Chapter 9-
A/N: The next two people that are going to be in Hope's life are like the Kent's of Smallville. They'll help Hope as she is going to have an injury from the sidewalk that she had hit hard.
Tom Browner and his wife, Chelsea, had just gotten home from the store as the young girl collapsed in the road. Tom hit his brakes hard to keep from hitting her and the truck squealed to a halt.
Tom and Chelsea bolted out of their seats and all but ran to the young girl, who was unconscious. "Tom, who is she?" Chelsea asked as she took the young girl in her arms and cradled her like she would have if their daughter had lived.
"I don't know. She can't be any older than twelve or thirteen. And it looks as if she came from the direction of New York City," Tom said, wondering if he should use his cell phone and call an ambulance.
"Do you think she'll be all right?" Chelsea asked, stroking the girl's dark hair gently.
"I think so. She looks to have bruised her shoulder some and there's a gash right here, but they should heal," Tom said, looking at the deep gash by her left eyebrow and her shoulder. The girl wore a strapless lavender dress so the bruise was showing.
"What should we do with her?" Chelsea quavered.
"Let's take her to the hospital. Whatever is wrong with this little girl a doctor needs to examine her," Tom said, picking up the girl in his arms and putting her in the car.
Chelsea held the girl in her arms as Tom drove. "I wish we could keep her. She looks like a very sweet girl," Chelsea said regretfully.
"Chels, this isn't like an animal found on the side of the road. We need to find out where she's from. Her mother and father must be scared for her," Tom said firmly. Little did he know, he was right.
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Reed, Johnny, and Ben had stayed up all night, combing the city as Sue and Ben's wife, Alicia, sat and waited. It was daybreak when the three men came into the Baxter Building worn out and tired.
Sue ran up to her husband, and hugged him. "Judging from the look on your face, you didn't find her," Sue commented.
"No. We've looked all over the city and a few of the suburbs," Reed said, sinking down onto the sofa in despair.
"Reed, you'll find her. You can't give up," Alicia said, touching Reed's shoulder gently.
"It's all my fault. I should have seen that I was smothering her. I wanted to protect her and keep her safe from people like Victor," Reed said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"Reed, Hope knows you love her. We'll find her," Sue said, wrapping her arms around Reed and stroking his dark hair gently.
"Why don't you blame me for this?" Reed asked.
"What's the point, Reed? I was angry at you when you said that you couldn't find Hope. She was only trying to help and you belittled her and put her down. Then I realized I was at fault as much as you were. I could have stood up for her more," Sue said.
"Sue, I'm sorry," Reed said, his voice cracking.
"I'm sorry too. Let's just find our daughter," Sue said, not realizing that was going to be difficult.
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The girl had woken up in the middle of the doctor gently probing her head. She opened her eyes slowly and groaned as she put one hand on her head. "Are you okay, young lady?" The doctor asked a concerned look in his blue eyes.
"I think so. Where am I?" She asked sluggishly.
"You don't know?" Chelsea asked.
"No. I'm not even sure who I am," the girl said, closing her eyes briefly.
"You're about an hour away from New York City. You collapsed in front of our truck," Tom supplied. This girl was confused. Her face was evident of that.
"My head hurts," the girl said.
"That's to be expected with head injuries. Also memory loss is common with head injuries also," the doctor said, applying a bandage to the gash on her head.
"What's going to happen to her?" Chelsea wanted to know as the girl fell asleep.
"Foster care I would think. But that would be until we can find out who she is," the doctor said, putting away some medicine.
"Why don't we keep her until you find out who she is?" Chelsea asked, smoothing back the girl's dark hair.
"Chelsea, she has parents somewhere. Like I said, she's not like a dog or cat you find out there on the highway," Tom said sternly.
"Please, Tom. She shouldn't have to be in this hospital or in a foster home," Chelsea begged.
"What do you think, Doctor?" Tom asked, looking toward the doctor.
"I see no problem with it. Knowing the foster care system, she'll be shuffled around from place to place. She'll have a stable life with you and Chelsea," the doctor said.
"All right, but only until we find her family or where she came from," Tom said, finally relenting.
"What are we going to call her?" Chelsea asked.
"Why don't we wake until she wakes up again? She might remember her name by then," Tom suggested.
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The girl was released after a night of observation. She was still slightly fuzzy-headed and couldn't remember what had happened after she had collapsed in front of the Browner's truck.
As soon as they got to their farm five miles from the hospital Chelsea gave the girl a bath and dressed her in sweatpants and one of Tom's t-shirts. Then she led her downstairs to get some food in her.
"You look better," Tom commented. The girl's dress had to be thrown away as it had blood and mud all over it. Now her face was all clean and her dark hair was drying. True, Tom's shirt and old sweats was too big on her, but they would do until they got her some clothes that fit. If she was going to stay that long.
"Are you hungry?" Chelsea asked gently.
"Yes, Ma'am," the girl said as she sat down in a chair.
Chelsea fixed a bowl of her savory stew and set it before the girl with a huge glass of milk. The girl all but shoveled it into her mouth, not even bothering to cool it. "Now, do you remember anything?" Tom asked, sitting in the chair next to her.
The girl concentrated hard before answering. "I don't know. It's fuzzy," she said, wrinkling her forehead.
"Do you know what you were doing out on the bridge?" Chelsea asked, refilling her milk glass.
The girl shook her head. "Which direction did I come from?" She asked as Chelsea gave her a second helping of stew.
"New York City. Judging from the dress that we had to throw away you were at a formal party," Tom said.
"No. It was a dance," the girl said, biting her lower lip then gasped.
"You remember that?" Chelsea asked.
"I'm pretty positive. I also think it was unusual for me to even be there. That for some reason I didn't normally go to dances," the girl said, nodding her head.
"Well, let's try and figure that out," Tom said, patting her shoulder gently. He hoped the girl remembered more. She was probably right when she said she was at a dance. Most girls didn't like formal dinners. He just hoped that he could find out who this girl was before Chelsea got too attached to her. Chelsea loved kids and if she started liking this girl they would be adopting this girl before long.
