Bringing Rosie Home. Loree Lough

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be?

      “Well, I’d better skedaddle.”

      How long since she’d heard him recite the phrase that had so often inspired good-natured teasing between them? Not once in the five years since Rosie vanished, like the smoke from a spent match. It told her that Grant had hope, real hope, for the first time since the kidnapping. His belief that they’d find her had been the second biggest issue between them next to the blame. The third biggest? Her dreams of having another baby. “Another child won’t replace Rosie. How can you just give up on her?” he’d demand. “What kind of mother just throws in the towel this way?”

      “Just so you know, I asked Mom not to come around for a few days, to give Rosie time to adjust to being back,” Grant said now.

      Rena clenched her jaw. “But Grant, your mother was always such a huge part of her life. Wouldn’t it seem strange to her if Tina didn’t stop by once we're...” She couldn’t bring herself to call it home. Not yet. “At least for a little while?”

      He didn’t reply right away, and Rena braced herself for his dismissal.

      “You’re right, I guess,” he said, surprising her. “I’ll give her a call. You think she should be at the house, waiting? Or stop by a couple of hours after we get home?”

      Who was this cordial man? In their last few months of living together, he hadn’t agreed with her on anything.

      “Later, maybe, to give Rosie a chance to look around, reacquaint herself with her surroundings.” And being with us.

      “Right. Right.”

      In the moment of silence that followed, she considered asking how the news had affected him. But she wasn’t quite ready to go there with him yet. For now, cordial felt like the safest course of action.

      “I’d better let you go. You still have your house keys?”

      “Yes...” But even if she didn’t, Rena could use the one she’d hidden in the ceramic frog lawn ornament near the front door. Unless a storm had blown it from the table, she was sure it would still be there.

      “Good. If I’m not there, let yourself in. Nothing has changed, so you won’t have any trouble finding things. Just make yourself at home.”

      “Thanks, Grant.”

      “That isn’t exactly true...that nothing has changed,” he continued. “Rosie’s room is different from when you last saw it.”

      “Oh?”

      “I found all her stuff in the attic, right where you put it, and thanks to those pictures you took for the insurance album, everything is back to the way it was before...”

      His voice trailed off, but she knew what he’d stopped himself from saying: Before you packed things up. Put our girl out of sight, out of mind.

      “I...ah... Drive safely, Rena,” he said, and hung up.

      She sat in Martha’s waiting room, still as a statue, as tears filled her eyes. By this time tomorrow, she’d get to hold her sweet daughter in her arms again. Rosie was alive. Rosie was alive!

      “Must have been some phone call,” her therapist said, poking her head out of her office.

      Rena knuckled her damp eyes. “It was Grant. He said...he said they...they found Rosie.”

      Martha walked over and sat beside her, sliding an arm across Rena’s shoulders.

      “Oh, Rena, that’s wonderful news!”

      “She’s in Chicago. I don’t know any of the details. Except that Rosie is talking to a child specialist right now, so that by the time we arrive, she’ll be somewhat prepared. We decided to present a united front. I’m moving back into the house to make the transition easier for her.”

      “Grant’s idea, or yours?”

      “His, but I agree.”

      Leaning back slightly, Martha said, “That’s a lot for him to ask, don’t you think, after the way he treated you?”

      “I’m not fooling myself. I know it won’t be easy, especially not at first, but I’ll do whatever it takes to help Rosie adjust to being home again. It’s the least I can do after...”

      Martha held up a hand, effectively silencing the self-deprecating comment that would follow. “How old is she now?”

      “She turned nine three weeks ago, on May 5.”

      “And she was three when she was taken?”

      “Almost four.”

      Martha pointed out that Rosie had no doubt changed a lot in all that time. “Are you ready for that?”

      “I haven’t really had time to wrap my mind around the news yet. But thankfully, I’ll have hours and hours to think about it.” During the drive to Ellicott City. On the plane to Chicago. And of course, tonight, after she retreated to the guest room...

      “I was heading home, but I can stay if you want to talk.”

      Rena got to her feet. “Thanks, but I need to get home and pack for the drive to Maryland.”

      Martha stood, too. “Things are happening fast. If you need me, just call.”

      Nodding, Rena dropped her phone into her purse and started for the exit. “Thanks,” she said. Martha wouldn’t hear from her again, but this wasn’t the time or place to discuss why. “That’s nice to know.”

      * * *

      GRANT HADN’T REALIZED how much he’d missed the sound of her voice. Even with the shock of hearing this news, Rena had been calm and quiet. One of the things he’d admired most about her had been her ability to maintain her composure, even during the most stressful moments.

      Like the time Rosie fell off the swing and broke her arm. He’d totally freaked out, but Rena had kept her cool and orchestrated a trip to the ER for X-rays, told jokes and made silly faces while the tech set the bone and wrapped Rosie’s arm in a cast. And the day he’d nearly electrocuted himself trying to add a circuit breaker to the electrical panel. He’d thought surely he’d bought a one-way ticket to heaven, but her soft, reassuring voice was all it had taken to make him believe he’d be fine.

      Fine. It was what she said when he’d asked how she was, and what he’d said when she returned the question. In truth, he’d only felt this frazzled on one other occasion: the day Rosie went missing.

      Because Rena had been paying more attention to somebody else’s kid than to their little girl.

      He felt a little crazy, waffling between loving her still and despising her for putting them in the middle of every parent’s worst nightmare.

      In all fairness, he hadn’t suffered that nightmare alone. Guilt had tormented Rena, turning her from a confident, lively young mother into a jumpy, sleep-deprived woman who burst into tears at the drop of a hat. And he hadn’t made things easier for her.

      But

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