Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(87)

“Would anyone like some fresh fruit?” Elsa asks as she sets the cups into saucers waiting on the table, careful not to spill the scalding water. “I have some berries…”

“I love berries!” Renny exclaims over the rim of her milk cup.

“You sure do.” Elsa goes promptly to the fridge, takes out a container, and starts to carry it over to the sink. “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Brett asks, seeing her stop in her tracks.

“They’re moldy. They’re organic,” she adds hastily, with a worried glance at the caseworker. “They never last long enough.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Cavalon. Actually, I don’t have much time today anyway. I was thinking that I could take Renata out for a bit this morning so that we can get to know each other.”

“Oh…” Elsa looks at Brett. She can read his mind: he’s thinking the same thing she is.

We have to let her go.

This, they both know, is how the system works. Unannounced visits. Private outings and conversations between the social worker and child.

“We’re so close to finalization, Mr. and Mrs. Cavalon…I’m hoping we can get this paperwork pushed through in the next couple of days.”

Elsa’s breath catches in her throat.

Finalization.

Adoption.

It’s really going to happen.

Not overnight, of course, but once the paperwork is finalized, the agency interaction will all but cease—and so will their power to arbitrarily take Renny away. It’ll just be a matter of time until it’s made legal with an adoption hearing in court.

Elsa opens her mouth, but can’t seem to find her voice.

“That would be…” Brett clears his throat, sounding hoarse himself. “Wow. That would be absolutely great.”

“I know you’re going to be a wonderful family.” Melody Johnson, a statuesque, beautiful blonde, smiles at the three of them and stretches out her hand. “Come on, Renata. It’s a beautiful day.”



When no one picked up Lauren’s home phone, Marin tried her cell, but got no answer there, either.

Now what?

“Talk about helpless…you need help just finding help,” she whispers aloud, forcing a grim little smile.

She can’t, given her circumstances, just start dialing random psychiatrists’ numbers. She knows better than to trust just anyone; she needs someone who comes highly recommended; someone guaranteed not to betray her family’s privacy.

Clearly, people are still interested in the Quinns. Look what happened just yesterday, when Marin was ambushed on the street with a camera.

Okay…so, no Lauren.

Her next step was going to be confronting Caroline, but maybe she should wait a little while, just so she has a plan in place when she approaches her daughter. Maybe, if she gets a couple of names from Lauren, she can even call and get an appointment right away, and tell Caroline about it.

Yes. A concrete plan. That’s the way to go.

For now, she just has to settle back and wait.

Setting the phone on the bedside table, she shoots a longing glance at the orange prescription bottle sitting beside it.

No.

She looks at it.

But why not?

Suddenly, she can’t remember.

Here you are thinking you’re helpless, and you’re not. Not at all. Sleep always helps.

She picks up the bottle.

If she took a couple of pills, she could rest for a while. She’s going to need all her energy for what lies ahead.

Yes.

Marin carries the bottle into the bathroom, flips on the light, and turns on the water. Waiting for it to run cold, she catches a glimpse of her face in the mirror.

Once again, she’s struck by her reflection—and she remembers all the reasons why not.

She turns off the water abruptly, whispering, “No.”

She unscrews the plastic childproof cap, opens the toilet lid, and holds the open bottle over the bowl.

Go ahead. Get rid of them.

It’s absolutely what she should do—dump these pills, and the ones still tucked away in her bedside drawer. It’s the only way to guarantee that she won’t take them—and with Ron and Heather out of the country, she won’t have access to more.

Hurry up and do it, before you change your mind.

A moment later, she returns to the bedroom and jerks open the bedside drawer.

She hesitates only a moment before dropping the bottle beside the others and closing the drawer.

Just in case.

Just so you won’t be helpless.



Every time Lauren comes back home after leaving her children at home alone, she flashes back to the nightmare last August, when she stepped over the threshold and found that they had disappeared.

Some scars, she knows, might never fully heal, and yet…

She looks at Nick’s mom, holding the door open for her. “Come on in.”

“Thank you. What a beautiful home.”

“Anyone home?” she calls.

Three bedroom doors burst open overhead; three sets of footsteps pound down the stairs, and she smiles.

Truer words have never been spoken.

It’s a beautiful home.



“You said yourself you wished we could get Renny out of here for a bit,” Brett reminds Elsa, watching her pace to the window again to look out into the street.