every year, but they’d had a lot of foster kids since her. Going to their house, she’d have felt like a ghost from Christmases past, chains rattling.
Say something.
“Was I horse crazy?” was what popped out.
It was that easy. A question now and again, and she heard all about her childhood. Listening was surreal. Her life sounded like something out of a storybook, as if nothing had ever gone wrong, nobody had ever argued and Hope had mostly gotten her heart’s desires, including a “princess” bed.
No wonder I was in shock, she thought. Maybe...maybe she had quit believing in that perfect childhood. It must have seemed as unreal as Disneyland. A phantasm. Maybe, to survive, she’d had to quit believing.
She noticed that Kirk didn’t say much. About all he did was murmur agreement when his wife said, Do you remember when...? Those steady blue eyes stayed on Bailey. Seth had told her Kirk was quiet, but she began to suspect he was more sensitive to her mood and discomfort than Karen was.
Finally, he laid his hand over Karen’s to prevent another spate of reminiscences. Although she looked startled, she also closed her mouth. He cleared his throat. “There’s so much we don’t know, Bailey. Can you tell us what happened?”
As if the air had been sucked out of the room, she suddenly couldn’t breathe. It took everything she had not to leap up and say, “I’ve got to go.” But years of therapy paid for by the state of California had brought her to a point where she knew to breathe deeply and clear her mind before she did or said anything. Be calm. You don’t have to do this.
She shook her head. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Oh, but—”
Once again, Kirk’s big hand gently stopped his wife’s outburst. Bailey found herself staring at that hand. It filled her vision to the point where she didn’t see their faces. Why a hand? That hand? Don’t know.
“Detective Chandler said you spent years in foster care,” he said.
Not the best part of her life, either, but this she could talk about. She wrenched her gaze from Kirk’s hand.
“Six years. I didn’t know how old I was, so we guessed. I aged out of the foster care system when we thought I was eighteen. As it turns out, I’d have been only seventeen.”
Pain showed on a face rough-hewn enough to almost be homely. “Did you have a good home?” he asked.
“I...actually was moved several times.” More like seven or eight times, but who was counting? “I was pretty traumatized at first. I hardly spoke at all. He... I was way behind in school.” Yep, eleven years old and she had kindergarten under her belt. “Of course they had no idea what was wrong initially. They put me in special ed classes, but I picked things up so fast, I was back in regular classrooms after about a year. I must have already been reading pretty well when—you know.”
Tears in her eyes, Karen nodded. “You were reading at a second-grade level after kindergarten.”
Bailey nodded. “I kept reading. Books, when I could get my hands on them, or newspapers or just about anything. And I watched TV, so I knew about politics and crime—”
Both flinched.
“Not a clue about multiplication tables,” she said lightly. She hadn’t had a clue about so many things. “I’d never had a chance to use a computer.” She shrugged. “But, like I said, I adapted fast. The first few years were hard, though.”
“But...you’d been rescued from so much worse,” Karen faltered.
How do you know? Bailey thought resentfully, but caught herself. The fact she’d just admitted to receiving no education in those missing years must have given them a hint. Of course he hadn’t dared put her in school, even aside from the fact that he couldn’t produce the identification or records any school district would have demanded. Never mind the fact he kept them on the move. She’d didn’t remember ever staying in the same place more than a couple of months.
She tried to think how to explain how fish-out-of-water she’d felt after he left her.
“Any reality gets so it’s almost comfortable. The new reality was so extremely different—I didn’t fit. I didn’t know how to relate to people.” Not as if she was an expert at that, even now. “I withdrew, and a lot of foster parents didn’t know how to deal with that, even if they were well-meaning.” Seeing their faces, she said hastily, “I had some nice ones along the way, though. I lived with the same family my last three years. They’re...good people. I’ve stayed in touch.”
“Oh.” Karen dabbed at her wet cheeks with her cloth napkin. “I’d love to be able to thank them.”
“I...maybe I can introduce you sometime.” Weird thought. Weirder was realizing that once the press conference happened, the Neales would read all about her history, just as everyone else she knew would. Maybe she should call them before that happened.
Your life will never be the same. Hearing Seth’s voice, she felt panic swell in her, stealing her breath again. Everyone would know. Casual friends, fellow students, employers. Her face would become famous.
It already is.
The Lawsons were both staring at her in alarm, and she wondered what she’d given away.
“Um, have you told anyone else about me?”
“Yes, of course. I called your grandma and grandpa Peters, and your grandma Lawson.” Karen looked momentarily sad. “Your grandfather Lawson died two years ago of a stroke. I wish he could have lived to see this day. And, well, I called my sister, and Kirk’s brother, and some friends. I’m sure Eve has told people. She was so excited.”
Sure she was.
But what boggled Bailey’s mind was the number of people who already knew.
“You don’t think any of them would have called a reporter, do you?” she asked anxiously.
“I can’t imagine,” Karen exclaimed, looking shocked. “Why would they?”
“Because my reappearance is news? Big news, and they might enjoy the attention?”
“But that’s...that’s...” She stopped, either unable to describe what that was or because understanding was finally dawning. “You’ve surely told people, too,” she said at last.
Bailey shook her head. “Nobody.”
“Not even friends?”
“No. I...wasn’t sure I believed it.”
“That you’re our Hope.”
“Yes.”
“Do you now?” Kirk asked, eyes keen on her face.
Bailey tried to smile. “It’s hard not to. I mean, look at us.”
He glanced at Karen’s face and back to Bailey. “Nobody could mistake
