Free Bringing Baby Home by Debra Salonen Page B

molasses, I’ll get the cod-liver oil. See you shortly, sis.” Then she hung up.
    Lizgroaned and placed the phone back on the receiver on the wall of her kitchen. Her roommates, who were eating breakfast at the table across from her, stared as they chewed their highly sugared cereal. Liz had done her best to try to introduce healthy food into their diets, but Lydia and Reezira possessed firm opinions about what was “good.” Marshmallows and peanut butter were their favorite choices. The soy milk they poured over the brownish clusters was their concession to Liz.
    “They come?” Lydia asked.
    “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    “Good,” Reezira said. “They need shoot you.” She demonstrated by holding a pretend syringe to her arm.
    A shot in the arm. “Somebody should,” Liz muttered.
    She looked down at her pink Betty Boop pajama bottoms. She’d been wearing them for a couple of days now. Two? Three? She wasn’t sure. With the curtains closed and twenty-four-hour cable, a person could easily lose track of time.
    But she’d done more than watch TV. She’d filled out every page of the adoption application. She had researched several adoption agencies that had been recommended by some of her online contacts. She’d talked to Jyoti—even though the cost of a phone call to India was a luxury she really couldn’t afford. Thankfully, Jyoti had eased Liz’s worries. Prisha was doing better. Still not totally out of the woods, but she was breathing easier and sleeping through the night again.
    If only I were . The nightmares that had troubled her immediately after the rape had come back. This time there were more men involved in the violation. Different ages. Different colors and nationalities. She fought them off valiantly and usually managed to wake herself up before anyone touched her, but the fear lingered.
    “Iguess I’ll take a shower,” she said, trudging down the hall to her room.
    She was just tucking a gray University of Nevada, Las Vegas T-shirt into her shorts when the doorbell rang. Her sisters never rang the bell.
    Her pulse quickened as she hurried, barefoot, to the foyer, where Lydia was standing with the door slightly cracked. She was talking to somebody. Liz couldn’t see the person, but she could tell by Lydia’s body language something was wrong.
    She walked to the door.
    “Oh, Liz, there you are. I was hoping you were home.”
    Crissy. No wonder Lydia was tense. “My car is in the driveway. Where did you think I was?”
    Crissy glanced over her shoulder. “Um…yes, well, that’s just it. Your car hasn’t moved in days and I was worried. After what happened, I mean. You’re okay, aren’t you?”
    “I’m fine. Just working from home. Was there anything else?”
    She looked uneasy. “Um…no. Not really. Eli is back with his mother. Did your policeman friend tell you about the punishment we came up with for the boys? They worked all weekend at the church where the um…confrontation took place. Mowing, weeding, painting an old storage shed.”
    Liz had heard, but she didn’t care. “That’s nice.”
    “And we made Eli give his bike to Goodwill.”
    Liz recalled the moment when David passed her the bike. Their hands had touched for a brief second. She’d thought about him a lot since that night. He’d promised to call, but he hadn’t.
    “Um…Liz, I don’t know if I said how sorry I am this happened. My um…husband has strong opinions about certainsubjects. It’s how he was raised. I…I don’t always agree with him, but I’ve made it a point not to interfere with how he talks to Eli. I’m only the stepmother and—”
    Liz cut her off. She was sick of excuses. “You could be a positive influence in your stepson’s life. You could stand up for yourself, for women, for your daughter.”
    Crissy’s face crumpled like a scolded child’s. “But I’m not strong, like you.”
    “You’re as strong as you choose to be.” Why was she wasting her breath? Crissy didn’t get