~ oOo ~
Uh, yeah, so, another early update. I'm sure you're
not complaining after that mean cliffie though!
Longest chapter so far! 6656 without the summary or title, EEK!
So, some of you were mad with me (Scarlett) for her plan
to leave Marley at a hospital. I totally understand - I was
mad with me too when the idea cropped up. Let's not forget
though, Scarlett and Rosalie are mega overwhelmed, in pain,
exhausted, and experiencing a sort of quasy freedom for the first time in over
twelve years - they're not thinking clearly, and they're all-too-aware
that Garrett is still out there. I'm not saying Scarlett's decision
would be mine, but it is hers to make, so I'll let you read on and see
what happens. Please just hang tight and remember...
EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING THE WAY IT IS FOR A REASON.
I promised a HEA, and now I'm making you another promise -
that happy ever after? It will definitely include Marley!
~ oOo ~
Summary: When two little girls were allowed to walk
home from school one bright spring day nobody could've
predicted the events that followed. The way two families
were torn apart by the vendetta of a deranged man.
Nearly twelve years on, we'll watch as the two girls stolen
away from their homes at eight years old fight to take
back their lives. If only it were as simple as escaping. AU
Pinky Promises
Chapter Seven
Weak, early-morning sun bathed the houses on Percival Road in its soft light. The front lawn glistened with a mixture of dew and leftover rain from the night before, the driveways damp but also dry where cars had protected them. A gate banged shut in the wind just down the street, a dog barking his protest from a garden on the opposite side of the road. With the sun only just peeking over the horizon the light from inside one of the houses was even more noticeable, the windows glowing like a firefly in a jar. In the kitchen, two men paced restlessly, switching between forcing themselves into seats at the table and circling the island.
"This'll drive me crazy. What time is it?" Peter Hale was the first to crack, glancing up at the clock through tented fingers.
"A full four minutes since you asked last time. Five forty-two."
The men shared a glance. In any other life they would have grinned, maybe even laughed. Not this one. Not now, when they were anxiously waiting for a call from the FBI. The last either of them had been told was that an agent would be in touch shortly. That was at four a.m., a full hour and forty minutes previous.
The sudden opening and slamming of the front door had both men turning swiftly to face the doorway joining the kitchen to the hallway. A tall, dark, curly haired man appeared there, panting with a young boy under one arm, a baby in the other, and a holdall slung over his shoulder.
"Is it true? I only just got your message."
Archie Swan shuddered the last of the cool air off as warmth soaked through his t-shirt and joggers. After working the night shift as a security guard at a shopping center in Eastbourne, he'd just walked in the door when he remembered his phone had beeped with a message an hour or so before. His colleague had accidentally tripped an alarm, so he'd forgotten about the incoming message while investigating. After listening to his dad's rambling message he'd stood, stock-still, in the hallway of his house for a good couple of minutes before the sleepy mumblings of the boy in his arms brought him back to reality. The words still hadn't sunk in, even though his phone was laying at the floor at his feet, unimportant in light of what his voicemail had revealed.
Could it be true? Unsure of whether he'd been dreaming, or his mind was playing tricks, Archie could only think of one thing that would really convince him. What would normally be a fifteen minute journey was turned into just under ten and found him staring pleadingly at his dad and the man he'd known his entire life as Uncle Pete, desperate for this to be real. For Scarlett and Rosalie to have been found.
Charlie swallowed heavily, glancing at Peter before facing his grown-up son and two young grandsons. He strode across the room to clasp his shoulders, mindful of the six-year-old asleep on his hip and the baby against his chest.
"I wouldn't lie to you, not about this, son."
Blue-green eyes met chocolate brown as he added, "they've found them, Arch. They're alive."
Slowly but surely Archie's brain wrapped around the concept that his hope for all these years hadn't been for naught. All six-foot-two of him began to shake as tears spilled over his cheeks and splashed a mop of curly black hair against his t-shirt. Three hearts thundered in the silent kitchen, Archie's soft whimper the only sound to break the quiet.
"Pass them here, Archie."
Archie unthinkingly passed his sleeping youngest son to Peter before laying his eldest, carefully so as not to wake him, on the loveseat nearby before burying himself into his father's waiting embrace. He may have been almost twenty-eight years old, but when it came to the disappearance of his younger sister and the girl he'd always held in the same regard, Archie had never been one to shy away from his emotions. He was just sixteen when they'd been snatched away, two people he freely admitted were his best friends despite their gender and age. He never imagined then that it would be well over twelve years until any new information was found.
It hadn't occurred to him even once that he'd be a father twice over before he was a brother again.
Sniffling loudly, he pulled away from Charlie, holding his shoulder tightly. A few deeps breaths later, his dark eyes landed on the baby snuggled against Peter's chest, content and safe wrapped in his godfather's arms, then the boy snoring on the sofa. As though knowing he was being watched, Archie's son stirred and stretched two tittle arms out before settling back to look up at Peter's face, as he was standing the closest, with a slight, sleepy, adorable frown.
"Uncle Petey? Whe-uh's Daddy?"
"Daddy's here, champ." At the sound of his dad's voice, his head spun to the side. A bright, toothy grin spread across his face as he clambered off the sofa and ran to Archie, happy to be scooped up for a hearty hug.
"Daddy!"
Archie wasn't ashamed to admit that he teared up again while listening to his boy's giggles.
"Carl-Roman!" He mimicked playfully, peppering his son's face with kisses just to get more soul-healing laughter. It soothed his racing heart at the same time as it set his mind back on some sort of even keel. Carl-Roman rolled his eyes, pushing Archie's cheeks together so his lips were puckered eyes crinkled wetly as he tried to smile. "Ge'roff, 'amp!"
Carl-Roman's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with joy. He'd spent the night sleeping on the sofa in his daddy's office, he was his usual bright, alert self. "You sound silly, Daddy."
Charlie reached up to wipe at his eyes before chuckling and catching his grandson's attention. "You got that right, champ. Now what do you say to some breakfa—"
Before he could finish his question, his phone lit up with the name ' ', dancing across the chocolate brown marbled counter. A mug of cold, untouched coffee sitting nearby shivered as a result of the vibrations, sending circular swirls rippling through the liquid. Three men stared at the phone for long, silence-filled seconds before an impatient boy harrumphed, sounding every bit like his paternal grandfather.
"Pawpaw, are you gonna get that? I wanna have some choc'late hoops?"
Archie shared a look with his dad, then shifted his son and directed his focus towards breakfast while Charlie answered his phone.
"Swan."
"There's going to be a car on your doorstep at exactly seven a.m., your time, tomorrow morning. You and Peter Hale need to get in it. It will take you to the airport and there'll be an officer there to meet you with more information," Riley Lawrence explained swiftly in his now-familiar New York accent. He breathed out heavily, the tell-tale sounds of activity muffled through the phone line.
Charles inhaled sharply. "Are they ok? What's going on? Are they safe?"
"I'm sorry, Charlie, I really need you to trust me on this one. Can you be patient for just a little while longer until I can explain everything in person?"
Charlie's eyes flicked upwards to Peter's expectant expression, to Archie ruffling the hair of the little boy named after the his aunts. It had been over twelve years since he and his best friend had seen their daughters.
He sucked in a shuddery breath, tugging at graying hair. Of all the people who'd taken on their case, Riley Lawrence was the man whose hard work had paid off. It was because of him and his team they finally knew what their hearts had been telling them all this time – the girls were alive. They were in America, thousands of miles away, but they were alive.
So, even though it killed him, Charlie sighed. "We want answers as soon as we get to you. I mean that. We've waited long enough."
Riley agreed wholeheartedly, tacking a reminder that the car would be there at exactly seven a.m. tomorrow to his 'goodbye' before hanging up.
"Well?" Peter asked, anxious. Seeing the ache in his eyes for good news, the pain he saw on his own face every day, Charlie felt the slight pull of a smile on his lips. It was tempered only by the twenty-four hours between then and when the car was due to arrive.
"A car is coming at seven a.m. tomorrow to take us to the airport, then we'll get the answers we need."
The house burst into activity a Peter threw his arms around Charlie, Archie sighing in relief while promising his inquisitive son that all was well.
~ oOo ~
A short while later Peter headed next-door to his house to get things in order for an open-ended trip to the States. Archie and Carl-Roman ate their cereal, eating it in the living room with cartoons amusing the big boy as much as the small. When Carl-Roman's baby brother, five-month-old Chase, woke up he got to join his daddy and brother, chowing down quite contentedly on a bottle of warm milk and some porridge.
In the meantime, Charlie shoved essentials into a large black holdall in his bedroom, whirling around to make sure there wasn't anything he'd missed. As he did so, Charlie's eyes caught on a photograph laying face-up on the mantle over the purely decorative fireplace. He paused, reaching out to touch it. The beech wood frame felt smooth under his wood-calloused fingertips, years of working hard on construction sites toughening the skin. Hot tears held back by his pride prickled the harried man's eyes as he ran a thumb over the rosy cheeks of the smiling blonde in the picture. In this particular photo she was three years old with wild blonde curls, brilliant blue-green eyes that matched the Mediterranean backdrop, and not a care in the world.
Just two weeks later the rug was torn from beneath her feet.
A pair of officers had interrupted the barbecue Charlie and Peter were holding, bearing grave news. News of a car accident. One that had claimed the lives of their wives before the emergency crew could even get there. Charlie's mind wandered back without his permission to a time when he thought life couldn't get any worse.
Four years later, it did.
"Daddy! Lookie-me! I'm swimmin'!" Scarlett sent a fountain of water through the air with splashing arms and legs, Rosalie squealing in delight while the two dads groaned loudly. Despite their groans, they weren't upset in the slightest. Their girls were the prettiest sight. They lived to hear those giggles, see those smiles.
"Banana, Daddy's cooking. If you get the food wet what will we eat?" Charlie winked to the giggly girls so they'd know he wasn't really scolding them, shaking his head a little to dislodge the water in his ear.
Scarlett rolled her playful eyes and let herself plop back onto her butt, which touched the floor because the paddling pool was only half-full. She and Rosalie, at four years old, would have loved more water, but under their daddy's orders were just enjoying the water they had. Twelve year old Archie, however, complained of its lameness.
"C'mon Rosie, let's get our babies so they tan swim also."
The girls' dads watched with ear-splitting smiles as their floral, puffy swim-suit clad toddlers skipped inside, hands linked between them, chattering happily about their dolls. It still amazed them daily how much they'd grown. To Charlie and Peter it seemed like only yesterday they'd brought their helpless daughters home swaddled in matching blankets. Overnight the troublesome twosome had gone from tiny babies to slightly bigger ones who were insistent that they could 'do it myself, Daddy!'
For Peter it wasn't quite so sad. After all, he and his wife Tina had their eleven-month-old identical twin girls, Heidi and Pippa.
"Did you persuade T to let you get that table, Pete?"
Peter chuckled. "Not yet. She's still saying we don't need it. She'd understand what I mean if Rosie ever took all her princess stuff off the pool table. Damn thing's all-but buckling under the weight of all her pink junk."
For a few sunny minutes all was grand. The July weather was scorching, bathing the garden in warmth as they listened to Scarlett and Rosalie laughing from the cracked-open window above. The baby twins were taking their nap inside in the living room while Archie hid in his room on his new Playstation. The wives were out on a shopping run, beer at the top of their list so it wouldn't run out when the afternoon drifted into evening. Nothing could ruin this perfect summer for them.
But it could. And it would. Was about to, in fact.
"Dad? There's a couple of cops at the door. They, um, they wanna talk to you."
Charlie's eyes flashed from the barbecue to his son. Archie stood awkwardly just inside the patio doors, hands wringing in front of his stomach, eyes betraying his nerves. It occurred to Charlie as he set his beer down that it was probably to do with the break in on his van a few weeks prior. He grinned at Peter while walking towards Archie.
"With a bit of luck they've got the little shit who broke into my van a few weeks back. I want the tools they nicked. Bloody good ones they got away with!"
Peter laughed, waving him off. They both knew the tools were long-gone, having been the expensive kind.
Clasping his son briefly by the shoulder as he passed him, Charlie glanced absentmindedly at the clock hanging next to the kitchen door. It was later than he'd thought. With the sun dawdling on its way to the horizon, it had been easy to mistake the evening for afternoon. It was just before four when Penelope and Tina had set off together to the supermarket – the cow-shaped clock read seven fifteen.
Shouldn't they be back by now? He wondered as he strolled through the house.
"Good evening, gentlemen. How can I help you?" Charlie asked, chipper, when he reached the front door. His chipper mood wouldn't last long.
There the policemen stood, hats already gripped in their hands. Charlie tried to recall the shopping list Penelope had asked him to check before leaving. What he could remember only added up to about twenty things, all relatively simple. Why had it taken them so long to drive a ten minute journey there and back and pick up those few things?
"Charlie Swan?" He nodded, refocusing on the officer addressing him. He had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, lips pulled down slightly. "I'm PC Danforth, this is my colleague, PC Paulson. Do you mind if we come in for a moment?"
"Um, sure. Come on in."
A heavy ball descended into the pit of Charlie's stomach as he ushered the two men through to the kitchen. Nothing good ever came of policemen arriving on the doorstep, that he knew. Especially not sporting the expressions on these two officers' faces. In the kitchen, they found Peter pulling a cold beer from the fridge.
"Did you want another, Chuck? I figured you'd want a cold…one." Peter trailed off, frowning, and set the bottles down when he turned to see his childhood friend flanked by the solemn boys in blue. "Did they find your tools?"
"Are you Peter Hale, Sir?" At his confused nod, the officers shared a look that set the other two men on edge. Their posture and stern faces said nothing good was going to come of this visit.
"I think you might like to take a seat for a minute."
Blindly following his suggestion, Charlie and Peter took seats at the newly decorated kitchen counter. Their hearts raced erratically. The way they were being gazed at didn't make either of them feel comfortable, though they didn't know why. Nor did the sympathy visible in the officers' eyes as PC Danforth began to speak.
"I'm sorry to tell you that there has been an accident."
Charlie and Peter's veins turned to ice.
They were forced to listen as PC Danforth detailed the scene he had arrived at forty minutes before. The black car registered in Charlie's name was submerged in Shinewater Lake, the car it had collided with hanging precariously from the crash barrier above. The air around them became thick with fear, disbelief, and sorrow as the two men, two fathers, two husbands realized what the officers were saying.
Penelope and Tina were dead.
Killed, by a man four times over the drink driving limit. That man was still alive in hospital where he was being treated for minor injuries while Penelope and Tina were gone, their injuries too grave.
All of the air was sucked from Charlie's body, his mind whirring with this impossible situation. It must be a joke, he thought. A cruel trick.
Pronounced dead at the scene. It all happened very quickly. He was clocked doing eight on a forty limit road a mile back. Traffic police were in pursuit. There will be an investigation and charges will be filed. You have our deepest condolences.
"Deepest condolences…" It was a phrase Charlie remembered all-too-well from his childhood when his father died after a cancerous attack on his lungs. The doctor was speaking to his aunt while he pretended to sleep on her lap. His mother had died giving birth to him, so for his entire life it had been his dad, his aunt Tanya, and his eight-year-old brother, Patrick. Now it was just him and his baby brother, who was in the cafeteria of the hospital with his aunt's boyfriend.
As Charlie and Peter tried to deal with the crushing news, Scarlett and Rosalie stepped into the kitchen. Scarlett's mouth was pulled up into the widest, toothiest smile the policemen had ever seen. Her azure eyes sparkled behind a pair of too-big glasses that belonged on Charlie's larger face, her feet making a clicking noise on the tiles in the bright red heels she sported – far too big for her tiny feet. Rosalie clicked behind her in a similar state of dress, but with purple shoes instead of red.
"Daddy, look! We're just like Mummy and Awntie T! Tan you take a pitcher to show them?"
With that, the two newly widowed men burst into tears.
Neither of them had had any idea that this was just the first of many losses to come.
~ oOo ~
Rosalie stared hard at Scarlett, sleep still crowding her brain. It took a moment or three for her to really comprehend what she was saying.
"Leave her? Why?"
Scarlett sighed, leaning down to inhale the scent of Marley's hair. She always smelled sweet. Like a little girl should. "She needs to be safe. She isn't safe with us."
"Of course she is!" Rosalie whisper-yelled. "She's always been safe with us! We protect her, we've been protecting her for her whole life! How can you…how can you even consider abandoning her?"
Scowling, Scarlett shook her head. "I'm not abandoning her, Rosalie, but if she stays with us she'll have to run. We can't go to the authorities until we know where…where he is, in case he finds out and hurts our families. He's said he knows important people, hasn't he? You've heard him. What if we report it to the police but he's warned them, or paid them to tell him if we go to them? What if they just hand us right back? We'll never get away again, Rosalie, never. He'd kill us you know. He wouldn't even care about doing it, either." Scarlett's words came thick and fast, each one saturated with fear. "He'd kill us without a second thought and then what would happen to Marley? She'd be with him and we wouldn't be able to protect her."
Rosalie gawped at Scarlett, sure she was suffering a psychotic break. "You're just overwhelmed, Barley. I am, too, but this…if we leave Marley with strangers what do you think will happen then? They won't know who she is or anything! How will they be able to protect her?"
Scarlett seemed to contemplate this for a while. Rosalie couldn't find the words to ask what was going on in her head, so he waited, heart in her mouth, for Scarlett to explain her crazy thought process.
"We'll watch her go in, and give her a letter saying who she is, who we are. Yes, that's good. Then they'll know who she is and—"
"And what? What do you think they'll do? They can't just trust a random letter dropped off with a kid, Scarlett! Anybody could write a letter saying whatever they like!"
"I've thought of that already." From the pocket in her hoodie, Scarlett pulled two things. The first was the photo of herself, Rosalie, and Archie that she'd found in the study. Rosalie took it from her with shaky fingers, stroking the apples of her cheeks, then thumbing Archie's riot of dark hair.
"Where did you…" she breathed, tears dripping onto the picture.
"The study. I have a folder of information, I'll show you. But I'll give this to Marley, and write on the back who she is, who we are and where she came from, and I can give them…I can give them the phone numbers Dad and Uncle Pete had. They can call them."
Gazing upon Marley with ears drowning with emotions Rosalie couldn't fathom, couldn't place or name, Scarlett inhaled a big breath that made all three of them tremble. Marley stirred, rolling to curl into Scarlett's chest with a soft sigh that tickled the older girl's collarbone. She was so peaceful, so content, when she slept this way. As though she had no worries and was a normal girl. A normal five-year-old.
"She can have a family. Our family." Scarlett looked to Rosalie, then. The earnest, desperate look in her eyes was frightening in its intensity. "Rosalie think about it, she can go home to Dad, to your dad. They'll look after her, and she'll get to have a family and a home where she can learn and grow. Where she can be safe. Until we know he's not a threat anymore we can't go with her, but she can't stay with us, don't you see? She's a target all the time we've got her. He could use her against us."
Slowly, Scarlett's reasoning warped until it began to make sense. It was horrific to consider leaving Marley anywhere, let alone with strangers and unable to speak, but in a way Scarlett was right. Marley wasn't safe with them, not really. Not with the huge target on their backs. And she had to admit the image of Marley safe between Charlie and Peter made her heart thump unevenly. She wanted that. She wanted it for Marley, and for their peace of mind. But the risks were so many, and options so few.
If, like Scarlett suggested, they left Marley with the authorities at the hospital with a note and proof of who she was there was still no guarantee they'd be able to track down Charlie or Peter. After all, the phone numbers they'd had the girls memorize as soon as they were old enough were twelve years old by then. There was a huge chance they'd been changed in the years since their abduction, and no way for them to know. They had no phone, and very aware most payphones were monitored by cameras. They had no clue how far reaching his powers were, no idea if he was tracking them at that very moment.
"She'll be so scared," Rosalie murmured.
"We'll explain everything to her. She knows about Dad, and Uncle Pete and Archie, Edward and Alice and Jasper…we'll tell her to wait for them."
"Scarlett, I don't think you've thought this through. It sounds great in theory, but if something goes wrong Marley's stuck in the hospital, potentially with the police and a ton of people she doesn't know. She'll be freaked out and terrified. How can that possibly be good for her?"
"Because she'd be free, Rosie. She'd finally be free."
~ oOo ~
Despite Rosalie's hesitation, and the sickness clawing at Scarlett's throat, the following morning before the sun had risen the trio of girls sat in a triangle on the bed, their crossed-knees touching.
"Marley, babygirl, we need you to do something really, really brave today, ok?"
Marley cocked her head, clutching Mister Eddie close to her chest with a solemn, patient expression.
"You remember we talked about your family, in England?"
Marley nodded slowly, clearly bemused.
"Well," Scarlett swallowed hard, "they're going to come and get you, to take you home."
As soon as the word 'home' fell from Scarlett's lips, Marley's eyes widened and she leapt over into her lap, scrabbling to grip her wherever her little hands could find purchase. It took a few seconds before Scarlett's shock evaporated enough for her to realize her faux pas.
"No, babygirl, not the ranch. You're never going back there, you hear me?" She pulled back to cradle Marley's cheeks and stare into her eyes. "You're never going back to the ranch," Scarlett enunciated slowly and clearly, willing Marley to believe it. She could feel the moment the little girl relaxed. "I promise you, sweet girl, the ranch is gone. You're not going to have to step foot there ever again. So listen, ok, you're going on an adventure. We're going to take you to this place called the hospital where lots of really nice people work. They're going to look after you until your family come to get you, ok? They'll keep you safe."
In her five years of life Marley had never said a single word. She'd made sounds, sure. A whine when she was protesting something, a cry when she was a baby, or a whimper when she hurt herself. But never a word. Scarlett and Rosalie had begged her for them when she was smaller, spending hours speaking to her in the hopes she'd imitate them just once. She never had.
That said, she could communicate in other ways, and with her limited options available to her, the favorite was definitely communicating through touch.
She reached out a tiny hand, resting her palm over Scarlett's cheek. A small blue bruise had blossomed there overnight, perhaps from when she hit her head. Nevertheless it didn't hurt, and she leaned into the little girl's touch, knowing what she was asking without having to question her.
"We can't stay with you, babygirl, but we won't be far, ok? We'll make sure the people who take care of you are kind, and we'll see you again soon."
"You can't promise that," Rosalie whispered, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as she stared at Marley staring at Scarlett. "You can't promise that when you don't know."
"I do," Scarlett said. "They'll get Marley to our family and she can be safe while we sort this mess out. He's too much of a threat right now. He'll come for us and Marley will suffer. I can't let him hurt her, Rosalie. I couldn't bear it."
Marley whined a little and reached forward to hug Scarlett, resting her head over her heart and pressing a kiss to Scarlett's hand when she raised it to stroke her hair. She hated seeing Rosalie and Scarlett upset. She'd seen it far too often in her short lifetime.
"I can't see another way forward, Rosalie. If there's another way to keep her safe from him then tell me. But I can't see one and it terrifies me. The thought of not being able to hold her terrifies me."
It would have been easy for Rosalie to say 'well don't do it, then'. It wouldn't have taken any effort at all. She was desperate to say it, desperate to say those words and have Scarlett agree and say 'ok, we'll keep her here with us'. But she knew, in her heart of hearts, that despite it being scary for them and scary for Marley, with Garrett Smith still on the loose Marley would be his number one target.
Because he knew. He knew that harming the little girl would kill Scarlett, in particular, and it was no secret that he liked to hurt her.
Watching Scarlett cradle Marley, rocking their bodies gently side-to-side while humming a tune so soft she couldn't make out what it was, Rosalie harshly brushed tears from her face and cleared her throat.
"When?"
Scarlett's voice didn't falter, nor did her movements, but her eyes flickered to Rosalie, then to the slim gap between the curtains at the window. The sun was just peeking through, sneaking into the room to throw a thin line of light across the dirty carpet.
"Soon," she said once she'd finished the song. Peering down at Marley's face, calm now and reassured for the moment, she sighed and brushed a trio of kisses over the little girl's forehead. "We'll go soon."
Less than an hour later they pulled alongside the nearest hospital in the rusty old truck. Well, it was a medical center, but according to the map they had the nearest hospital wasn't close enough in range for them to get there and back on such a small amount of fuel. Either way, there would be people in there that could use a phone to dial Charlie or Peter's number, or contact the relevant authorities to get them on their way. It was risky, and possibly the craziest decision Scarlett had ever made, but she couldn't see past the opportunity for Marley to get away from this whole mess. The only thing she could picture now was Marley in Charlie and Peter's arms, Archie looking on with a proud grin. They'd adore her. They'd see the spark in her eyes and nurture it in ways Scarlett and Rosalie couldn't. Not while they were on the run from a madman intent on making their lives hell.
Marley deserved Christmases and birthdays, presents galore. She deserved to know her family, to live in a proper home she was safe in, and to know she never had to want for anything.
Scarlett and Rosalie couldn't offer her any of those things in a dingy motel with rapidly dwindling money and a crazy man coming after them at any given moment. Every tiny sound had Scarlett and Rosalie swinging towards the door, wondering if their tormentor was about to burst forth. That was no way for a child to have to grow up, and Scarlett couldn't bear the thought of Marley having to spend another day living that way.
"Babygirl, are you ok?"
Marley sucked in a breath through rosebud lips, frowning slightly as she peered up at Scarlett from the middle of the truck bench. She'd been dressed in comfy clothes, as if that would make this easier on her, though they all knew this wasn't going to be pleasant.
But in Scarlett's overwhelmed, exhausted, pained mind, this seemed to be the only option. Right or wrong, she couldn't contemplate any other outcome that wouldn't result in Marley's life being ruined completely. This way she had a chance. A fighting chance to get back to a normal life with a loving family.
Sporting a pair of warm dark gray tracksuit bottoms, the one t-shirt she had that was a color and not gray – it was a faded lilac hue -, and the hoodie to match her bottoms, she'd sat and allowed Scarlett to plait her hair into a long braid down her back. She looked adorable, and utterly innocent. She'd seen so much, and to look at her, she appeared to be an angel sent from heaven.
For Scarlett that's exactly what she was. Motivation and a reason to live and love and now, a reason to fight.
"Have you got your things? Your picture and Mister Eddie?"
Marley lifted the bunny he never set down, then took the photo from her hoodie pocket. Scarlett had penned a note on the back explaining who she was, who Scarlett and Rosalie were, and instructions to contact the authorities who'd deal with a kidnap case in England. Scarlett had no idea how the international side of kidnap cases worked, but she hoped they'd be able to work together to get Marley to Charlie and Peter. They had a photo of her and Rosalie with Archie, and the details of how Marley came to be, so they had no reason not to contact Charlie. She'd even given them his address and the last contact number he'd had.
"Good girl, well done. Ignoring the pain it caused all over her body, Scarlett scooped Marley into her lap and set her astride her thighs, hands cupping her cheeks. She drank in every facet of the little girl's face.
The curve of her cheeks, a sweet button nose begging to be kissed between them.
A rosebud mouth no artist could dream up.
And her huge, bottomless sea-blue-green eyes framed by sinfully long lashes.
She was a beautiful child with a face any person with a heart couldn't resist loving. She was utterly precious, Scarlett's entire world in one tiny little person.
And she was letting her go.
"Ok babygirl, let's get this adventure underway, huh?" Injecting fake enthusiasm into her voice, Rosalie bounced Marley on her knees. Just once, but enough to send pain shooting through her body. She ignored it. "Do you remember the plan? You're going to go inside with Rosalie and when she goes into the bathroom, you're going to give the person behind the counter this note, on the picture. Rosalie is going to come back out and get me, and then your family, they're going to come and pick you up. The nice people here will take care of you until then, all right?"
Marley's lower lip jutted out in slow-motion, trembling. Her eyes glistened with tears, but she valiantly fought them back, visibly steeling herself. Rosalie and Scarlett had never seen anything like it. She nodded, the movement jerky.
"Good girl. Oh Marley, I'm so proud of you. You sweet, brave little thing."
It all happened in a sort of hazy, slowed down fog. Scarlett peppered Marley's face with kisses. They were pure desperation, misery, and sadness. She missed the little girl already and yet she still felt the warm weight of her upon her legs. She missed her smiles, the silent giggles she hid behind her hands. She missed waking up to the heaviness of a wriggling little body atop hers, of a bony elbow jutting into her side.
But most of all, she missed the stolen opportunity to raise Marley.
Fighting against her every instinct, Rosalie climbed out of the truck, tugging her hoodie up over her head as she accepted Marley into her arms when Scarlett passed her down. The little girl was rigid in her arms, but the look on her face was all Scarlett.
Determination. Resolve. Undeniable spirit.
As Rosalie turned to walk away with Marley on her hip, Scarlett reached out a hand and pressed it against the window, fingers stretched wide as though she could press it through the glass and touch Marley, one last time.
Each step felt impossible. Rosalie's legs were like lead. Her heart thumped so fast she felt dizzy. And despite it all, she kept moving, somehow. She made it over the road. Up the steps. Into the lobby.
It didn't even cross her mind to marvel at the automatic doors or the TV screen on the wall advertising some sports brand or other. She barely managed to mumble a 'hello' to the receptionist behind the desk before ducking her head and rushing past towards the restroom. It felt ridiculous to not stop and cry, to beg and plead with the receptionist to help them. To admit who she was, who was sitting in the truck outside, but Rosalie ignored the urge – however strong it was. She'd wanted to desperately to go to the authorities for years. To be free to report Garrett for his crimes. To out him for all he was. Here, she had the perfect chance, and she was going to blow it. She was going to climb out of the bathroom window and leave Marley despite all of her instincts crying out for her not to.
She was going to do it so that Marley could be safe. So that she and Scarlett could hatch their plan to end their torment once and for all – whatever that took.
"Ok, Marley moo, give me a hug."
Marley stretched onto her tiptoes, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum bathroom floor as she twined her skinny little arms around Rosalie's neck, squeezing tight.
"I love you, Marley, ok?"
With a tiny, tremulous smile, Marley stepped back and pressed her fingertips to her lips, then pressed them to Rosalie's cheek, just in the corner of her mouth. I love you, too, the touch said.
"God, I can't do this," Rosalie breathed, feeling like she was choking. She stared at the little girl, so like her childhood best friend, through tear-blurred eyes. She was fierce and beautiful and everything she wasn't, despite being five years old to her twenty-one.
She was Scarlett, made over.
And that's how Rosalie knew. She knew she'd be ok, because she had all the best parts of Scarlett.
With that thought, she pressed a long, hard kiss to Marley's head, brushing a wayward lock of hair back towards her braid before squeezing her to her chest once more. One last time.
"All right, time for your big adventure." Marley's lips curled upwards, almost like she was asking if it was ok to smile.
Rosalie managed to force the smallest of smiles to encourage her. She didn't want to make this any harder than it had to be. She didn't want to frighten Marley by bursting into the tears threatening to escape. "Time to go and meet your family, ok?"
Sighing, with one last squeeze of one of only three women he'd ever met, Marley braced herself and walked towards the restroom door, glancing back at Rosalie as she pushed the door open.
Rosalie smiled though it killed her inside, and nodded. "You go, baby. God, you're going to love your family so much. Tell them we love them, too, all right?"
Marley nodded, and with that, she was gone.
Knowing it was only a matter of time before the receptionist burst in looking for her, Rosalie grabbed a wad of tissue from the nearest stall before clambering up and out through the window in the corner, using one of the small bins as a stool.
She was across the grass lawn when Marley made it to the desk.
She'd just crossed the road when Marley reached up to get the receptionist's attention, and then passed her the picture after pointing to the note on the back.
She was in the truck when the receptionist came around her desk with a frown on her face and a knot in her stomach to crouch in front of Marley.
She'd started the engine, Scarlett a ball of misery on the other end of the bench with her face hidden in her knees when the receptionist checked the bathroom stalls, then noticed the open window.
And she was gone, the squealing tires leaving behind a cloud of dust in the air when she burst through the front doors of Central Montana Medical Center.
There was nobody there. Nobody but an abandoned child with a photo clutched tight in her tiny fist, tears leaking from eyes the most beautiful shade of blue.
Her mother's eyes.
Scarlett's eyes.
Those of you that guessed Scarlett is Marley's mother - dingding we have a winner(s)!
Her father will take a little longer to be revealed, I'm afraid. But we're getting there, I swear :)