“I DON’T HAVE any floss…”
Rena found hers and handed it to Rosie.
“Thanks…”
Rosie’s lips had formed the beginning of the word Mom. At least, that was the way it looked to Grant. Wishful thinking or not, it gave him hope that the wall between them had begun to crumble.
Sitting on either side of Rosie’s bed, he and Rena listened to her prayers and tucked her in. Moments later, when the sounds of her soft, steady breaths told them she was fast asleep, Grant helped himself to one of two leftover slices of pizza.
“Want one?”
Rena shook her head. “No, I’m stuffed. But thanks.”
He waved her to their side of the room, and she sat beside him at the foot of the bed.
“Was I imagining things, or did Rosie almost call you mom?” he said quietly.
“I thought I was seeing things! Yes, that’s how it looked to me, too.”
He bit off the point of the slice. “It’s a good sign,” he said around it, “especially so early in the…what did Robson call it?” He made air quotes with his free hand. “‘The process.’”
“Oh, I hope you’re right, Grant. It hurts, knowing she doesn’t trust me, but in her shoes, I’d probably feel the same way.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
She shifted to face him, pressing her knee against his thigh. Was that intentional?
“You don’t have a mean bone in your body,” he continued. “It’s what makes you excuse just about every awful thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“I don’t make excuses—”
“Oh, really? What about when the guy at the grocery store put the canned goods on top of the bread, and you said something must have happened to distract him? Or the time the mechanic left loose nuts and bolts, and all the oil drained out of your car? You said maybe he hurt his wrist, and it hurt to tighten them.”
“I scolded the girl at the dry cleaners for losing your favorite white shirt…”
“Right. By telling her you realize she doesn’t run the operation, single-handedly, but…”
Her nose crinkled slightly as she smiled at the memory. He’d always loved it when she did that. If he hadn’t been holding the pizza, Grant would have slid an arm around her, pulled her close and kissed her. And knowing Rena, she would have let him, even though he topped the list of people who’d hurt her. She could forgive near-strangers their transgressions, but she had every right to expect better from her husband. He’d promised to love and honor her, to make her feel safe, always.
During those first weeks after Rosie was taken, he’d managed to keep a civil tongue. They were both in shock, after all. But as the months dragged on, and it became clear the cops probably wouldn’t find their girl, he’d let some terrible accusations fly. And Rena had taken them all on the chin. When she’d suggested having another baby, he’d called her selfish for using an innocent child to salve her guilty conscience. Didn’t she realize, he’d demanded, that even if he agreed—and he did not—another child could never replace his sweet girl? His words had cut deep. He knew, because he’d seen the pain in her eyes. And although he’d given her plenty of ammunition to strike back, she hadn’t. Following each attack, he’d spent countless hours rationalizing what he’d said, telling himself that Rena never fought back because she agreed with him.
But he knew better. It simply wasn’t in her nature to lash out, even in self-defense.
“She’ll come around,” he said.
“I intend to do everything I can to make that happen, no matter how long it takes or how many bumps there are in the road.”
She hadn’t said “try.” He remembered how frustrating it had been for her to listen to anyone say that word. “Either do a thing, or don't,” she’d say.
“I know you will.” One more reason to work on loving her again. It shouldn't be all that hard…if he focused on how sweet-tempered and caring she'd always been.
He shook his head. Get a grip. She’s still the person responsible for the five years you lost with your little girl…
Standing, he dropped the pizza crust into the garbage. “Think I’ll get ready for bed. We’ll need to get an early start in the morning.”
“Right. I hear navigating O’Hare's terminals can be torture.”
Not as torturous as wanting her and feeling like he might never truly have her.
He looked over at their sleeping daughter. She seemed so peaceful and happy, so innocent and angelic. Wishful thinking? Or did they have reason to hope that was exactly how Rosie felt, now that she was reunited with them?
He unzipped his bag, removed the deep purple Ravens PJ bottoms, his toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’ll only be a minute,” he said, stepping into the bathroom. Though he knew it’d be longer than that. Lots longer. He needed time. Time to shelve his resentment and focus, instead, on how hard Rena was trying…
A soft knock at the door ended his reverie.
“I hate to sound cliché, but you didn’t fall in, did you?”
Grant opened the door. “Sorry.”
“It hasn’t been that long, but I didn’t hear anything…water running, tooth-brushing… I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
He grasped her wrist and pulled her inside. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the toilet.
She blinked in surprise and then grinned. “Who would have thought you’d put me on the throne!”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” He closed the door and leaned against the vanity counter. Arms crossed, Grant said, “I need you to know I’m sorry, Rena.”
She swallowed. “Like I said, you haven’t been in here all that long.”
She knew as well as he did why he’d apologized. It was her sweet way of giving him an out, if he wanted one.
Grant looked at the ceiling, where evidence of a leak had turned the corner tile a sickly shade of yellow. Good thing Rena hasn’t noticed, he thought, or she’d figure out a way to get up there and disinfect the thing. He could almost hear her as she scrubbed away, insisting that they couldn’t be too careful.
“What I’m sorry for, Rena, are all the ugly things I’ve said to you.”
Her green eyes widened and sparkled in the fluorescent light. She licked her lips. Took a deep breath. Sat up as tall as her five-foot-two-inch frame would allow. He could hardly blame her for feeling uneasy. The apology had been a long time coming. And she had no reason to believe its sincerity.
“I understand. It’s all right,” she said slowly, quietly.
“See? There you go again, making excuses for bad behavior.”
She stared at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.
“I just wanted to get that out in the open, so you’ll believe me when I say I’m going to work with you on this. We’re in it together, for better or worse.”
When she met his eyes, Grant held his breath. Oh, to have mind-reading powers. He would give anything to know if she’d zeroed in on his “better or worse” comment. Was she wondering why he hadn’t paid more attention to that, years ago?
And did she realize how beautiful she looked, sitting there in her peach-colored dress and matching shoes? If she kept staring at him that way… It made him want to draw her close and kiss away all the sadness and bitterness of the past few years. A lot of water had rushed under the proverbial bridge. Enough water to rock its foundation?
“What did you think about Robson’s suggestion, that we tell Rosie the truth?” Grant asked. He’d made his opinion clear, but Rena’s lack of response hadn’t escaped his notice.
“About our separation? Absolutely not! She isn’t ready for another shock, especially not so soon.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He uncapped the toothpaste, squirted a line onto the bristles.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” she said, opening the bathroom door.
A mere two feet separated them. One sideways step and—
She tiptoed into the hall. “Don’t rush on my account. I’m fine.”
Grant sped it up anyway. He still had a lot of thinking to do, but he could do it in bed. It wasn’t likely he’d sleep at all tonight. A good thing. He needed to figure out how to keep his promise—to cooperate on every level—without taking advantage of her loving, giving character. Or getting hurt himself.
Because much as he’d missed her, much as he loved her, Rena was still the reason he’d lost so many years with his Rosie-girl.
* * *
IN THE MOMENTS it took Rena to come fully awake, she didn’t know which disturbed her more, Rosie’s quiet moans or the distance between her and Grant. She’d grabbed his extra pillow and clutched it to her. A pathetic substitute for his arms?
Rena shook her head and slipped slowly from the bed, wincing when its springs squeaked, and went to her deeply sleeping daughter’s side.
A slice of brightness from the parking lot lights slipped through a gap in the curtains, illuminating one side of Rosie’s face. Brow furrowed and lips pursed, she issued another quiet moan.
Rena pulled the covers higher then sat on the edge of the mattress. “What are you dreaming about, sweet girl, to put such a look on your pretty face?” she whispered, finger-combing nearly-blond bangs from the child’s forehead.
Rosie’s frown deepened as a quiet whimper passed her lips.
“Shh, honey. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be home, sleeping in your own bed. No need to worry anymore because your dad and I will take care of you.”
Rosie stirred, and Rena froze, concerned that she’d disturbed the girl’s much-needed sleep.
Then Rosie extended her arms, as if inviting a hug. And Rena was more than happy to oblige. She lay down beside her and drew her close, pressing tender kisses to her temple, her forehead, her cheek. Snuggling closer, Rosie buried her face in the crook of Rena’s neck. The sound of her steady breaths brought thankful tears to her eyes. “Oh, how I love you, Rosie-girl,” she said on a sigh.
How ironic, Rena thought, that she and Rosie had both reached out for warmth and comfort during the night. It seemed wrong that Grant had no one to offer the same solace to him.
Then, a startling question surface in her mind: What if Rosie had been reaching out for Barbara? Would it upset her, upon waking, to realize whose arms had cradled her as she slept?
Eyes shut tight, Rena willed the possibility from her mind. Not a difficult feat, if she allowed herself to focus on the treasure wrapped in her arms.
* * *
ROSIE MUTTERED QUIETLY in her sleep. If Grant had been sleeping deeply, himself, he probably wouldn’t have heard it at all. He looked her way, saw that she lay perfectly still, and decided not to nudge her awake.
Rena rolled close to the edge of the mattress. So close that he caught a whiff of her lavender-scented shampoo. The familiar scent was strangely soothing and took him back to a time when he'd loved the way she smelled, fresh from a shower…and right before they fell asleep in one another’s arms. He smiled a bit at another memory… Rena, rolling her eyes at a young couple giving in to a very public display of affection. “They’re trying too hard to make others think they’re so in love that they can’t keep their hands off each other.” She’d stood on tiptoe and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “Aren’t we lucky? We show our affection for one another…in private.”
She hadn’t exaggerated.
Warmth rushed through him. He blamed too much time alone, too many months of missing her for his intense reaction to her nearness. Her fingers, splayed across her pillow, brought back yet another recollection; if things were good between them, that delicate hand would lie on his chest, instead.
She stirred, then stiffened. Probably sensing that she’d inched so close to the edge of her mattress that she risked ending up on his bed. Then, as though his fretfulness had woken her, Rena tossed her covers aside and slid out of bed.
“What are you dreaming about, sweet girl, to put such a look on your pretty face?”
So, he thought, she’d heard Rosie’s whimpers, too…
Silhouetted as she was by light from the parking lot below, he could see her tuck the covers under their daughter’s chin and smooth wayward locks back into place. He couldn’t make out what she said next, but there was no mistaking her last words: “…no need to worry anymore, because your dad and I will take care of you.”
Then Rosie’s arms lifted, and Rena lay down and filled them. He could watch with eyes wide open now because her back was to him. And what a picture! Grant smiled to himself.
Singing softly, Rena stroked their girl’s hair. He recognized the tune as one Rosie had asked her mother to sing when she wasn’t feeling well.
He’d forgotten what a lovely voice she had, but remembered well that Rena’s songs had the power to soothe and calm.
And then all was silent, save the tick of his wristwatch on the nightstand. Good, he thought, they’re both sleeping peacefully.
It dawned on him that Rena had nothing to keep her warm. He got out of bed and gathered up the blanket from her cot and eased it over her.
She exhaled a soft sigh and snuggled deep into its warmth, momentarily capturing his hand between her chin and the blankets. Oh, how tempting it was to lie down beside her and embrace them both.
Get a grip. What if Rena woke to find him there, and recoiled from his touch? They couldn’t risk Rosie seeing something like that.
He needed to get control of his emotions. Otherwise he wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the next days…weeks…
He’d manage. What choice did he have?
“We’re not so naïve as to believe this will be easy,” she’d told Robson.
Grant scrunched the too-soft pillow and burrowed into it. “When you’re right, you’re right, Rena,” he whispered.
She’d reassured him when upcoming exams left him feeling dumber than a block of wood, nursed him back to health the year he came down with pneumonia, tended him after he’d rolled down a ski slope and broken his leg. For as long as he’d known her, Rena had been right there beside him. He’d been proud to call her his wife, but never more proud than when she tucked that tiny pink-blanketed bundle of energy into his arms that rainy night in May.
Drowsiness settled over him and he closed his eyes, knowing even before he drifted off to sleep that she’d be in his dreams.