosie, for not having the answers they wanted.

  “I’ll bring the plates out,” Emma said. “Will one of you grab some forks and napkins?” She pulled Rena aside and lowered her voice. “When do you think the grandmothers will get back with the kids? We need to leave soon, too.”

  “I’d text Mom, but...” She pointed at the counter beside the toaster, where her mother had put her phone after breakfast. First thing in the morning, she’d need to search every room, looking for her mother’s wallet or pill container. Maybe she’d ask Rosie to help. Before Barbara came between them, she and Rena had been quite the team. Gardening, baking, shopping. Inseparable. How long before they regained that closeness? Would they ever get it back?

  “Don’t look so sad, Rena. Rosie will come around. You’ll see.”

  It surprised her, hearing that her feelings were so evident on her face.
r />   “I’m...I’m not sad.”

  Emma’s caring expression told Rena that her sister-in-law didn’t believe it. And no wonder, when she’d all but shouted the retort. How long after arriving home would Emma and Jake start talking about his pitiful sister and her pathetic mess of a life? Ten minutes after their kids were tucked in? Less?

  “Okay then, see you in a few.”

  A peek out the window a few minutes later confirmed Rena’s suspicions: Emma, lips mere inches from Jake’s ear, no doubt telling him that things weren’t picture-perfect in the VanMeter household.

  If she didn’t get outside, and fast, her brother would be the next one to inquire about her reunion with Grant, offering assurances that with time and patience, everything would return to normal. Just because the platitudes would be well-intentioned wouldn’t make them any easier to tolerate.

  * * *

  FROM THE CORNER of his eye, Grant saw a flash of movement near the shed. Something small, and black-and-white. He made his way to the back of the lot to check things out, hoping as he got closer that it wasn’t a skunk.

  “Hey, dude,” Jake said, “wait up.”

  Slowing his pace, he waited for Rena’s brother. Just minutes ago, Jake’s worried-looking wife had whispered into his ear. Grant didn’t know what might have happened in the kitchen to inspire the brief exchange, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

  “Where are you headed?” Jake asked.

  “Saw something duck under the shed.”

  “Probably a chipmunk. I saw one earlier, taking a leisurely hike on your woodpile.”

  Grant didn’t bother saying he’d never seen a black-and-white chipmunk, especially not one the size of a small dog.

  “So what’s up, Jake?”

  “Up?”

  “I saw you and Emma earlier, acting like you were swapping state secrets.”

  Jake shrugged. “Emma seems to think something’s on Rena’s mind. She was wondering if you two are...well...if you haven’t quite worked things out. Yet.” Jake shrugged. “Rena’s my sister, Grant. I want to see her happy. So if there’s something I can do to help—”