Leave The City (Book 8 of Adopted by the Josephs)

69. Sarah

Brendon and I brought Rosie and Junie home for dinner, baths and bed. They were fun to have for a few days. Rosie is a serious going concern she's a little mother hen with Junie. It's adorable to watch.

After they'd had dinner and baths, and were in pyjamas and in bed, Brendon and I read them each a story.

"Sarah?" Rosie asked.

"Yes, bug?" I asked her.

"Sammy's okay. She's not sick."

"That's right," I smiled. "Sammy's going to be okay. And hopefully she'll get to come home tomorrow and we can have some fun. But she might want, or even need, to rest some because she bumped her head and got a bit of a boo boo."

"She can swim?" Junie asked.

"I think that depends on how she's feeling when she comes home," I said. "But I don't think she's not allowed to."

Junie nodded.

"I'm gonna draw her a card in the morning to say 'welcome home Sammy'," Rosie said.

"Me too!" Junie said.

"It's my idea, Junie, I'm gonna make a card!" Rosie said.

"But, I wanna make a 'wecom home Sammy' card, too!" Junie pouted.

"Rosie, you can both draw Sammy a card. I'm sure she will love both cards," I said. I realized raising children seems to be 90% negotiating with tiny terrorists.

"I guess," Rosie sighed. I smiled.

"All right you two. If we want to draw welcome home cards for Sammy tomorrow before she comes home, we are going to need all the best sleeps we can get! So, under the covers with you two, and let's get some sleep, okay?"

"Good night Sarah," Rosie said.

"Night night, Sarah," Junie said.

"Good night you two. We're just downstairs if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay," they both said. I smiled, turned on the night light and closed the bedroom door. I passed Sam's room and looked in. As much as Sam had made it her own space, she'd left all the pieces of Jessie intact. The picture her friend, and pseudo-bodyguard Darren, had drawn for her was still on the small shelf above the bed, along with the set of drumsticks Josh had given her. The ones he'd had made for her were buried with her, along with her stuffed bunny, pictures of her and her friends over the four years she was our daughter, Brendon's last album before she died, and she was dressed in her favourite hoodie, t-shirt and jeans, and of course her converse sneakers.

I sat on the bed, looking around. Sam really hadn't done much to the room. There was a South Columbus pennant tacked to the cork board Jessie had kept the pictures, now buried with her, on.

I sighed. It had been really cathartic having Samantha here. Even with the accident and this. We were getting to do some of the things we couldn't do with Jessie, with Sam.

"Hi, Mom," I heard. I looked up and sitting beside me on the bed was Jessie.

"Jessie?" I said. "How? What?"

She looked good. She looked like she would have if she'd been healthy in her senior year. Her hair looked full and healthy. Her eyes were bright. Her cheeks were full and her skin was glowing. She looked so beautiful.

"I like Samantha," she said. "I like that you let her use my room. She hasn't changed much though, has she?  It's really still pretty much my room still."

"Jessie. I miss you so much," I said, tears coming from my eyes.

"I know. I miss you and Dad, too. But guess what? I found my parents. The ones before you!"