A WEEK LATER, the family gathered again at the VanMeters’. With all the lively conversation and jovial laughter, Rena couldn’t help but feel happy.
Her brother Jake leaned around his two kids. “Pass the corn on the cob, will ya, Grant?”
Rena watched as the platter made its way down the table, growing lighter, ear by ear, as it made its way to her oldest sibling.
Her younger brother Stan, sitting directly across from Jake, raised a hand like a boy in school. “Can we get some butter down here?”
Today, thanks to the threat of rain, they’d gathered around the dining room table. Long before the family’s arrival, she and Grant had stood at opposite ends, tugging to make room for two polished leaves. After putting the card table at one end and scrounging chairs from every room, they’d managed to accommodate all fourteen family members. And despite the elbow-to-elbow seating arrangement, she hadn’t heard a word of complaint.
When the meal ended, Tina and Linda decided to take advantage of a break in the weather to take their grandkids—seven between them—to the playground at Sentinal Park. Grant’s sisters and Jake’s wife, Emma, volunteered to help clean up. Rena had never thought of her kitchen as small…until four women squeezed into it at the same time.
Grant’s oldest sister took it upon herself to scrape the plates. “I’ve been dying to get you alone,” Anni said, bending over the trash can. “How are you guys doing? No need to sugarcoat things.”
“There’s no need to sugarcoat anything,” Rena assured her. “We’re fine. All three of us.”
One by one, each woman voiced her concerns. And one by one, Rena gave them upbeat, positive replies.
“If you think we’re being nosy,” Tressia, the youngest sister, said, “just tell us to butt out.”
“You aren’t being nosy. You love us—and we love all of you, too—so it’s natural that you’re a little apprehensive about the situation here since Rosie came home.” She met their eyes, each in turn. “You’ll just have to take me at my word—we’re doing all right.”
Tressia rinsed a plate and put it into the dishwasher. “Has Rosie said anything about the woman who took her?”
“Nothing important,” Rena said. They didn’t need to hear about the numerous “other mother” references since the last barbecue.
“Are you guys thinking of private school?”
“I have an appointment tomorrow, as a Sentinal.”
“Oh, I hear all sorts of good things about that school,” Tressia said. “It’s one of the top elementary schools in Maryland.”
Rena’s brother’s wife tucked a handful of spoons and forks into the machine. “Next time the bunch of us gets together,” Emma said, “you should use paper plates and plastic utensils.”
“And deprive myself of this traditional women-in-the-kitchen scene?” Rena laughed. “No way!”
“This is nice, isn’t it,” Anni said. “Reminds me of Sunday dinners at Grandma VanMeter's house. The men would turn on the TV and the kids went out to play while the women did the dishes.”
“Yeah. Right. Great times. The men sat around like kings while their women behaved like servants,” Tressia put in. “Those were good times, all right!”
The women laughed, and Rena was relieved by the change of topic.
“What about you and Zach and Jake?” Emma asked her. “I don’t remember Jake talking much about big get-togethers at the grandparents’.”
“There’s a good reason for that. Our grandparents all died young, so there really wasn’t any place to go.” Putting away the kettle she’d just dried, Rena said, “I think that’s why I love it so much when everyone is here at the same time.”
“Grant loves it, too,” Anni added. “He told me years ago that nobody puts on a spread like you do.”
It felt good, hearing that he’d shared flattering things about her with his family. Memory of his sleepy “I love you” flashed in her brain, and she blinked it away.
“Your mom looks good,” Tressia said. “I’d love to know her anti-aging secret!”
“Your mom looks good, too,” Emma pointed out. “Every time I see Tina, I’m tempted to ask what sort of facial cream she uses!”
Even if she’d had something to contribute, Rena would have remained silent. Better that than say something that might turn their attention back to how well she and Grant were getting along since her return from Fenwick Island, or Rosie’s adjustment to being home.
Tressia closed the dishwasher. “So tell me, Rena, did you own your place on Eastern Shore?”
“No, I rented a small cottage. The woman next door owned it.” She needed to give Lilly a call, see how many bushels of vegetables her garden had produced so far this season.
“Bet it was adorable.” Anni smiled. “You have such a knack for decorating.”
“Jake told me once that when you started college, you wanted to be an interior designer,” Emma said. “And that your folks talked you into courses that promised a more stable career.”
“True. And the same sort of pressure is why Grant decided to go into finance.” She sent Anni and Tressia a conspiratorial grin. “You knew he wanted to become an oceanographer, right?”
“No, I didn’t!” Anni put a hand on her hip. “Now, how did he hide that from us?”
“He told me that after watching Jaws a couple dozen times, he wanted to be Matt Hooper.”
“Not Quint?” Tressia put in.
“Nope, it was Dr. Hooper all the way.”
“Well,” Anni observed, “if he was shorter…”
Tressia laughed. “And wore little round glasses…”
“You guys!” Emma said, joining their laughter. “Grant doesn’t look anything like…what’s-his-name!”
Rena agreed. The actor was good-looking enough in a cute sort of way. But Grant? She sighed. Tall and broad-shouldered, Grant was downright handsome.
“Look at those dreamy eyes,” Anni said. “I’ll bet a dollar she’s thinking about that gorgeous brother of ours.”
Her sister-in-law sidled up to her. “So are things back to normal between you two, you know, the private man-and-wife stuff?”
“Emma! What a question!”
Rena only smiled, and Anni’s fingers formed the universal okay sign. “In other words, things are going swell.”
“Swell,” Rena echoed, feigning annoyance. “Have you been watching sixties’ beach movies again?”
Anni’s husband entered the kitchen. “Hey, what’s going in here?”
“We’re talking about our husbands…”
Hands up like a man under arrest, he flattened himself against the wall. “It’s getting late, and the alarm buzzes early. We were just wondering when you guys will serve dessert.”
Anni pointed at the desserts lined up on the counter and handed him a knife. “Plates are in that cabinet, forks are in this drawer.”
Andy rolled his eyes and Rena gave him a gentle shove. “Get back out there. We’ll pretend it’s 1960 and serve you. Girls,” she said, facing the women, “I believe you’ll find some poufy aprons in the buffet…”
“Ha ha. Real funny,” Andy said, backing out of the room.
When he was gone, Tressia glanced at the clock. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. We should pass out dessert and hit the road.”
It had been a great day, filled with laughter and hugs, rousing family fun and good food. She loved these people. Loved spending time with them. Why, then, couldn’t she wait until they were all gone?
Because they’d asked too many questions, questions that made her feel that they were judging her—for leaving Grant, for losing Rosie, for not having the answers they wanted.
“I’ll bring the plates out,” Emma said. “Will one of you grab some forks and napkins?” She pulled Rena aside and lowered her voice. “When do you think the grandmothers will get back with the kids? We need to leave soon, too.”
“I’d text Mom, but…” She pointed at the counter beside the toaster, where her mother had put her phone after breakfast. First thing in the morning, she’d need to search every room, looking for her mother’s wallet or pill container. Maybe she’d ask Rosie to help. Before Barbara came between them, she and Rena had been quite the team. Gardening, baking, shopping. Inseparable. How long before they regained that closeness? Would they ever get it back?
“Don’t look so sad, Rena. Rosie will come around. You’ll see.”
It surprised her, hearing that her feelings were so evident on her face.
“I’m…I’m not sad.”
Emma’s caring expression told Rena that her sister-in-law didn’t believe it. And no wonder, when she’d all but shouted the retort. How long after arriving home would Emma and Jake start talking about his pitiful sister and her pathetic mess of a life? Ten minutes after their kids were tucked in? Less?
“Okay then, see you in a few.”
A peek out the window a few minutes later confirmed Rena’s suspicions: Emma, lips mere inches from Jake’s ear, no doubt telling him that things weren’t picture-perfect in the VanMeter household.
If she didn’t get outside, and fast, her brother would be the next one to inquire about her reunion with Grant, offering assurances that with time and patience, everything would return to normal. Just because the platitudes would be well-intentioned wouldn’t make them any easier to tolerate.
* * *
FROM THE CORNER of his eye, Grant saw a flash of movement near the shed. Something small, and black-and-white. He made his way to the back of the lot to check things out, hoping as he got closer that it wasn’t a skunk.
“Hey, dude,” Jake said, “wait up.”
Slowing his pace, he waited for Rena’s brother. Just minutes ago, Jake’s worried-looking wife had whispered into his ear. Grant didn’t know what might have happened in the kitchen to inspire the brief exchange, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.
“Where are you headed?” Jake asked.
“Saw something duck under the shed.”
“Probably a chipmunk. I saw one earlier, taking a leisurely hike on your woodpile.”
Grant didn’t bother saying he’d never seen a black-and-white chipmunk, especially not one the size of a small dog.
“So what’s up, Jake?”
“Up?”
“I saw you and Emma earlier, acting like you were swapping state secrets.”
Jake shrugged. “Emma seems to think something’s on Rena’s mind. She was wondering if you two are…well…if you haven’t quite worked things out. Yet.” Jake shrugged. “Rena’s my sister, Grant. I want to see her happy. So if there’s something I can do to help—”
“Whoa. Jake. Trust me. Things are fine. Rena is fine. Rosie’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine.”
He’d grown weary of defending their situation to her family members. Hopefully, his latest speech would put an end to these examinations.
“You’re sure? Because you should know, I’ve always liked you, Grant. I didn’t take sides when Rena left.”
“Meaning…you know why she moved out?”
“She never put it in so many words, but we figured it was because of what happened to Rosie. I’m guessing after a couple months of her moping around, blaming herself, you’d had your fill of it. Told her enough is enough. Deal with things. Get on with life.” Extending both hands, palms up, Jake shrugged. “And knowing Rena, she didn’t like hearing that, so she left.”
Jake had known the girl she’d been. If he really knew the woman she’d become, Jake would realize Rena didn’t give up easily. That she’d done everything humanly possible to hold things together, despite his shameful behavior.
Admittedly, Rosie had been at the heart of their disputes. But if he’d handled things like a man, Rena would have stayed.
“You’re right. I am the reason she left. But not because I was sick of her attitude. Because I caused it.”
Jake looked mildly surprised. “Well. But. Okay. So maybe you said a few things you shouldn’t have. But who’d blame you? Sounds cold, but let’s face facts. She wasn’t the only one suffering. What happened affected the entire family. No one more than you.”
Playing devil’s advocate, are you, brother-in-law?
“Not to discount what she went through or anything.” Jake put his hands in his pockets. “I know you won’t tell her I said all that. She already has enough on her shoulders without thinking her own brother turned on her.”
In his attempt to prove he hadn’t taken sides against Grant, Jake had painted himself into a corner. Grant felt a little sorry for the guy. “Mum’s the word.”
Jake nodded toward the house. “That cake looked pretty good. Think I’ll grab a slice before Emma decides it’s time to get the kids home and into the tub.”
Rena’s homemade chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. Knowing how much Grant liked the recipe, she’d always made it to celebrate his birthdays, promotions, their anniversary and every time he signed a new client to the investment firm. All of a sudden, though he’d wolfed down two burgers, a hot dog and sides, Grant wanted a piece of that cake.
“Must be a big adjustment,” Jake said as they neared the deck.
“What’s that?”
“Well, you were a bachelor for all intents and purposes, for what, three years?”
Five years since the kidnapping, three and a half years since the separation, Grant thought. But who’s counting?
Jake used his chin to point at Rena. “And now you’re a full-time husband again. With a nine-year-old kid. A lot has changed, y’know?”
“Not that much.” Rena was still his wife and Rosie would always be his little girl. Jake was right, but Grant saw no purpose in admitting it.
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “So you never gave a thought to divorce? Starting over?”
“Not really.”
“Yeah? Then how do you explain that all-legs blonde I saw you with a year or so ago?”
He could only think of one woman who fit that description. “That was Eileen. She’s a partner at the firm. Married, with three kids. Trust me, that lunch was strictly business.”
Grant looked up, saw Linda eying her eldest son. Had she sensed trouble? She’d predicted Zach and Carla’s divorce long before they announced the bad news.
“I think your mom has something to tell you.”
Jake groaned and hung his head. “Sheesh. Help me think of something to explain what we were talking about.”
He slung an arm over Jake’s shoulder and walked him toward the deck. “Sorry, pal, you’re on your own this time.”
Hours later, with the family gone, he and Rena headed upstairs. Hair piled atop her head in a high ponytail, she’d donned a knee-length white cotton nightie and white socks. Another woman might look frumpy in a getup like that. Not Rena.
“I think I’ll read until I get sleepy,” she said, dropping onto the big chair beside the bed. “Unless the light will glare onto the TV screen.”
“It won’t.” He leaned closer to get a better look at the book. “I heard that has a pretty intense storyline,” he said, reading the title. “You’re not worried it’ll give you bad dreams?”
Rena’s gaze slid from his hand to his face. “It’s a novel.”
“And?”
“I’ve never had any trouble separating fact from fiction.”
There was a look in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before. Apprehension, maybe, with a tinge of anger. The women had spent a long time in the kitchen. Had she been on the receiving end of a cross-examination, too?
“Had a couple of interesting conversations lately,” he began.
She placed the book on the end table and turned to face him.
“Oh?”
“With your mom and dad—separately—when they were here for the weekend. And today, with Jake.”
“And these…conversations… Did my name come up?”
“You, m’dear, were at the heart of it all.”
Eyes closed, she inhaled a deep breath. “Oh, great. Just what you needed.” She met his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything that led up to today.”
Meaning if she hadn’t lost Rosie, they’d never have split up, and the reunion—with all the questions it aroused—wouldn’t have been necessary.
“Times like these, I wish you were more self-centered.”
“What!”
“No, seriously. Hear me out.” Grant scooted closer. “If you thought more about yourself and less about everybody else, you wouldn’t be so quick to take the blame for…for everything.”
She bit her lip.
“You aren’t, you know,” he continued. “To blame for everything, I mean.”
“True. I can’t be held responsible for today’s humidity. The country’s political climate isn’t my fault, either…”
“Be serious, okay? I’m trying to apologize here.”
“You? For what!”
He didn’t quite know how to take that. Had she meant to imply that apologies weren’t in his nature?
“I’m sorry, Rena. For all the ugly things I said. For every unfair accusation.”
“So you can be a hothead. So what. I’ve never been one of those people who does something stupid then looks for ways to blame others for it. I hope I’ll never be one of those people. I’m fully aware of what I did, of what it cost all of us.”
“Hon, I meant it when I said it’s ancient history. How many times do you need to hear that?”
Lips and eyes narrowed, she said, “Until you can honestly say you forgive me.”
Grant had half expected her to apologize for dredging up the topic that made him so uncomfortable. For making him echo those tired old reassurances, yet again. But he hadn’t expected her to say that.
The quiet tick of the mantel clock reverberated in the otherwise silent room.
She’d never asked anything of him. Not when they were newlyweds, struggling to make ends meet. Not when her friends showed off big houses and new cars. Not when his job demanded late hours and put the household chores on her shoulders. Not even when lengthy business trips left her solely responsible for Rosie’s care.
Rena had asked him to honestly forgive her. But he’d done that. Hadn’t he?
The clock counted off another minute.
If he’d said it, she wouldn’t have asked him to repeat it.
Grant leaned into the sofa’s cushions and stared at the ceiling. How hard would it be to say those words? Say them so she believed he meant it? Because he did mean it.
Didn’t he?
Somehow, he had to find a way to clear his head of that call from Detective Campbell, telling him that his three-year-old child had been abducted while her mother stood not five feet away. That, he decided, had always been the sticking point. No matter what else he told himself, Grant’s mind always zeroed in on the cop’s rough voice, telling him what no parent wanted to hear.
Rena hadn’t heard those words. She’d been there in the thick of it. And when he showed up on the scene, and she ran to him for comfort…
Grant grimaced, remembering how he’d held her at arm’s length. If the place hadn’t been crawling with cops, TV cameras and spectators, he might have let her have it with both barrels.
He grimaced again, because despite telling himself, over and over, that she’d been a good wife and a terrific mother, that had taken a back seat to his belief that if she'd been on the ball that day…
She deserved the truth. She’d earned the truth. But he had some work to do first—on his attitude and the reasons for it—before he could deliver.
Another minute clicked by.
“Rena…” Grant managed to get her name past his lips, but nothing more. Maybe at some point between the kidnapping and now, he’d lost his mind. How else was he to explain that he loved this woman more than life itself, yet couldn’t give her the only thing she’d ever asked of him.
“It’s all right. I understand.”
It was the same sweet, tender voice that had soothed Rosie when she woke with a bad dream.
“Don’t torture yourself,” she added.
She’d turned her head, no doubt hoping to keep him from seeing the tears shimmering in her big eyes. Rena had been so strong and brave, even during those first hours after Rosie went missing. She’d held it together because he couldn’t. Only when the house was dark and she thought he was asleep had she released her pent-up heartache, night after night. Grant didn’t think he’d ever heard grief like that, so raw and deep that her sobs, muffled by the pillow, shook the bed. As her sorrow poured out, he’d lain stiff and silent on his own side of the mattress, so lost in his own misery that he couldn’t bring himself to comfort her.
Grant squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. If only he could put aside all the bad feelings to do right by her.
Rena got up and sat beside him, and it wasn’t until she gently wiped the tears from his cheeks that he realized he was crying. She wrapped her arms around him and began to rock to and fro. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s okay. You’re fine. We’re fine.”
Burrowing his face into the crook of her neck, he inhaled the soft scent of her skin. “I…I’m glad you’re here.”
How pathetic was he, Grant asked himself, that he could say anything except “I forgive you.”