by Loree Lough
He went to her, took the hand in his and inspected the cut. “Did I make you do that?”
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
So he had caused it. Grant hadn’t thought it possible to feel any worse about himself. He’d been wrong.
He grabbed a paper towel and stood at the sink to dampen it. “Doesn’t look too deep,” he said, wrapping it around the wound, “but if it doesn’t stop bleeding in a few minutes, I’ll call Mom, get her to stay with Rosie while I take you to the ER for stitches.”
“It’s fine,” she said, and tried to withdraw from his grasp.
But Grant held on.
“Did I thank you for supper?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
She looked up, big eyes scanning his face. To see if he had a mind to continue what he’d started this afternoon? The notion cut through him just as surely as that knife had sliced her finger. He relieved her of the blade, placed it on the cutting board and popped a cheese cube into his mouth.
“You said everything was delicious. I took that as a sort of thank-you.”
“Everything was delicious.” He grabbed another chunk of cheese and held it near her mouth. Instead of turning her head, as he’d expected, Rena parted her lips and let him feed it to her.
“Seemed like your mom had a good time,” she said around the cheddar.
“She did.”
“Rosie, too.”
“That gift certificate was a great idea. Mom’s right. I never would have thought to get her something like that.”
“You put in a lot of hours at the office, and I’m here all day. Plenty of chances to chat with her. She happened to mention a few weeks ago that she hadn’t been to the Hippodrome since it was remodeled.”
“Hmm. That was a long time ago...”
Small talk. They both hated it, yet here they stood, doing just that. Again. They’d been communicating really well until he blew her out of the water for not being a mind reader. You’re a self-centered idiot, he told himself. Rena loved Rosie at least as much as he did...
He peeled back the blood-soaked paper towel. “Looks like the bleeding has stopped.”
“Good. I hate the ER.”
Chuckling, he let go of her hand. “I’ll get you a bandage. Think you can stand the sting of peroxide?”
“I’ll try and be brave.”
He tossed the towel into the trash can and made his way to the powder room, found the box of Hello Kitty bandages she’d stored in the medicine cabinet, along with the antibiotic ointment and peroxide. Carrying all three to the kitchen, he thought of the last thing she’d said before he left the room: “I’ll try and be brave.”
Rena was the bravest person he’d ever met. The way she’d soldiered through those awful days right after the kidnapping, while he wrung his hands and sang woe-is-me... Yeah, he had a lot to make up for, all right.
“Here y’go,” he said, depositing the first-aid supplies on the island. He pulled out a stool, patted its seat. “Take a load off, lady. I have work to do.”
A faint smile lit her eyes as she did what he asked. A sign that his earlier outburst hadn’t pushed her too far? A guy can hope...
He grabbed a dishtowel and draped it across her lap. “To catch the peroxide,” he explained, unscrewing the cap. Rena winced slightly as he dribbled the liquid over the cut. After drying it with a fresh paper towel and applying some ointment, he wrapped the bandage around her finger.
“There. Almost good as new.”
She looked up at him again, sending his heart into overdrive with her sweet, sad smile. He held her gaze, searching for proof in those beautiful, long-lashed eyes that they would get through this.
“Good job, Dr. VanMeter. Thank you.”
“I don’t work for free, you know.”
Brows high on her forehead, Rena blinked. “I’m unemployed. Will you accept monthly payments?”
He cupped her chin and said, “It won’t cost much.” Then, gripping her upper arms, he put her on her feet. “Just this.”
Still holding tight to her arms, he pulled her near and kissed her. And much to his amazement, she closed her eyes returned it. Rena went a little limp, but Grant was more than happy to steady her.
A blissful moment passed before she sighed and tipped her head back. “I should put that cheese away before it dries out.”
“Let it. We’ll buy more,” he said, and kissed her again.
“This window faces your mother’s house, don’t forget...”
Grant looked up, saw the light in his mom’s kitchen glowing bright into the darkness. “I think she’s seen people kiss before,” he said, combing her hair with his fingers. “Besides, we’re married. Nothing wrong with a husband showing a little affection to his wife.”
Rena let out a surprised little gasp and he picked her up, not bothering to turn off the light or check to see if the doors were locked as he carried her toward the stairs.
She didn’t fight it at all. Instead, Rena rested her head against his shoulder, stroking his cheek, his forehead, his hair.
While trying to make the turn on the landing, he grunted quietly.
“Guess I shouldn’t have had cake and mousse,” she said apologetically.
“You’re light as a feather. I just didn’t want to wake Rosie by banging your head against the wall.”
A whispery laugh escaped her lips. “Gee. Your care and concern is so touchi—”
He silenced her with yet another kiss, then eased her onto the bed. “Man, you’re gorgeous in this light.”
Grant didn’t know what to make of that look on her face, but it gave him a flicker of hope that she didn’t hate him for treating her so poorly for so long.
He lay down beside her and pulled her close.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Today, earlier...” He pressed his lips to her temple, hoping to buy enough time to regain his composure. “I got scared, is all, and wasn’t thinking straight. There’s no excusing the way I spoke to you.”
“It’s okay, Grant. I get it.” She turned onto her side, lips touching his as she whispered, “Just don’t let it happen again.”
Her no-nonsense tone surprised him, but things were going too well between them to ask what she’d meant. Then Rena kissed him like she meant it, and Grant threw himself into the moment.
Suddenly, she stiffened and pushed away. “What’s that?”
He couldn’t hear anything over his own ragged breathing. “What?”
“It’s Rosie. I think...I think she’s crying!”
Rena was out of his arms and across the room before he could wrap his mind around her words. He followed her into the hall.
They found Rosie sitting up in bed, clutching Mr. Fuzzbottom to her chest.
“Aw, what’s wrong, sweetie?” Rena sat beside her, gently stroking bangs from her forehead. “Bad dream?”
“I hate her,” Rosie choked out.
Rena looked up at Grant, and in the dim glow of Rosie’s nightlight, he could see that she was worried. He was, too.
“I hate her and I’m glad she’s dead!” Rosie said, punching the mattress. “She took me away. Far, far away. We drove and drove. She lied to me, and when I cried because I thought you were dead, she said if you loved me, you wouldn’t have been driving so fast. But there wasn’t an accident. You were with me at the zoo.”
Her sobs subsided as Rena held her tight, rocking and chanting, “It’s all right. It’s okay.”
The very words she’d spoken to him last night. It didn’t surprise Grant that her soothing tone calmed their little girl. Rena had always had that touch with Rosie. And with him. All he had to do was think about those exquisite moments with her, and whatever had upset him, didn’t anymore.
Grant sat on Rosie’s other side, pressing kisses to her tear
-streaked cheeks. “Your mom’s right, kiddo. You’re home now. You’ll always be safe here with us.”
Sniffling, Rosie nodded.
“What happened to your finger?” she asked Rena.
She met his eyes over Rosie’s head and, smiling, said, “Oh, I wanted some cheese and had a little dustup with a kitchen knife. It’s just a tiny cut.”
The girl grabbed Rena’s wrist, brought the hand to her lips and kissed the bandage. “You used to do that every time I got hurt. You did it when I got the splinter, and that’s when I remembered. And when I knew Barbara lied about that, too. You did love me, didn’t you?”
“Loved you then, love you now. I’ll love you my whole life.”
There were tears in her voice. And truth be told, Grant felt a little choked up, himself. Rosie had just experienced an important breakthrough. But was this the end of it, or just the tip of the iceberg?
“I don’t want to call her my other mother ever again. And I really am glad she’s dead.”
Rena took a deep breath and met his eyes again. Gently stroking Rosie’s hair, she said, “I’m sure that’s how you feel now, but Dad and I want you to know that if you ever change your mind, it’s okay. Barbara did some bad things, but—”
“Some very bad things,” Grant put in.
“—but she took pretty good care of you, made sure you had plenty to eat and a safe place to sleep. I’m grateful for that.”
Nodding again, Rosie exhaled a huge sigh. “I guess. Still...”
Too soon to ask questions? Grant wondered. He tried to remember what Danes had said about that, and when nothing materialized, he said, “She never hit you, did she?”
“No.”
“Never locked you in a closet or anything, right?”
“Right.”
“And she didn’t put rocks in your socks?”
That inspired a quiet giggle. “No.”
“Then, like Mom said, if you change your mind about hating her...”
“But, Dad.” She started to cry again. “I missed you guys, and it was all her fault that we couldn’t be together!”
He almost said not as much as we missed you, but stopped. He didn’t want to inadvertently make her feel guilty for the pain he and Rena had endured. Danes had cautioned them about that possibility, though Grant didn’t agree with much the doctor had to say, that was one warning he’d been careful to heed since they reunited with their little girl.
“I’m so glad you guys aren’t really dead.”
Rena plucked a tissue from the box on the nightstand. “We’re pretty happy about that, too.” After gently blotting her eyes, she held it to their daughter’s nose. “Blow,” she said, and Rosie did.
Such a simple gesture, yet one so maternal and tender that Grant’s heart thudded with love for her.
“Can I ask you a question, Mom?” She leaned into Rena’s side.
“Sure, honey. Anything.”
“Were you really friends with her in college?”
“No, sweetie. I’d never even heard of her until a few days before we brought you home.”
“Hmpf. So she lied about that, too.” She punched the mattress again. “I thought only kids told big fat lies.”
“Grown-ups tell them sometimes,” Grant said. He caught Rena’s gaze. “And sometimes, they say really stupid things, too. Things they don’t mean. Things that hurt the people they love more than anything in the world.”
Rosie looked up at him. “But not you. Or Mom. Right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Grant replied. “Even us.”
“But only once in a while,” Rena said, “and only when we’re under a lot of stress.”
Rosie’s brow furrowed as she thought about that. “What kind of stress?”
Rena bit her lower lip, and Grant jumped in with, “The kind that happens when you’re scared, or mad, or confused. Sometimes it makes you do or say things without thinking first.”
“Oh.” She hugged the bear a little tighter. “Are you mad at Mom?”
“No, sweetie.” Grant reached past her and grasped Rena’s hand. “I’m not mad at Mom.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “She might be mad at me, though.”
“Really?” Rosie faced Rena. “What did he do?”
Rena’s quiet laugh was as soothing as soft rain on the roof. Grant held his breath, wondering what amazing insight she’d share with their girl.
“He didn’t turn off the kitchen light. Didn’t lock the back door, either.”
Eyes on Grant again, Rosie said, “Well?” She made a shooing motion with her free hand. “Hop to it, mister!”
“Women. You all stick together, don’t you?” he teased.
On his way to the bedroom door, Grant felt relief flood through him. Rosie might have a ways to go yet, and certainly had more to reveal about her life in Chicago, but she’d be okay. She’ll really be okay!
And Rena... He visualized the way her face had flushed earlier, the way she’d melted into his arms...
Grinning like a happy fool, he turned and clapped once. “So! Who’s in the mood for popcorn and hot chocolate?”
Chapter Nineteen
ROSIE WAS OUT of bed and beside him in a flash. “I’ll have some!” Facing Rena, she said, “Coming, Mom?”
“In a minute. I’m a little chilly so I think I’ll grab my robe.”
She watched them descend the stairs, hand in hand, chatting all the way. Hard to believe that just moments ago, Rosie had sobbed and bared her soul. Part of her soul, anyway.
Rena entered the closet, reached for her white, knee-length terry robe.
Was the outburst proof that Rosie’s healing process had only barely begun? Or had the crying jag cleared her system? It wasn’t normal, was it, that she’d said so little about Barbara or her time in Chicago? Of course it isn’t, she thought, slipping into the robe. She made a mental note to ask Dr. Danes about it at their next session. Or maybe, instead, she should call Martha. It had been months since they’d talked. She could bring her old therapist up to date, then ask for her professional input and spare herself looking like a nincompoop in Danes's eyes.
What would her former doctor say about the way things were going with Grant? Rena tried to see it from a psychologist’s point of view: Get some perspective, Rena. Look at the situation from all angles. Make a list of pros and cons. Good things and bad...
She stepped into a pair of backless slippers and hurried downstairs. Upon entering the kitchen, she saw Rosie and Grant, side by side in front of the microwave, hands on knees as they watched the popcorn bag inflate. Item number one for the pro side of the list, she thought, smiling: He’s great with kids.
The steady pop of kernels filled the kitchen with the scent of salt and butter, and when the timer dinged, they both straightened and shouted “It’s about time!”
Item number two: He’s not afraid to act like a kid.
“While you fill the bowls, I’ll warm up some milk for the hot chocolate.”
“Oooh, that’s a pretty robe, Mom.” Rosie turned to Grant. “Doesn’t Mom look pretty?”
He shot Rena the slanted smile that had caught her eye so many years ago. “Yeah, she’s pretty all right.”
Was she imagining things, or did he look...off? “You feeling all right, Grant?”
“Yeah, why?” He drove a hand through his hair.
Rosie studied his face. “Your face is all shiny.”
Grant grabbed a paper towel and blotted his forehead. “Maybe I was standing too close to the microwave.”
Hands on hips, Rosie said, “Even I know that a microwave is only hot on the inside, Dad.”
He looked at Rena, eyebrows and shoulders up. He expected her to come to his rescue, but she wasn’t sure she could. For one thing, his eyes were glassy and his lips were pale.
“Have a s
eat,” she told him, pulling out a chair. “I’ll get the hot chocolate.” She grabbed a mixing bowl and dumped the popcorn into it. “There y’go. Dig in!”
He rested both elbows on the table and held his head in his hands.
“Headache?” she asked, pouring milk into a saucepan.
“The mother of all headaches. Hit me from out of the blue. Weird, because I never get headaches.”
Rena pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re a little warm.” In fact, he was burning up, but she didn’t want to alarm Rosie. She opened the cabinet beside the sink, shook two ibuprofen tablets into her palm, then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “Take these,” she said, “and drink that water.”
“All of it?”
“Every drop.”
“But I’m fine. Just tired. All I need is a good night’s sleep.”
Rena mixed cocoa with sugar and vanilla and stirred it into the milk. “Whipped cream on top?” she asked Rosie.
“No, just plain, please,” she said around a yawn.
Well no wonder. It’s 12:45.
Rena filled two mugs with the lukewarm mixture. “Drink up—it’s way past your bedtime. Both of you.”
A minute later, the popcorn bowl was still full and so were the mugs.
“All right, you two. Upstairs and into bed.” Hands on Rosie’s shoulders, she said, “You first, missy. I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in.”
On the way to the door, Rosie paused. “’Night, Dad. Happy dreams, and I hope you feel better in the morning.”
He sent her a weak smile. “You, too, kiddo. And don’t worry. I will.”
Rena waited until she heard Rosie’s door click shut, then got the thermometer from the powder room medicine cabinet.
“Open,” she said, holding it near Grant’s mouth.
“I don’t need that.” He waved it away. “I told you. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Rosie, but you have a fever. We need to see just how high it is.”
“It’ll be normal, you’ll see.”
