AFTER AN HOUR of tossing and turning, Grant decided to get up. He slipped into the shirt he’d hung on the bedpost earlier and padded downstairs.
In the kitchen, he debated whether to have a piece of cake or a slice of pie. Neither seemed the smart choice, especially since he wasn’t the least bit hungry.
So he opened the back door, wincing when it released its usual high-pitched squeal. Tomorrow, after he got home from work, he’d take care of that. For now, he chose to let it stand ajar rather than risk waking Rena or Rosie by shutting it all the way.
The sticky July air had cooled considerably since the family left. The deck chairs glistened with dew, so he leaned into the railing and stared into the yard. A cloud slid in front of the moon, leaving just enough light to cast shadows on the precise rows he’d mowed into the lawn that morning. “Looks like the field at Camden Yards,” Rena had said when he finished.
The grass was cool and damp under his bare feet, and made quiet hissing sounds as he made his way deeper into the yard. He needed to take care where he walked, because Zach had brought Barney, his German shepherd pup to the get-together. He’d promised to clean up the dog’s droppings, but Zach being Zach, he’d probably overlooked a few. And wouldn’t that just top off the night.
Should’ve grabbed the flashlight on your way out, he thought. Not only to look for Barney’s leavings, but to zero in on whatever had ducked under the shed earlier. As he neared the back fence, the aroma of Rena’s roses grew stronger. His mom was a die-hard member of the garden club, but not even she tolerated the pricks and scratches of caring for roses the way Rena did. She had endless patience with the plants, spritzing them with special chemicals to prevent black spot and kill aphids. He’d done his best to preserve them while she was gone, but his heart just hadn’t been in it. Three of the eighteen shrubs she’d so lovingly planted had died. Rena hadn’t said anything about it, but Grant knew she’d noticed.
The tree frogs quieted as he drew closer to the big oak, and the owl that made its home in the white pines behind the shed stopped hooting. “Sorry to disturb you, guys, but don’t worry. I won’t be out here long.”
What exactly was he doing, standing in the middle of his yard at two in the morning, wearing nothing but boxers and a button-down shirt talking to the wildlife?
A mosquito buzzed his head. He waved it away and turned, made his way back to the deck and lit a couple of the citronella candles Rena had positioned on the tables. Surrounded now by the acrid scent, he felt an immediate calm.
Until something furry brushed his bare leg. He’d been in the Marines long enough to stop himself from jumping up or flinching. Grant looked down into the green-eyed face of a calico cat.
“Hey, girl,” he said, extending a finger. The cat sniffed it, then sat on its haunches, satisfied, for the moment at least, to look at him.
“I say girl, ’cause I hear only one percent of calicos are males.”
Squinting, the cat loosed a prickly meow.
“Laryngitis?”
Silence. And then it licked its lips.
“Hungry?”
Another peculiar meow.
“If you don’t mind leftovers, I’ve got a burger inside just waiting to be eaten.”
He could almost hear his mom, warning him never to feed a stray. “You’ll never get rid of it,” she’d probably say. “Besides, it’s probably riddled with fleas and ticks. God only knows what you might catch from the scraggly beast.”
When Grant returned to the deck, he half expected the cat to be gone. But there it sat, exactly where it had been when he went inside. He pinched a bean-sized chunk from the patty and, dropping it into his upturned palm, held it near the cat’s face. When the burger was gone, he straightened and wiped his hand on his boxers.
“So,” Grant said, “mi jardin es su jardin?”
Again, silence.
“I take it you don’t speak Spanish. Allow me to translate—‘My yard is your yard.’”
The cat licked its lips again.
“Thirsty?”
More silence.
Grant went back inside and came out carrying a small bowl of water. Mere moments of quiet slurping and the bowl was empty.
He made himself comfortable in the nearest chair, propped an ankle on a knee. Even in the dim glow of the candles, he noticed the cat’s matted fur. A chunk missing from one ear. What appeared to be a slow-healing wound on her right foreleg. And a distinct crook in the tip of its tail. Still, clean and brushed, she was probably a decent-looking animal. Tomorrow, if she was still hanging around, he’d find a box and transport her to the vet’s office on Route 108. Howard County boasted a no-kill shelter. Once the poor thing had a bath—and whatever else the vet saw fit—he’d bring it there. It was the least he could do.
Yawning, Grant stood. “Sorry, cat, but six a.m. comes early. Feel free to cozy up under the shed. There’s a bale of hay under there, left over from my seeding frenzy last fall. But you probably already know that.”
As if she’d understood every word, the cat made her way toward the shed, stopping a few yards from the deck to glance over its shoulder. Something about her lost, lonely, tentative look reminded him of Rena…
He closed the door behind him, grimacing again at the ear-piercing squeal, then locked up and tiptoed through the family room on his way to bed.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Rena asked from her seat on the family room sofa.
“What’re you doing up?”
“I’ll blame the chocolate cake so close to bedtime.”
Grant sat on the edge of the cushion farthest from hers. “Maybe that’s my problem, too. It’s weird… I’m exhausted but not the least bit sleepy.” He looked over at her. “I don’t remember feeling this way after other family gatherings.”
“We’re older now.” She smiled. “We have limitations.”
The air conditioner kicked in, and as cool air pumped out of the vent above his head, Grant shivered. He could warm up in no time if he moved closer to Rena…
“Rosie and I need to be at the school by two. If you can, why not meet us there?”
Grant mulled that over for a minute and decided that if he couldn’t say “I forgive you” the least he could do was show some faith in her.
“I’ve got a new client coming in,” he said, “so I doubt I can get away in time. But you can handle things with the principal and guidance counselor. You can tell me all about it over supper.”
She only nodded. Then, after a while, Rena said, “What were you doing outside?”
Grant shook his head. “Darn that squeak. I’ve been meaning to oil that door for months. Tomorrow, it gets done.” He raised a hand, as if taking an oath. “For sure.”
“Did the fresh air help calm you?”
“Not even a little.”
Her soft laughter warmed him. Not as much as snuggling close to her might, but it would do. For now. He'd never loved small talk, but tonight, it felt right. Comfortable.
He considered telling her about the cat, but thought better of it. No sense worrying her about a possibly diseased animal infecting their girl. On the other hand…
“One last thing, and then I’m gonna head upstairs.”
“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word.
“I was talking to Joe the other day…” The older man lived on the other side of Tina’s house.
“How’s he doing since his bypass? I haven’t seen him in the yard.”
“He seemed fine. Back to fishing and puttering in his vegetable garden. But anyway, he said something about feral cats living at the back of his lot. Thought we oughta keep an eye out, make sure Rosie knows not to touch them.”
“Good idea. We wouldn’t want her coming down with cat scratch fever or anything.”
“Definitely not. Well, g’night, Rena.”
“Sleep well.”
“You coming upstairs soon?”
She held up the book she’d been reading. “One more chapter…”
“Okay then. See you in the morning.”
* * *
WHILE THE GUIDANCE counselor gave Rosie a tour of the school, the principal sat behind her desk, listening intently as Rena spelled out the reasons why her daughter had neither a student transcript nor an immunization record.
“We do know that she was homeschooled,” Rena offered. “Rosie hasn’t shared much else about her time in Chicago, though.”
“I can’t even imagine what you and your husband have been through these past few years. Rosie, too,” Mrs. Kingston said. “My heart just aches for your family.”
Rena didn’t want the woman’s pity. She only needed the promise that her daughter would be well taken care of here at Sentinal.
Kingston scribbled something on a notepad. “I’m sure you’ve already scheduled a doctor’s visit to see which shots she may have been given and which she might need. While you see to those details, we’ll take care of testing to see which grade level will be most comfortable for her.” She picked up the pen again and used the capped end to shove her eyeglasses higher on her nose. “Speaking of doctors, I presume Rosie’s seeing a therapist?”
“Yes. Dr. Danes. Once a week. The visits will continue until he feels she doesn’t need them anymore.”
Kingston added that to her list. “Good to know. If you’ll leave me his contact information, I’ll pass it to Ms. Gilmore, just in case she needs to discuss anything with him. I’ll be honest with you, Rena—we’ve never dealt with a situation like Rosie’s before. But as long as we all work as a team, I see no reason to expect problems.”
Rena nodded. She only hoped the principal was right.
Kingston slid a crisp new file folder from the cabinet behind her. She printed VanMeter, Rosalie on its tab then tucked in the documents Rena had provided, along with the enrollment paperwork.
“We can give her a few tests today, if you have time, to assure proper placement.”
“That’ll be fine.” One less thing to contend with later.
A soft knock interrupted the meeting.
“Are we disrupting anything?” asked the guidance counselor.
“Not at all. Come right in.” Kingston stood and waved Ms. Gilmore and Rosie into the office. “We were just discussing the tests that will help us determine which class Rosie should be in.”
“Tests?” Rosie sounded as alarmed as she looked. “Today?”
“It’s no big deal, sweetie,” the counselor said. “And it won’t take a long time, either.” She winked. “We want to make sure you get the very best teacher, you know?”
Rosie clasped and unclasped her hands. Had she spent enough time with Rena to pick up the nervous habit, or was it an inherited trait? Fortunately, they had decades to find the answer to that one.
“So what do you think of our school, Rosie?” Kingston asked.
She met the principal’s eyes. “It’s very nice. I like the pictures on the walls. And the way you painted the hallways such bright colors.” She paused, stared at her fisted hands and added, “The floors are very clean and shiny, too, and I didn’t see a single fingerprint on the silver things in the cafeteria. My other mother was very fussy about things like that.”
If she was unsettled by Rosie’s mention of Barbara, Kingston didn’t show it.
“My, you’re quite an observant girl, and very complimentary, too.” Opening the top drawer of the filing cabinet beside her desk, the principal pulled forms from several folders and handed them to the counselor. “Might be best to let her fill these out in one of the empty classrooms, so she won’t be distracted by the custodian or the painting crew in the halls.”
Gilmore held out her hand and waited for Rosie to take it. “I’ll get you settled,” she said, leading her from the office, “and then I’ll scour that big fridge in the cafeteria, see if I can’t scare up a Rosie-sized carton of juice.”
Halfway to the door, Rosie tugged her hand free and hurried to Rena’s side. “Can you sit with me while I take the tests, Mom?”
Rena smiled, thrilled by the invitation. But the principal answered in her stead. “How about if we all meet up afterward,” she suggested. “I want to show your mom around. I’m sure she’d love to see where you’ll be spending your days.”
Seemingly unfazed by the woman’s smile, a cross between friendly and authoritative, Rosie held her ground.
Rena cupped her daughter’s chin. “I’ll be right outside the classroom door. I promise.”
If she’d blinked, Rena never would have seen the flicker of doubt in her little girl’s eyes. It hurt far more than she cared to admit, but this was the price she had to pay for looking away when Rosie had needed her most. Time and patience, she reminded herself, along with consistency, would prove her reliability. Until then, she’d just have to deal with the ache of knowing that her only child didn’t trust her.
Rena gave in to a maternal urge and hugged her, kissed her cheek. “You’re so smart,” she said, holding her at arm’s length. “I just know that when you're finished, you're going to tell me how easy those tests were!”
During her tour of the school, Rena asked the questions Rosie had posed to her over the past few weeks.
“Rosie has shown some interest in playing an instrument,” she said as they walked among music stands and folding chairs. “What’s the best way to find out which one she’d most enjoy?”
“Mr. Greene will evaluate her after school starts. He’s great with the kids. I’m always amazed at the talent he manages to cultivate, with the band and the orchestra, and the chorus, too. You might want to send him an email and set up a time to discuss it with him. I’ll send you home with a list of contact info for the teachers.”
Rena nodded. “That would be great. What about sports? Do Sentinal students compete with other schools in athletic events?”
“No, but we encourage physical activity, not only through our PE program, but in rallies and races and on the playground. She’ll no doubt enjoy our media and arts programs, too, but all that will be explained in the new student brochure I’ll send you home with.”
“Sounds good.” Rena hesitated. “This might seem like a silly question, but what kind of clothes do the kids wear? Rosie didn’t come home to us with many outfits.”
“Oh, we don’t have a lot of rules. No open-toed shoes, for obvious reasons. No hats indoors. No T-shirts that bear offensive language or pictures. Other than that, anything that’s age-appropriate should be just fine.”
“Good to know. Her grandmother and I—the one who lives next door—will take her shopping.”
“Sounds like fun.” Kingston’s pace slowed as she said, “Since Rosie was homeschooled, you might want to prepare her for sitting at a desk. Waiting to be recognized before talking in class. Paying attention to her teachers despite the distraction of fifteen or twenty other kids wriggling in their seats.” She stopped walking and lay a motherly hand on Rena’s wrist. “I hope we haven’t overwhelmed you.” She gave her wrist a slight squeeze. “If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
They entered the teachers’ lounge, where the principal offered Rena a cold bottle of water.
“I have a few phone calls to make,” she said, “but you’re welcome to wait here for Rosie to finish up.”
“I’d just as soon wait outside the classroom if that’s all right.” Because it was what she’d promised, and Rena didn’t want to let Rosie down.
“Of course. Stop by the office on your way out. I’ll have everything ready and waiting for you. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Rena thanked her, then made her way back down the hall. Earlier, the principal had paused outside the fifth grade classrooms. Rosie sat in one of them, pencil poised and brow furrowed as she concentrated on a column of math problems. Now, as Rena peered through the rectangular window, Rosie seemed to sense her presence. She looked up and sent Rena a tiny grin and a wave.
Half an hour later, the door opened. The counselor, carrying the test papers, led the way into the hall.
“You were right, Ms. Gilmore,” Rosie told her. “Those tests were pretty easy!”
“And you completed them in record time!” The young woman met Rena’s eyes. “I’ll call you first thing tomorrow with the results.”
As promised, they stopped by the office on their way to the parking lot. She’d half expected a thick packet of information, so the thin envelope was a pleasant surprise.
“Hey, Mom?” Rosie asked as she did up her seat belt.
Rena met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yes?”
“Will I be bringing my lunch, or buying it in the cafeteria?”
“A little of both, I expect. Maybe we’ll find a menu in this envelope. You can buy on days they’re serving things you like, and the rest of the time—”
“You’ll pack me a lunchbox?”
“You bet.”
“I’ve never had my own lunchbox before. Or a pencil case. Or a book bag. Or an umbrella. I’ll need all those things for my first day, right?”
“And then some. I have a feeling your teacher will send home a supply list.”
Rosie’s brow furrowed slightly as she processed everything.
“All buckled up?”
“Yeah.”
“Good girl.” Rena started the car. “Tomorrow, Grandma and I will take you shopping again.”
“Do I get to pick whatever I want?”
Rena glanced in the rearview again. Rosie looked every bit as incredulous as she sounded, a sign that Barbara had likely been a tough taskmaster.
“Of course! They’ll be your clothes, after all. And lucky us, we’re getting to the stores before the last-minute rush, so the selection should be good.”
They were pulling into the driveway when Rosie said, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Will I have to wear dresses to school?”
“Absolutely not. I pass by the school every few days, on my way to the post office and the bank. I’ve seen plenty of kids getting on and off their buses. They wear jeans and sweatpants, T-shirts…” She pulled into the garage. “Hey, I have an idea. How about if tonight, after supper, you and Dad and I get on the computer and browse the internet? That’ll give us an idea what to look for tomorrow.”
“Okay. I like that idea.” She unbuckled her seat belt and bounded from the back seat. “Will we get my school supplies tomorrow, too?”
“As many as we can. We won’t have a full list until we find out which teacher you’ll have, remember…”
“Oh, right.” Rosie shoved open the door between the garage and the kitchen. “I wish we could go today.”
“You promised to help Grandma with her birthday cake, remember?”
“Oh, right,” she said again.
Bless her heart, Rena thought, torn between disappointing her grandmother and disappointing herself. After hanging her purse on the hook near the door, Rena opened the bottom drawer of her kitchen desk and withdrew a notepad and pen.
“How about we start a list of all the things you’ll want to buy tomorrow. You can write them down while I’m getting supper started.”
Hopping onto a stool, Rosie printed Things to Buy for School across the top, then proceeded to fill the entire page within minutes, with very little input from Rena.
Rosie looked so content sitting there, muttering as she hunched over her list. Rena added red potatoes and onions to the roasting pan, picturing Grant sitting beside their girl, suggesting additional things she might need. The happy domestic image nearly brought tears to her eyes.
“Want to hear my list again?”
“I’d love to.” She sprinkled spices on the roast as Rosie recited, “Socks, underwear, sneakers, sweatshirts…” She paused, tapping the pen on her chin. “Are you going to make me wear undershirts when it gets cold out?”
“Yes, I will. Best way to stay warm is to keep your core nice and toasty.”
“Yeah. That makes sense.” She continued reading. “Bathing suit, sandals, a fall jacket and a winter coat, snow pants, a hat and mittens, and boots, too…” She paused again. “Do you think the stores will have cold weather stuff out yet?”
“I’m not sure. If they don’t, we’ll just have to go shopping again.”
“That makes sense, too.”
Rena wished Grant could see and hear her, making plans to fill her dresser and closet. Knowing him, he’d get teary-eyed.
The thought brought to mind what had happened last night. It had been the first time she’d seen him cry. Oh, he’d welled up from time to time: at his dad’s funeral; again when his grandfather passed. If she’d expected Grant to react that way, Rena never would have brought up the whole forgiveness issue. Better to continue living without it than put him through that, ever again. Still, it felt good that he trusted her enough to open up. If only she could hold him in her arms like that every night for the rest of their lives! Without the tears, of course.
The family room clock chimed three times. She’d promised to send Rosie to Tina’s no later than 3:30.
“Would you like to take your list to Grandma’s, show her all the things we’re going to buy tomorrow?”
“She might get scared of it!”
“Scared?” Rena laughed. “Why?”
“Because it’s going to take a long, long time to get all that stuff, and you know how fast Grandma gets tired.”
“We’ll walk slowly, and take plenty of breaks.”
“Like…for ice cream?”
Rena hugged her from behind. “Yes. Like for ice cream.” She kissed the top of Rosie’s head. “Now, why don’t you go upstairs and change into shorts and a T-shirt. And flip-flops. You don’t want to get flour and sugar all over your pretty sundress.”
Rosie hopped down from the stool and spun in a slow circle, delighting in the way the skirt billowed out. “It looks like an umbrella, doesn’t it, Mom?”
“Yes, it sort of does.”
“Why do they call it a sundress?”
“I suppose because we wear them in warm, sunny weather.”
“Yeah, makes sense.”
It seemed to Rena that a lot of things were beginning to make sense for Rosie. And their ordinary, everyday chatter gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, her little girl was beginning to trust her again.
“You’d better scoot. The sooner you get over there, the sooner you’ll get the baking done.”
“And the sooner I’ll get a chocolate chip cookie.”
“Exactly.”
Rena heard the girl’s footsteps, racing back and forth above the kitchen as she searched for a more casual outfit. And unless she was mistaken, Rosie was singing to herself, too.
Except for that quick mention in the principal’s office, she hadn’t said ‘my other mother’ in days, but Rena wasn’t fooling herself. Dr. Danes's words echoed in her head: “Sooner or later, everything she has repressed will surface. Could be a little at a time. Could be all at once. Get ready. It might not be pretty.”
But what if the doctor was mistaken? What if, instead of needing to vent about her former life, Rosie would rather file it away, deep in her memory, and simply accept that she was where she belonged, surrounded by people who’d love and protect her, always?
She slid the pot roast into the oven, set it to turn on in an hour. After tidying up, Rena flapped a linen cloth over the dining room table and, taking the good dishes from the china closet, arranged four place settings. Silver candlesticks completed the scene. Grant, Rosie and Tina would think it was all part of the birthday festivities. But as they talked about Rosie’s new school, Grant’s day at the office, tomorrow’s shopping trip and the weather, Rena could smile at the truth: it was her way of celebrating the warming relationship between her and Rosie.
Rosie skipped into the room, looking adorable in sparkly pink flip-flops and a lavender shorts set. “Wow,” she said, looking at the table, “is this supposed to be a surprise for Grandma?”
“Well, it is her birthday…”
She held a brush in one hand and purple elastic bands in the other. “Will you put braids in my hair?”
“You bet I will.”
Rosie perched on the leather ottoman in the family room, and Rena knelt behind her, thrilled by what others might consider a mundane motherly duty. When she finished, she returned Rosie’s brush. “I might have some purple ribbon in my sewing box. Want me to tie bows at the ends of your braids?”
“Sure. Do you still keep the basket in the laundry room, on the shelf above the washer?”
“Yes.”
“Bummer. I was going to get it for you, but it’s too high for me to reach.” She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly and, shoulders lifted, said “Guess you’ll just have to get it yourself.”
“You put your brush away and I’ll get the ribbon,” Rena said. “Meet you in the kitchen in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
Giggling, Rosie headed for the stairs, repeating Rena’s words with each step. “Two shakes of a lamb’s tail, two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Silliest thing I ever heard. Two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
She returned moments later with Mr. Fuzzbottom tucked under one arm. It surprised Rena, seeing Rosie with the bear during daylight hours. She and Grant had taken to calling the toy her cuddle buddy, since she fell asleep hugging it every night.
“Grandma said she made something for him,” Rosie said, answering Rena’s unasked question. “Probably a funny knitted hat or something.”
She walked to the door with her.
“You don’t have to take me over there, Mom. Grandma lives right next door. And I’m not a baby, remember.”
“I remember.” But I can’t let you out of my sight. At least, not until she could be absolutely certain that her girl had safely made her way into Grant’s mom’s house.
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll stand on the porch and watch until you get inside. Okay?”
Rosie tilted her head and thought it over. “Okay.” She looked left, to the O’Briens’ house, two doors down. Their kids were outside, laughing and shouting as they kicked a soccer ball back and forth.
“What are their names again?”
“Steven and Samantha.”
“Wish I could play with them.”
Logic told her that Rosie needed to spread her wings, test her limits and make new friends. But the idea of her going over there—maybe running out of sight as she joined in the revelry—struck fear in her heart.
“Tomorrow, maybe, when we get back from shopping.”
The Citerony twins were outside, too, squealing as they beaned one another with water balloons.
“Oh, man, that looks like fun,” Rosie said, smiling. “Bet it feels good, too. It’s so hot out.”
“I’ll make another deal with you,” Rena said. “Soon as I can, I’ll call the kids’ moms and arrange a playdate. They can all come over and swim in our pool. I’ll make everybody ice-cream cones.”
“Can we play with water balloons, too?”
“You bet. Now, you’d better get to Grandma’s before she comes over here and takes you over there, herself.”
With that, Rosie raced down the white-painted wood steps, braids bouncing as she crossed the strip of lawn that connected their yards. When she reached Tina’s door, she turned and hollered “See you in a little while, Mom!”
Tina loved Rosie almost as much as she and Grant did, and knowing their girl was in good hands, Rena waved and went inside. The quiet hum of the cooling system was strangely calming. It was at least ninety outside, and humid, but the house was a comfortable seventy degrees. “The guy who invented air conditioner is a hero,” Rena said to herself. It was a silly thought, but she treasured it, because she hadn’t felt happier or more content in years.
She checked the roast, and pulled out the ingredients for a special dessert. Yes, they’d have the cake Tina and Rosie were baking. Chocolate chip cookies, too. But Rena loved chocolate mousse, and this meal was more for her than Grant’s mom.
There wasn’t time to stand around daydreaming. She needed to shower and change her clothes. That way, if Tina arrived earlier than expected, she could make her feel useful, chopping salad fixings. She’d wear the coral sheath Grant had complimented in Chicago. The shoes, too. And if she could find them in the jewelry box she’d left behind, the beautiful silver wolf earrings and matching necklace he’d given her the Christmas before Rosie disappeared.
Maybe Grant was right and things really were coming together. He was back at work, not calling every hour to check on her as he had that first week. Rosie was enrolled in school and having a grand time baking with her grandmother next door.
It had been a long time since Rena had felt this hopeful…