Bringing Rosie Home. Loree Lough
And he’d never admit it, but Grant enjoyed chick flicks almost as much as she did. And what about his fondness for puns? When she brought home a copy of How Weather Works to read with Rosie, he sat down beside them and said, “I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down.” And while replacing the doorknocker on the front door, he’d said, “Bet you didn’t know that the guy who invented this contraption got a no-bell prize...”
The memories should have lifted her spirits. Instead, they woke a deep sadness. Rena hung her head. In the blink of an eye—literally—she’d lost their only child, and the man Grant used to be.
She’d missed him. Missed him during those many difficult months after Rosie was taken. Missed him every day that she’d been gone. Missed him now, even though he was arm’s length away.
“Why so quiet?” he wanted to know.
Rena exhaled. “Just thinking.”
“Yeah, it’s a lot to take in.”
Reaching across the console, he patted her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “Stop worrying, Rena. We’ll get through it. We have to. Rosie’s counting on us.”
In other words, he’d make the ultimate sacrifice and put up with her...for Rosie’s sake. Oh, how she wished she knew how to make amends so he could see his way clear to forgiving her. How she wished she could get that life-changing moment back...
He maneuvered the car into a space at the airport’s Quick Park, and before she managed to gather her enormous purse and jacket, he’d opened the passenger door. In her hurry to exit the vehicle, she dropped the bag, spilling the contents onto the blacktop.
Squatting, she grabbed a ballpoint, a tube of lipstick, her compact. “Sorry,” she said, stuffing them back into the bag. “I need to remember to zip this stupid thing.”
What was truly stupid, she thought, were the tears that filled her eyes, just as they had in Rosie’s room. And, as he’d done earlier, Grant took a knee and helped her clean up the mess. He got to his feet and held out a hand. Rena hesitated, then let him help her up. His fingers, strong and warm, wrapped around hers, and for a moment, there under the streetlamp, he looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time since she’d left for Fenwick Island.
“You look bone-tired,” he said, shoving the envelope into her bag.
“Wow. Aren’t you good for a girl’s ego.”
One corner of his mouth lifted with the hint of a smile. “Didn’t mean it that way. You’re gorgeous, as always. Just...” His lips formed a taut line as he zipped the bag. “Maybe you can grab a quick nap during our flight.”
In all their months apart, she’d barely slept more than four hours a night. A nap, seated beside him on a crowded plane? Impossible. But as the airport shuttle rolled to a stop behind his car, Rena said, “Maybe.”
Grant slid their suitcases into the luggage rack, then took her elbow and guided her to the only empty seats, all the way in the back of the bus. Last time he’d done such a thing had been when they took Rosie to Disney World weeks before the abduction. Once they’d settled into their seats, he’d pulled Rosie into his lap and, grinning, pressed a kiss to her cheek. Pressed one to Rena’s, too. “Mickey Mouse, here we come!” Judging by the excitement in his voice and the delighted glint in his eyes, one might have thought the trip was for him, not their daughter.
A car pulled out in front of the shuttle, forcing the driver to slam on the brakes...and causing Rena to lose her balance. If Grant hadn’t wrapped a protective arm around her, she’d have ended up on the gritty black floor.
“Idiot,” the driver muttered, then quickly added, “Everybody okay?”
As a chorus of yeses filled the shuttle, Grant continued to hold her. It felt good. Felt right. In a perfect world, she could pretend his reaction meant he still cared for her. But their world hadn’t been perfect in years.
“Thanks. You saved me from skinned knees, or worse.”
Leaning back, he withdrew his arm. “No problem. I would have done it for anyone.”
Yes, he would. Rena’s heart ached a little that he’d felt it necessary to point that out.
“We’ll have some time to kill once we get to the gate,” he said. “Think I’ll call Mom, bring her up to speed on...everything.”
“Good idea. I know how she worries.” Rena looked toward the shuttle’s windshield and added, “How much does she know?”
“Pretty much what we do. That Rosie is in Chicago, and we’re going to bring her home.”
“Southwest,” the driver called, rising to help Grant with the suitcases. “Have a safe flight,” he said, pocketing the bills Grant had pressed into his hand.
Gripping both suitcase handles, Grant led the way into the terminal.
“Here y’go,” he said, handing her the printout of her boarding pass.
She thanked him. “Let me know how much I owe you.”
His eyebrows drew together and his lips formed a thin line. “For Pete’s sake, Rena, You don’t owe me anything. You’re still my wife, like it or not.”
In her mind, she’d always be his wife, even if he filed for divorce.
Side by side, they moved a step closer to the check-in kiosk.
“I just didn’t want to start out on the wrong foot,” she explained.
“You’re not.” His expression softened slightly. “I’m glad you’re here. Don’t know how I’d get through this alone.”
It was the first kind thing he’d said to her in years. Don’t get all moony-eyed. It doesn’t mean there’s hope for a real reconciliation.
He took her boarding pass, and as he poked at the choices on the screen, she thought: It doesn’t mean there isn’t, either.
“PLANE TAKES OFF in about an hour,” Grant said into the phone. “Just wanted you to know we’re on our way.”
“How does Rena look?” his mom asked. “I talk to her fairly often, but I haven’t seen her since the day she left.”
“She looks good.” He risked a glance over his shoulder to where she sat, flipping through one of the magazines she’d packed. Even from twenty feet away, he could see those long lashes, dusting her freckled cheeks.
“You’re being nice, I hope.”
“Mom. Come on. ’Course I am.” Nice as I can be, anyway, under the circumstances.
“Good. Because whether you admit it or not, what happened isn’t her fault. If I had a dollar for every time you got away from me when you were a boy—”
“You could buy us an order of French fries.”
Tina’s sigh filtered into his ear. Almost from the day he’d introduced them, his mom had thought of Rena as a daughter. Her moving to Fenwick Island hadn’t changed that. If anything, their bond had deepened, thanks to twice-weekly phone calls.
“Just promise me you’ll set aside your hatred and focus on all the good times you two shared before—”
“Mom, I don’t hate her!” he said, a tad louder than intended. Lowering his voice, he continued. “We’re getting along fine. I’m doing everything in my power to be civil.”
“Civil.” Tina sighed again. “That’s not good enough, Grant. She deserves better, and you know it.”
Okay, so Rena had been a good wife, and for the most part, a good mom, too. Not good enough to prevent the