Bringing Rosie Home. Loree Lough

tell her that Rena hated the stuff, that she’d only pretended to like his mom’s recipe to spare her feelings.

      “Call you soon as I know more.”

      “Tell Rena I send my love.”

      “I will,” he said, hanging up as he closed the space between him and Rena.

      Using her thumb, she marked her page in the magazine. “How’s your mom?”

      “She’s good. Excited to see Rosie. Told me to give you her love.”

      Nodding, Rena smiled. Not enough to light up those amazing green eyes, but it sure beat the unhappiness that had been there before.

      “How ’bout you stay with the bags while I scrounge up something for us to eat. Those puny bags of peanuts they serve on the plane won’t tide us over until breakfast.” He grinned. “Mom suggested tuna for you...”

      Rena wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather make do with the peanuts.”

      He pointed. “There’s a sandwich shop. You okay with a cheeseburgers and fries?”

      “Sure. That’ll work.”

      “What do you want to drink?”

      “Surprise me.”

      She looked so vulnerable in the harsh glare of the overhead lights. It made him want to sit down, wrap her in a comforting hug and remind her what he’d said earlier...that everything would be all right. Because the truth was, he needed the reassurance, too.

      Ten minutes later, as they buckled up on the plane, their fingers touched. Hers were cold and trembly, but he resisted the urge to warm them between his own.

      “Tell me again what Agent Gonzalez said about Rosie’s checkup?”

      She’d crossed both arms over her chest, freeing the armrest for him. Why did she have to be so thoughtful? Didn’t she realize how tough she was making it to stay mad at her?

      Grant took a deep breath, summoning patience. “He said she’s fine, physically. Not a scratch on her. And no evidence at all of...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “...you know.”

      She exhaled a shaky sigh.

      “The psychologist said it’s too soon to tell if there’s any emotional damage.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But since Rosie wouldn’t talk much about this Barbara person...”

      “I liked it better when she didn’t have a name. It made it easier to hate her.”

      It seemed to Grant that Rena was thinking out loud, so he continued with the information Gonzalez had provided: after interviewing Barbara Smith’s family and friends, the police had discovered that she’d lost her own child, a girl, when a drunk driver barreled into her car, head-on. According to her sister, Barbara had nearly lost her mind, and isolated herself from her extended family. They'd heard through one of her neighbors that she'd adopted a child—referred to only as Ruby—but the rift had remained. Since Barbara had stubbornly continued to reject attempts at reconciliation, the family had never met the child. If not for the aneurism, Grant and Rena would likely never have seen Rosie again.

      “I hope the foster family is nice. She’s already been through so much.”

      Grant only nodded. This wasn’t the time or place to point out that if not for her negligence...

      “Did the agent know what this...this woman told Rosie? To keep her from calling attention to herself, I mean?”

      “She told her that you two went to college together, that you were the best of friends, that we’d asked her to be Rosie’s guardian in case something happened to us.”

      Rena gasped. “No...”

      He shook his head. “’Fraid so. She told Rosie we were killed in a horrible accident on I-95, and since she was named in our will as the legal guardian...”

      “And Rosie believed her. Oh, the poor little thing!” She hid her face behind her hands. “How did she explain that I was right there beside her at that field trip, not in a car on the interstate?”

      “She wasn’t old enough to question it.”

      “But she asked questions. I’m sure of it. Lots of questions. Remember how we used to laugh at how she could turn any situation, no matter how mundane, into a Q and A session?”

      Yes, he remembered, and the image of her upturned, animated little face, eyes wide as she peppered them with things like “Why do dogs’ claws stick out but cats’ don’t?” and “How does the sun know when it’s morning?” nearly brought tears to his eyes.

      Rena turned slightly in her seat and looked into his eyes. “Did the agent say anything about photographs? Maybe I’ll recognize Barbara. Maybe—”

      “Even if you did, there’s not much we could do with the information now.”

      Shoulders drooping, she sat back.

      “Let’s keep a good thought, okay? Focus on the fact that Gonzalez said Rosie left him with the impression that she’s a well-adjusted kid.”

      “That’s ridiculous. She learned to do and say whatever that crazy woman wanted.” Fingertips pressed to her temples, Rena groaned quietly. “And isn’t it the irony of ironies that, in her little-girl mind, she lost both of her parents and her...and this Barbara person in the span of a few years!” She pounded a fist on the armrest. “It’s a good thing she’s dead because I swear, I’d strangle her.”

      “Yeah, well, you’d have to get in line behind me.”

      The man in the window seat cleared his throat. Loudly. No doubt the whole thing sounded like a TV crime drama to him.

      Grant and Rena exchanged an oops look, and for a moment or two, sat silently, staring at their tray tables.

      “Small consolation, I know,” he whispered, “but they have a child psychiatrist—or psychologist, I forget what type Dr. Robson is—on stand-by. I’m sure she’ll explain everything.”

      “And have plenty of suggestions about how we’ll need to, for lack of a better word, handle Rosie once we get her home.”

      “Well, small consolation at this point, but Gonzalez said he had a good feeling about this case.”

      Eyes closed, Rena leaned her head against the seatback. “You know the old saying...”

      Grant thought he knew what she’d say. “‘From his lips to God’s ears’?”

      “Exactly,” she agreed, her voice a barely audible whisper.

      Something his mom had said a few weeks ago came to mind. “You’re not the only one who’s suffering, you know. Rena has been torturing herself with guilt.”

      That’s how I’d feel if I’d put some other kid’s welfare ahead of Rosie’s.

      Grant ground his molars together. Thoughts like that could only make matters worse. The coming weeks and months would be tough enough; reverting to his former surly behavior would make things unbearable.

      * * *

      “LEE HAS RESCHEDULED all my client meetings,” Grant said as he steered their grey rental sedan out of the airport lot. “I told her, ‘indefinitely.’”

      “And I cleared things with my boss. She assured me I’ll still have a job...if I come back.”

      If? Grant shrugged. They hadn’t exactly had a chance to discuss the long-term. He already knew guarding his heart wouldn’t be easy once they started living as man and wife again. How long could he keep it up?

      Rena sat quietly, staring out the passenger window for several minutes, then said, “I know you’re still angry with me. I don’t blame you because I’m still angry with myself, and I realize I don’t deserve your understanding and