FOR DAYS, ROSIE talked about her first-ever plane trip. The minuscule bathroom, the comical guy who taught passengers how to buckle their seat belts, the pretty flight attendant who gave her a faux gold pin. She wore it for more than a week, on T-shirts and sweatshirts, and if Rena hadn’t pointed out that the wings could scratch her, Rosie would have worn it to bed, too.
She loved running back and forth between their house and Tina’s, usually leaving home with a favorite stuffed animal and returning with cookies, brownies or fudge. During meals, she entertained Grant with knock-knock jokes and silly faces. At bedtime, she amazed them with sweet, childlike prayers, and woke them with an off-key rendition of the “Good Morning” song. And many times a day, she delighted Grant with surprise hugs.
It hurt Rena like crazy, watching Rosie interact with Grant, while sharing none of the sweet gestures with her. Though she pretended not to notice how deliberately Rosie ignored her, Rena was determined to mention her concerns at their first meeting with Dr. Danes.
The psychologist spent forty minutes alone with Rosie, but during the time allotted to her and Grant, Rena grew impatient. Why was he so determined to learn about their childhoods when the only childhood that mattered was Rosie’s!
“I can see you have something on your mind, Mrs. VanMeter. Care to talk about it?”
“I just think we should be talking more about Rosie and less about us.”
“Good point,” Grant said.
Danes nodded. “I see. Anything specific that concerns you?”
“For one thing, Rosie only mentions Barbara to let us know what she cooked, or which books she read to her, that she believed student-teacher ratios in public schools are horrible, that TV is the ruination of today’s youth.”
Grant said, “Rena is right. Good or bad, Barbara was pretty much the only person Rosie interacted with. Shouldn’t she be…shouldn’t she be mourning her death?”
Danes nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll be honest. That day is coming. No doubt about it. But for now, I see no reason to kick up dust.”
Rena couldn’t believe her ears. “Kick up dust! What does that mean?”
Grant sent her a look that said, “easy, now.” Their relationship had improved considerably in the past couple weeks, due in large part to Rosie’s antics and mostly happy mood. Too often, though, when he thought she wouldn’t notice, he watched her through narrowed, suspicious eyes, as if waiting for her to say or do something that might put Rosie in harm’s way.
Now he leaned forward. “Sorry if we seem thickheaded, Dr. Danes, but how are we supposed to prevent problems if we don’t know what to look for?”
“You can’t. Eventually, Rosie will come to terms with what happened to Barbara. Children don’t cope with grief in the same way adults do. Add to that the fact that she’s been through a lot of changes in a short period of time. In a word, she’s overwhelmed. She’s still processing, learning what does and doesn’t please you, teaching herself ways to fit in her new environment. Sooner or later, she’ll feel comfortable enough—and she’ll trust you enough—to deal with her past.”
He walked around to the front of his desk and leaned against it. Rena frowned. What was it with psychiatrists and their penchant for perching?
Danes removed his glasses. “At that point, you may see changes in her behavior.” He counted on his fingers. “Spending more time alone in her room, bursting into tears for no apparent reason. She might sulk, or lash out at you. Those will be signs that she has questions, but doesn’t know how to ask them.” Using the glasses as a pointer, Danes added, “That’s when you’ll need to coax information from her. Not by mentioning Barbara’s death, mind you, because that may not be the cause of the new behavior.”
Grant blew a stream of air through his teeth. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying we play the waiting game, keep a close eye on her, and if she starts acting out—or even looks like that’s what she’s doing, we get her to talk.” He slapped a hand to the back of his neck. “I don’t mind telling you, doc, that sounds counterproductive. Why not just sit her down and ask her how she’s doing with the whole losing Barbara thing, and deal with it in an honest, straightforward way?”
“My house is for sale,” Danes said.
Rena and Grant exchanged a curious glance.
“My Realtor loves to say ‘location is everything.’ Well, in cases like this, timing is everything.”
Grant shook his head. “I thought that’s what actors said about comedy.”
Arms crossed, Danes said, “Mr. VanMeter, I realize that you and your wife are under a lot of stress, too, but I’m sure you’ll agree that our main goal is helping Rosie deal with her past and adjust to her present.”
Rena knew that look. Grant’s frustration had just about reached its height. Any minute now, he’d jump up and leave the office. If that happened, he’d stubbornly refuse to return, which meant finding another therapist. And yet another change that wouldn’t be good for Rosie.
“We’re just confused,” she interjected. “Say too little, Rosie pays the price. Say too much—or at the wrong time…” She extended her hands, palms up. “What we need from you, Dr. Danes, is applicable advice. Without that, we might as well flounder around on our own.”
The doctor pressed his palms together. “Do you realize what’s just happened?”
Again, Rena and Grant exchanged a puzzled look.
“You got back together to present a united front to Rosie, and from what she has told me, it’s working.” He smiled. “This exchange makes that even more clear. Your reactions show me that you’re true partners in this.”
Partners. Would she and Grant find their way back to the beginning, when they’d been that for each other? Or had too many hurts and disappointments, too many harsh words and resentments ruined what they'd had? They’d shared a few lighthearted family moments since Rosie’s return, and yet, crossing that bridge seemed an unlikely dream…until the memory of Grant, tenderly covering her with the comforter, surfaced.
Danes returned to his chair, rousing her from the daydream.
“She’s going to be fine,” he said, “with you two looking out for her.” He tapped his watch. “On that note…”
This was Rena’s chance. “I have another question, Doctor. It’s about the way Rosie has been treating me. She isn’t rude, exactly, but for the most part, she pretty much ignores me. Do you feel, as I do, that it’s because she blames me for the kidnapping?”
Danes frowned. “It’s definitely possible. Although, it might give you some relief to know she didn’t say anything of that sort when I spoke with her.”
Rena didn’t understand, and said so.
“When I asked how you two are getting along, she told me you’re a hard-working mother, preparing meals, keeping the house and yard tidy, making sure she wears clothing that’s appropriate for the weather.” He paused, his frown deepening. “I suppose that could mean that Rosie realizes it isn’t in her best interest to point out any negatives about you.”
“That’s what it could mean?” Grant scowled.
“You’ve noticed this behavior, too?”
“I’d have to be deaf and blind not to have noticed, Doc.”
“And what are you doing to make your wife a part of things that you and Rosie do?”
Now, he looked annoyed. Because he didn’t believe he should be responsible for Rosie’s behavior? Or because he felt bad that he hadn’t done enough to include Rena?
In place of an answer, Grant stood and made his way to the door.
“Will we find Rosie in the playroom?” he asked.
“Yes. She’s with Meredith, who’s conducting a few tests. Soon as I’ve had a chance to study the results, she and I will devise an action plan. I’ll call you so we can discuss how I believe we should proceed.”
Muttering something about plans and proceedings, Grant walked into the playroom. The doctor stared after him in bewilderment. Why should we be the only ones who are confused? Rena thought. It seemed a shame Grant hadn’t been there to enjoy the moment.
“Same time next week?” she asked.
“I’ll have Meredith call you with some days and times.” He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mrs. VanMeter. Rosie is going to be fine. Barbara did a terrible thing, taking her from you—there’s no getting around that. But it appears she did a fair-to-middlin’ job of caring for her. Resent her if you must—that’s a normal reaction—but at the same time, acknowledge that things could have been a whole lot worse.”
A myriad of dark possibilities flitted through Rena’s brain. Danes was right. Rosie had come home to them without any obvious physical or mental scars. Rena’s loathing for Barbara lessened slightly.
Danes nodded toward Grant and Rosie. “Your family is waiting for you…”
Her family. Oh, how she loved the sound of that! Rena looked over her shoulder and saw them, standing hand in hand, Grant grinning and Rosie doing her best to fake a smile.
* * *
DANES MUST HAVE mentioned something about school during his meeting with Rosie, because the whole way home, she asked about Sentinal Lane Elementary.
“Do they have sports, like soccer and softball?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll ask when we’re getting you signed up.” Rena had done some online research and learned there would likely be tests to determine whether Rosie belonged in fourth or fifth grade. Athletics hadn’t even crossed her mind.
“What about music? My other mother said music is important for developing minds.”
“Yes, I’m sure the music department is very active. When I’ve passed Sentinal on my way to the grocery store, I’ve seen announcements on the marquee for choral recitals and stage plays. We’ll get more details when we meet with your principal and guidance counselor.”
“What are their names?”
“Mrs. Kingston and Ms. Gilmore.”
Rosie nodded. “Mrs. Kingston is the principal?”
Rena smiled. “Yes, honey.”
“I want to make a good first impression.”
She wondered what had inspired Rosie’s other mother to teach her that.
“Isn’t this Friday?” Rosie asked, seemingly changing the subject.
“Right up until midnight,” Grant said.
“Can we have movie night, like I had with my other mother?”
This was the third Friday she’d been back with them. Rena was torn between relief that Rosie felt comfortable enough to bring up the topic, and rancor toward Barbara for depriving them of dozens of Friday nights together.
“Tell you what,” she said, facing the back seat. “We’ll all get into our pajamas, and while you choose the movie, I’ll make popcorn and hot chocolate.”
“What will Dad do?”
“I’ll turn out the lights, so the family room will feel like a movie theater.”
Rosie clapped her hands. “Oh, goodie! I can hardly wait for it to get dark!”
Her behavior and word choices made it hard to believe Rosie had just turned nine. It did Rena’s heart good to witness this moment of little-girl glee.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Does it hurt your feelings when I call Barbara my other mother?”
It hurt like crazy, but Rena couldn’t risk damaging the moment of rapport by admitting it.
“You spent a long time with Barbara,” she said carefully. “It’s going to take a long time to adjust to life without her.”
From the corner of her eye, Rena could see her nodding thoughtfully. Would it have been smarter to simply say yes? Maybe Rosie was testing her.
“What if I don’t want to get over losing her? What if I'm glad she's gone?”
The question took Rena by surprise. Grant, too, judging by the bulging muscles in his jaw.
“She liked to say ‘I’m strict but fair,’” Rosie said.
“Discipline is a good thing,” Grant mused. “When it’s rooted in love.”
Was it a good thing that Rosie had been referring to Barbara in the past tense? Did it mean she’d soon open up about the day her “other mother” had died? She’d been right beside the woman, after all, saw and heard everything. And her young life had been a dizzying whirlwind ever since.
Thoughts of Barbara and Rosie’s talk of school made Rena wonder if the woman had kept up with Rosie’s inoculations. The authorities hadn’t found any paperwork to indicate that she had. First thing Monday morning, Rena would call their pediatrician to make an appointment. Next, she’d call the school, too, and make arrangements for her and Rosie to meet the principal and guidance counselor.
Grant planned to go back to work on Monday. To this point, he’d been front and center with Rosie while Rena did laundry, ran the vacuum, prepared meals. Rena had come to rely on him—for time spent with their daughter and the countless other things he’d done to smooth Rosie’s transition—and was surprised to realize that she’d miss having him around.
It seemed Grant appreciated the way she’d shouldered the chores, giving him more time to spend with Rosie. What would he think if he knew that house and yardwork had provided convenient reasons to avoid watching their warm interactions?
Rena had one weekend to figure out another strategy. If not, come Monday, she’d be spending all day alone with a daughter who couldn’t even offer her a genuine smile.