I smirk. “I believe you already have a list for that.”
Eight Years Later
“Odie, you’re filthy.” My eyes bulge as I take in the sight of my four-year-old covered in mud from head to toe. Dashing toward me from the forest, her usually blond hair is caked with brown, and the only part of her that isn’t coated with dirt is her eyeballs.
Green and blue blink up at me innocently when she gets to the deck of the cabin. “But I’m safe and sound. Daddy said that’s all you’d care about.”
I sigh. “He’s right about that. Did you catch anything?”
Odette smiles, and she’s got the cutest little gap between her front teeth just like her father. “I got two. Daddy got a bunch.”
Preston steps up the stairs with a five-gallon bucket filled with creek water and our dinner. He’s in his rubber boots, wearing muddy jeans and a black tank top, and I swear he’s even sexier when he’s all grunged up.
Spending our summers at the cabin has become a tradition, and this is our third year hosting an annual family-and-friends reunion in July.
“We’ll have enough for dinner,” he says, setting the bucket down with a thud. “A good old fashioned fish fry.”
“I’ll tell Josiah and Cordelia they can stop worrying about going to town to get pizzas.”
Preston bends down to kiss me, and he smells of sweat, leather, citrus, and spice. “Is anyone else here yet?”
I nod. “Bridgette, Mason, and a cousin on the Marshall side. They’re all out front setting up their tents. Jay, Casey, and their kids should be arriving within an hour.”
“Can I go see Grandmas and Grandpas?” Odette hops up and down excitedly, and I’m torn between letting her go or hosing her off.
I want to protect her from everything, even some mud-borne infection.
I’m being silly.
Some dirt won’t hurt.
Surprisingly, motherhood has made me understand Loralee Pearson a little better. Because if my child died, I’d lose my mind, too. It doesn’t excuse her actions—I’d never take a kid from someone else—but her grief must’ve been unbearable and unending.
Sometimes I take comfort in the fact that I helped her through it. She needed me, and although I didn’t choose to be with her, I gave her fifteen years of relief from her pain.
Having a daughter has also helped me realize how much I meant to Bridgette and Mason when they adopted me.
The pain they suffered when they lost me.
How much I still mean to them now.
The strangers who took me in when I was nineteen and traumatized have become my family. They’re the parents I’ve always wanted, and they’re amazing grandparents.
“Mommy? Did you hear me?”
I shake thoughts of the past from my head and answer my daughter, “Yeah, but stay with an adult at all times. Don’t go wa—”
“Wandering off in the forest,” the cheeky little thing finishes for me. “I know, I know.”
I unbuckle her pink harness and let it drop to the deck.
Okay, so I always insist she wear a leash when she’s by the creek. I’m not completely comfortable with the idea of my child going fishing around the same age I disappeared. I know Preston will always watch her, but there are some fears a mother can’t let go of when it comes to her child.
Knowing we don’t want mud tracked into the cabin when we’re expecting company, Odette skips down the steps and runs around the outside of the house. I crane my neck to watch through the windows and breathe easier when I see she’s been intercepted by Grandpa Mason.
Some of the dirt transfers to his white T-shirt.
Grimacing, I glance at Preston. “They’re going to think we’ve been letting her run around like that all summer.”
“That’s what cabin life is all about.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head. “But I need to clean up. Don’t want our entire family to think I’ve gone feral out here.”
I grin slowly. “You are feral.”
“I will be tonight.” Preston waggles his eyebrows, making me giggle like the girl he once rescued from the attic. “Odie’s gonna stay in Bridgette and Mason’s tent, which means you and I have the squeaky mattress all to ourselves.”
Humming, I cup Preston’s hard cock. “Can’t wait.”
Looking like he wants to drag me into the trees and have his way with me right now, Preston reluctantly slinks through the back door.
Maybe I’ll get pregnant again. Today could be our lucky day.
Unfortunately, I’ve had some fertility issues. We realized it after about eleven months of trying. At first, we thought it was the stress of the trial with Donovan—who ultimately got sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole—but even after all the chaos of that was over, I didn’t get pregnant.
The doctor said my body fat content was too low and my hormones were out of control. Also, vitamin deficiencies were a problem. To put it plainly, my system was out of whack.
I needed time.
And time is what Preston gave me.
After getting permission from the Marshalls, we went to live at the cabin for a while. Our little piece of heaven on Earth. The two years following our move here were some of the best of my life. With Preston’s savings, neither of us had to work, though we used our free time for school. I started taking classes for a forensic science degree, and Preston studied criminal justice.
Once I got pregnant, we moved back to Detroit to be close to family and hospitals. On a sunny Friday morning, Odette Francine Walker was born. One look at her, and a dormant part of my heart unlocked. I didn’t know it was possible to have so much love for something so tiny, but I was obsessed from the moment I laid eyes on my daughter.
Everything made sense because of her.
In the weeks following her birth, I felt an immense gratitude for all the trials and tribulations I’d been through. No matter how hard life had been, it all led me to her.
Since I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, I quit college a year and a half short of finishing. I plan to go back someday, but at the moment, I’m happy with the way things are.
And if Preston and I don’t have any more babies, I’m okay with that, too. Odie is getting older now. Easier. More independent. She’s at a fun age, and since she doesn’t take naps anymore, we get out of the house a lot while Preston’s at work.
A few years ago, he started up his PI business again. He’s still freelance, but he works closely with the FBI. Jen has made it her mission to find other kids like me—kids who might’ve been stolen and cared for, but once they grow up, they have questions. There’s a DNA database dedicated to finding them, which was funded by a large donation from Ivan (who I comfortably call Dad now). Only two matches have been made in the Midwest so far, but that’s two cases solved.
Maybe once I’ve gotten my degree, I can join in.
Stepping inside the cabin, I glance out the front window and make sure Odette’s still occupied. Looks like Nana Cordelia has assigned her with the task of setting up the potluck food on the picnic table, so I move toward the bathroom.
Yeah, we have an actual bathroom now.
The cabin had to undergo some renovations when we moved in.