ONCE THE NECESSARY interviews and paperwork were complete, Agent Gonzalez handed Grant directions to the psychiatrist’s office. He took note of Rena's thin smile. It was what she'd always done when trying to hide displeasure. Wasn't his fault, was it, that the guy was more comfortable with him than Rena. She could just as easily have stayed in touch with the agent.
“Dr. Robson is better equipped to take care of a kid,” he said, walking them toward the building’s entrance, “so I suggested that she take your little girl over there. Who knows what sort of madness Rosie would see or hear if she hung around the station much longer.”
“We appreciate that,” Grant said, shaking the man’s hand.
“And we appreciate your patience and understanding,” Rena said. “We pretty much bombarded you with questions.”
“Happy to be of service.” The agent handed her a business card. “If you have any more questions, call me. Any time.” He grinned. “Can’t promise I’ll be much help, but I’ll do my level best. I’ll give Detective Campbell a call, get him caught up. He’ll probably want to talk with both of you once you’re settled in, you know, to dot any i’s and cross any t’s we might have missed.”
Grant pressed a palm to Rena’s lower back and guided her toward the parking lot.
“What time is your flight tomorrow?” Gonzalez asked.
“Noon. But we can change it if we need to.”
“Don’t worry. Dr. Robson is the best at what she does. She’ll have you out of there in plenty of time to grab a bite to eat and catch a few z’s tonight. Be sure to give yourself plenty of time in the morning, though. O’Hare is a zoo.”
When they reached the psychiatrist’s office, the woman at the reception desk smiled. “May I help you?”
“We’re the VanMeters,” Grant said, “here for our—”
“Yes, of course. The doctor is just wrapping up a session. May I get you anything while you wait? Coffee? Tea? Soda?”
“Water if you have it,” Rena said. “I'm dry as the Sahara.”
The woman reached into a small fridge behind the counter and withdrew two bright blue bottles. “There you go. Make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure Dr. Robson will be with you shortly.”
Grant and Rena sat stiff and quiet on the sofa nearest the reception counter. Seeing that Rena was having trouble opening the bottle, he took it from her and unscrewed the cap.
“Thanks,” she said when he handed it back. “And please don’t tell me I don’t need to say thank-you. It’s a habit. Ungrateful people quickly wear out their welcome, and that’s the last thing I want to do. Especially now.”
Her knee was bouncing out a quick rhythm. She was obviously feeling as keyed up as he was.
“Okay,” he began, “from now on I—”
The door beside the reception desk opened. A gaunt, bearded man exited the office, and close on his heels, a scowling boy of twelve or thirteen. Behind them, a middle-aged redhead said, “See you next week, all right?”
The man nodded and the boy said something unintelligible as they left.
“You must be the VanMeters,” the doctor said. She took a few steps closer and extended her right hand. “I’m Dr. Robson. Please, come right in.”
They sat in the overstuffed leather chairs facing her desk.
“I see Marcie got you something to drink.” She plopped onto the seat of a high-backed swivel chair and proceeded to page through a file. “Need anything else before we begin?”
“Thanks,” Grant said, “but we’d rather just get on with things.”
His abrupt tone caused the doctor’s right eyebrow to lift slightly. To soften the blow, Rena tacked on, “So we can see Rosie as soon as possible.”
“It’s been my experience that situations like these are extremely traumatizing for families. I understand you two are separated?”
“I don’t recall either of us mentioning that,” Rena said.
“Agent Gonzalez prepares me well for dealing with children like Rosie.”
“We’ve been living apart for a while,” Grant told her, “but we haven’t made the separation official.”
She nodded. “Well, what’s significant is that you’ve decided to partner up again for your daughter’s sake. I’m sure you realize the importance of setting aside whatever differences you might still have, at least until we get an accurate read on how Rosie is coping with everything. I found her to be a bright, perceptive child.”
Her way of reminding them that their little girl would sniff out a phony relationship in a heartbeat?
Dr. Robson patted the file. “Do you mind talking about the reasons for your separation?”
* * *
RENA LOOKED TO GRANT, mostly to get a read on how he preferred to proceed, but he stared straight ahead.
“Grant didn’t ask me to leave, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
The doctor remained silent. Waiting, watching.
“I guess if I boiled it down to one thing, guilt was the major motivator in my decision. My attitude and behavior spilled into our everyday lives and made us both pretty miserable.”
Robson focused on Grant. “Is that how you see things, too?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes,” he said, drawing out the word. “Guilt and blame go hand in hand. I wasn’t exactly easy to live with, either.”
“Is that your way of saying you blamed Rena for the kidnapping?”
Another shrug.
“You realize, of course,” Robson continued, “that what happened could have happened to anyone, even the most diligent parent.”
Knowing Grant, he probably felt a little like a butterfly, pinned to a mat. Tina had come right out and admitted she’d told him the same thing, many times.
“It’s the logical way to view the situation,” Rena said. “But when it’s your child, it’s hard not to place blame. Nothing can change the fact that I looked away just long enough to enable the kidnapper. It’s something I’ll have to live with forever. Something I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to atone for.”
“Ah, so you were the only parent chaperone on the field trip?”
“Of course not. There were six, maybe seven moms in all, but they were all looking out for the children assigned to them. I can’t—won’t—blame anyone else.”
“That’s the trouble with self-importance,” the doctor said slowly. “It tends to take a terrible toll on the individual.” She paused then added, “For Rosie’s sake, you need to find another way to deal with your feelings, Mrs. VanMeter.”
Almost word for word what Martha had said. It hadn’t helped then, and it wasn’t helping now.
“If you insist on beating yourself up, you’ll need to find a way to do it in private. Even then, there’s a chance Rosie will pick up on it.”
She turned her attention to Grant again. “And you’ll need to set aside your anger toward Rena, at least in the presence of your daughter. I’m happy to recommend a marriage counselor that you can see in addition to whomever you choose for Rosie.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless neither of you believes a reconciliation is possible.”
Why had Robson aimed the question at her, instead of Grant? Maybe, Rena thought, because she thinks you’ll give a more straightforward answer…
“I can’t speak for Grant, but I’m certainly not opposed to getting back together. Permanently.” She could feel his eyes on her. Hopefully, her response hadn’t riled him further.
“Grant?” Robson said. “Do you feel the same way?”
“I, ah, well, I guess I’m not totally opposed to it.”
“Do I detect a but in your answer?”
He sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look. Doctor. You said what’s really important is that we set aside our differences, especially in Rosie’s presence. And I agree with that. Is it possible we’ll resolve the marriage problems while we’re faking it?” Yet another shrug. “Who knows? All I can say for sure is that I’ll do anything, anything to help my girl.”
How had he managed to sound surly and nonchalant at the same time? Rena wondered. Faking it. He could have slapped her and it wouldn’t have hurt as much.
Robson turned to another page in the file. “Will you be returning to work, Rena?”
In her opinion, this felt a lot more like an interrogation than a meeting to discuss what was best for Rosie. From the sound of things, Dr. Robson was looking for reasons not to send Rosie home with them.
She chose her words carefully. “No. For the time being, anyway, I have no plans to look for a new job. I want to be available twenty-four seven until I’m sure Rosie is all right, that she has acclimated to all of us being together again. And just so you know, Grant is taking some time off work, too.” She crossed her legs, and tugged at the hem of her skirt. “Agent Gonzalez told us he gave you a letter, written by the kidnapper? That there are things in it Grant and I need to hear?”
“Yes, that’s true. But let’s not rush.”
“Rosie and Rena and I have been apart long enough,” Grant ground out. “I say we cut to the chase, do whatever needs doing to put us together with her, ASAP.”
The doctor walked around to the front of her desk and sat on its corner, tapping an envelope against a heavy wooden nameplate.
“Oh, my,” Rena said. “My hands are shaking so badly, the words will blur.”
“I’m happy to read it aloud, if you like,” Robson said, “but if you’d rather, I’ll give you a few minutes to read it in private.”
Rena met Grant’s eyes. “It’s up to you.”
“Go ahead,” he told the doctor. “Read it. We’ll read it again later. At the hotel.”
She’d already stressed that they’d need to come back in the morning when, after Robson had a chance to observe the threesome and share her expert opinion on how to proceed, they could begin their trip home. Last night, they’d struggled to find things to talk about, and while lovely, the room hadn’t provided a place to escape from awkward silences. At least tonight, they’d have Barbara’s letter to discuss.
The doctor returned to her chair and swiveled to face them, head on.
“As you’ll recall,” Robson said, “Ms. Smith left this letter with her sister, with instructions that it was to be delivered unopened to the authorities in the event of her demise.” She slid the pages from the envelope. “Agent Gonzalez has a copy in his file, as do I. This is the original, and it’s for you.
“I’ve spoken with the sister—and several other close relatives—about this matter. They were horrified to learn what Barbara had done, but they’d never met Rosie—or Ruby, as Barbara called her.”
“How many relatives were there?”
“Just the sister and her grown children. They lived relatively nearby.”
“But they never met her?”
“According to my interviews, they did not.”
“Good. Because…I can't speak for Grant, but I'm not in favor of visiting rights!”
Rena might as well have remained silent for all the attention the doctor paid her comment.
“Her sister told me that Barbara was suicidal after losing her husband and child. Sounds like she suffered survivor’s guilt.”
“Agent Gonzalez told me the drunk driver only got five years? That must have made things tougher,” Grant said.
Robson sniffed. “The man had a good lawyer, for one thing, and it was his first offense, for another. Throw in a sympathetic judge…” She ran a hand across the tidy handwriting that filled the first page of the letter. “I think learning more about her will make it easier for you to understand what she did.”
“Understand? You must be joking!” Rena said. “Nothing you say, and nothing in that letter can make me understand how a person steals someone else’s child. Grant and I lived without Rosie for years because of her. She took a part of us when she took Rosie. Losing her nearly destroyed us, but we didn’t go out and kidnap someone else’s child to ease our pain!”
Rena felt the heat of an angry blush coloring her cheeks. The office grew quiet, so quiet she could hear the steady swish of the pendulum, swaying right and left in the body of Robson’s stately grandfather clock. What was the woman waiting for…her or Grant to say that they’d split up because it seemed less agonizing than holding on to one another?
“While I agree with Rena, we’re not any closer to seeing Rosie, now are we?” Grant pointed out.
“I just want to take a moment to stress how important it is that you’re honest with yourselves. If you aren’t absolutely sure you can present a united front, it’ll be better for Rosie if you sit her down and tell her the truth about your relationship, right away.”
Rena imagined the scene… Rosie, teary-eyed and frightened by the prospect of being shuttled from Grant’s house to hers. “Dr. Robson—”
“Fiona, please.”
After tomorrow, they’d never see her again, so Rena saw no reason to feign a friendly relationship. Except that the doctor might see her reluctance to agree as a character trait that might be damaging to Rosie. She decided to play nice.
“We’ve barely had a chance to adjust to the situation, ourselves. There hasn’t been time to discuss exactly how we’ll make it work. But I can assure you of one thing. We. Will. Make. It. Work.”
Robson returned to her chair. “Good. I’m relieved to hear that. Because from what I gathered through interviews with Rosie and studying her behavior, she’s handling things admirably. It’s possible she’ll adapt quickly and easily to being with you, to being home again.” She raised an eyebrow. “That said, she will most likely have some issues related to Barbara’s death. She told Rosie you two were gone, then stepped into your shoes. Now that Rosie knows you’re alive and well, and that Barbara lied to her… Well, all that is bound to cause a few problems.
“Don’t be overly concerned, though. As I said, she seems like a well-adjusted little girl, despite all she’s been through. So, much as I hate to repeat myself, if you can’t pull off the whole together again thing, tell her. Tell her now. She won’t be happy, but she’ll adapt. She’s a resilient kid.”
“Tell her?” Grant all but shouted. “Out of the question! She’s just a little girl! A little girl who’s been through more these past few years than most adults go through in a lifetime. Life has made too many demands on her already. Dealing with the breakup of her parents…” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not going to happen. She needs to know she can count on us.” He glanced over at Rena. “We’re in this for the long haul, right?”
Rena searched his face and saw how much he needed her to say yes. And so she did.
Facing Robson, she said, “We’re not so naïve that we think it’ll be a cakewalk, but we have the best incentive in the world to make the marriage work—Rosie.”
It did her heart good to hear Grant’s relieved sigh.
“You know,” Robson said, “I agree with Manuel. I think you guys are going to do fine, just fine.”
With that, she put on her glasses and picked up the letter. Rena didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she reached for Grant’s hand. He took it, gave it a slight squeeze, and held it against his chest.
“‘To whom it may concern,’” Robson began. “‘In the event of my death, it should be known that Ruby Smith is not my daughter. Her real name is Rosie, and she belongs to Grant and Rena VanMeter, who live in Ellicott City, a suburb of Baltimore, Maryland.’”
The letter went on to explain how she’d been in town visiting a friend in the hope that a few months away from Chicago would help her put the loss behind her, once and for all. During a trip to the Columbia Mall, she'd noticed Rosie on the ornate carousel as her mother watched from a few feet away. She’d struck up a conversation with the mother, asking which child was hers.
And then Rena remembered… If the woman hadn’t spoken to her, she might not have noticed her at all. And if not for her unhappy eyes and wavering voice, Rena probably would have pretended not to hear the question. “That one,” she’d said. “That’s my Rosie. And yours?” As the ride slowed, the woman pointed, too, at a brown-haired boy in one of the booth seats. Rena had moved toward the gate, saying “Aw, he’s cute,” and immediately turned her attention to Rosie, who’d skipped up to remind her about getting ice cream afterward.
It hadn’t been the only time Rena had seen the woman. At the pet store a few weeks later, she saw her again, standing alone as Rosie and a few other children played with a litter of kittens. Correction, Rena realized, she’d been watching Rosie. Was it possible that if she’d found a way to speak to Barbara that day…or if she'd spotted her weeks later, at the petting zoo, she might have prevented the kidnapping?
Agent Gonzalez could shed light on that, and tomorrow, she’d present him with the information. Right now, Rena only wanted to get the whole letter-reading ordeal over with, because the sooner that was behind them, the sooner they’d see their precious child.
“‘I know how hard it must have been for her parents, but I won’t say I’m sorry,’” Robson continued, “‘because Ruby gave me years’ worth of joy. If I had it all to do over again, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I want to assure them that I treated her well. She had everything she needed and then some.’” The doctor folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. “She signed it Barbara Smith,” she said, handing it to Grant.
His hand was shaking as he leaned forward to accept it, sliding it into his shirt pocket without letting go of Rena’s hand. “Is there anything else?”
The doctor got to her feet and plucked a business card from the holder on her desk. “No, we’ve covered everything, I believe.” She gave the card to Grant, and this time he did let go of Rena.
“If you have any questions, feel free to call any time.”
“Are we…are we going to see Rosie now?” Rena asked, following her to the door.
“We are. My advice? Do what feels natural. If hugs and kisses seem in order, give them.”
“But…but how will we know?”
Robson stopped, laid a hand on Rena’s forearm and met her eyes. “From everything I’ve gathered from our little talk,” she said, smiling, “I’m confident that you’ll know.” She paused. “Would you like to see pictures of her?”
“What I’d like,” Rena said, “is to see my child.”
The doctor nodded. “Okay, I’ll go ahead and make sure everything is ready.” She gestured toward a bench in the hall. “You guys have a seat.”
Grant hesitated. “What do you mean, ‘get everything ready’?”
“Rosie has been with my assistant, who’s overseeing some artwork we asked her to do. Drawings provide us with a view into what’s going on in kids’ minds. They often say what they think we want to hear, but their pictures rarely lie.”
Rena sat on the bench and Grant followed. “And if there’s something disturbing in her pictures, then what?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t expect to find anything out of the ordinary. Look at it this way. Even if there are signs of trouble, at least you’ll have a heads-up—and so will the therapist you’ll take her to at home. Forewarned is forearmed, you know?”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Rena said as Grant nodded.
“You suppose?”
“We haven’t had time to talk to get a recommendation from her pediatrician.”
“No problem. I’ve compiled a list of specialists in your area and put them into the envelope with Barbara’s letter. They’re all people with the skills and experience to deal with children like Rosie.”
Children like Rosie, who’d been abducted and kept from their families for years…
“I’ll come back for you in a few minutes.”
The click-clack of her heels on the linoleum ended when the door to 1420 closed behind her.
Eyes squeezed shut Grant looked at the ceiling. “Do me a favor, will ya?”
“Sure. Of course. Anything,” she said, meaning it.
“If I start blubbering like a baby when I see her, whack me upside the head.”
“I won’t need to. You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. Not that crying would change that.”
He scanned her face, as if searching for evidence that she’d meant it.
“Most stubborn, you mean.”
What was he suggesting?
“I can’t stand this,” Rena burst out. “I want to see her. Right now.”
Grant rested his elbows on his thighs and held his head in his hands. “I know. I hate waiting.”
“I remember,” she said. If he’d said it once, he’d said it a hundred times in their years together.
Grant clasped and unclasped his hands in the space between his knees. It’s what he’d done in the ER when Rosie fell from the swing and broke her arm, and every other time he felt out of control.
She gave in to the urge to comfort him, and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “A very wise man once told me not to worry, because everything would be all right.”
Grant sat back. “Yeah, well…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Wonder what’s taking so long?”
As if on cue, the door at the end of the hall opened and Robson leaned out. “We’re ready for you.”
“Are you as nervous as I am?” Grant whispered as they stood.
“My stomach is in knots. All I want to do is give her the biggest hug ever. I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back.”
“Maybe we won’t have to make that decision. Maybe Rosie will hug us.”
They stood just outside the heavy wooden door. Grant grasped the knob. “Ready?”
Rena squared her shoulders. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
She followed him into a small waiting area between the entrance and another door. It was empty.
“Where did Robson disappear to?” Rena asked.
Grant didn’t reply but simply crossed the room in three long strides and opened the door to the playroom. Rena took her place beside him.
And there she was.
Our Rosie.
Grant squatted down to her height. “Hey there, kiddo,” he said.
Rosie looked at each of them in turn, and as her gaze settled on Grant’s face, a slow smile lit up her face. “You look just like your picture. Just like I remembered.”
Bending, Rena whispered, “Picture?”
“I emailed a couple photos of us,” he whispered back. “In case Agent Gonzalez or Dr. Robson needed them for anything.”
Rosie scrambled to her feet and, hands clasped at her waist, took a tentative step forward, and in that split-second, Rena wondered how much Rosie remembered from that day five years ago. Did she hate Rena for allowing another child's needs to distract her from her own little girl? How many times had Rosie thought about that moment? Was it the source of nightmares and day terrors? Had it scarred her forever?
Grant held out his arms, and Rosie ran to him. “Daddy, Daddy, oh, Daddy…”
Through her tears, Rena could see that Grant’s eyes were moist, too.
“Ah, my sweet Rosie-girl,” he said. For what seemed like a full five minutes, he held her tight and when he held her at arm's length, Rena saw that his tears had dampened the child's shoulder.
“Let me look at you.” Bracketing her face with big, strong hands, he stared into her eyes. “You’re a sight to behold, you know that? I’m so happy to see you!”
“I’m happy to see you, too!”
Rosie hadn't cast so much as a glance in Rena's direction.
And it broke her heart.
Rosie remembered. Did she hate her? Grant turned slightly, held out a hand to invite Rena closer. Kneeling beside him with arms extended, she waited, hoping her little girl would greet her as she’d greeted her dad.
“Go ahead, sweetie, give your mom a big hello hug.”
Oh, how it hurt that she only moved closer because of Grant’s gentle nudge! Rena wrapped her arms around her, willing herself to appreciate the momentary contact, to ignore the way Rosie stood, arms pressed tight to her sides, stiff as a statue.
Reminding herself it was only their first interaction, that Rosie had been through a lot and must be overwhelmed, Rena willed herself not to cry. Time, she decided, would heal any wounds her inattentiveness had caused her sweet daughter.
Time, and a major miracle…
Rena turned her loose, feigned a smile. Hands on the tiny shoulders, she said, “I missed you, sweet girl, missed you so much!”
The child’s blank stare shook her to the core, threatening her tenuous hold on self-control. Clearly, Rosie didn’t believe her. This was the stuff of nightmares.
Her only child hated her.
Rosie looked at Grant. “When are we going home?”
He straightened to his full height and Rosie grabbed his hand.
“Right now,” he answered, his defiant expression a warning to the doctor that she'd best not disagree.
Robson, who’d been watching from a few yards away, said nothing.
Rosie read the woman's silence as rejection of Grant's straightforward statement.
“Does that mean I have to go back to the Millers’ house?” Rosie asked, her voice rising. “I don’t want to sleep there again. Their house is a mess and those other kids are loud. And that boy pushes everybody!”
Robson frowned, and Rena didn’t dare speak. One wrong word and the psychiatrist could decide to nix their plans.
Finally, Robson said, “We have a few more details to work out, papers to sign, things like that…”
“I don’t mind waiting while you do those things,” Rosie was quick to respond. “I’m really, really good at waiting. I’ll sit quietly and I won’t complain, I promise. Just please, please, please let me go with them today?”
The doctor hesitated yet again, and put her back to Rosie. “It isn’t protocol,” she told Grant and Rena, “but let me see what I can do.” Starting for the door, she added, “Will you two be all right here?”
Rena put a protective arm around Rosie. “Of course we will.” Again, she did her best to ignore the child’s rigid response to her touch. Somehow, since learning that her parents weren’t dead after all, she must have come up with her own conclusion: Her dad wasn't to blame for her mother's mistake.
“I shouldn’t be long,” Robson said, leaving them.
“So, Rosie,” Grant said, hands on knees, “how ’bout if you show Mom and me what you’ve been working on over there.”
Rosie took his hand, led him to the bright blue rug where she’d constructed her blocks castle. “This,” she said, “is where the king lives.”
Grant also sat cross-legged on the floor. “Yes, yes I see. That’s some castle you’ve made!”
Rena joined them, put a fingertip on the flat blue blocks that surrounded the building. “Is this the moat?”
“Mmm-hmm,” the girl muttered.
She’d had no difficulty making eye contact with Grant. If only she’d look at me, Rena thought, she’d see how much I love her! She set aside her hurt feelings and pressed on. “Which room is the king in?”
Pointing at a chunky, lopsided turret, she said, “He’s in there. That’s where the queen is, and the princess, too.” She met Rena’s eyes with a flat, unfeeling stare. “They never, ever leave their little girl alone because they know there are bad people on the other side of the moat, people who might take her far, far away.”
Was it her way of letting them know that life with Barbara hadn’t been the pretty picture she’d painted for Robson?
Rena made up her mind to do everything in her power to break through the icy wall between her and Rosie.
Rena sat back on her heels, watching as Grant and Rosie added a wing to the castle. An ugly thought surfaced: what if the only way to ensure Rosie’s well-being was to remove herself from the family circle?