Page 48 of Desperate Creed

One of Brodie’s first introductions to her mother was her television show. Ryder channel-surfed on the hospital TV until he found it. And that was another thing that bothered Brodie. Why was she Olivia James? Not Olivia Creed? She had asked Ryder, and he simply said she’d need to ask their mother.

As for why the two weren’t close? Ryder had told her, “It’s a long story. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And it doesn’t matter anymore. She wants to be a part of our lives. You have to at least give her a chance.”

After everything he’d done for her, Brodie agreed to at least try. Even her therapist applauded the idea and reminded her, “Your mother is not the villain that Iris Malone said she was.”

Brodie knew that Iris had lied to her, but it didn’t make it any easier to erase everything the woman had told her over and over again for the last sixteen years. It didn’t help matters that Iris’ lies fed off of Brodie’s guilt. She did, after all, disobey her parents. Why wouldn’t they be angry? Why wouldn’t they want to punish her?

Last night’s nightmare, along with the rain, brought the beginning back so clearly. Too clearly. Sometimes it felt like ages ago. Other times, it felt like yesterday.

It had been raining that day. She and Ryder were reading their new books that Gram had given them while their dad listened to the football game on the car radio. He was in a bad mood the entire drive. Their mom had stayed with Gram, and Brodie just figured he was upset that they had to go home without her.

They stopped at a rest area so Brodie could go to the bathroom. It seemed silly, but even now she could remember how happy and carefree she skipped through the puddles, her new book still under her arm. The rain made all the taillights and truck lights blink and glow—red and orange, yellow and green. She didn’t feel scared at all.

The little girl was standing at the sink when Brodie finished using the toilet. She was thin and her long hair stringy. At first, Brodie thought the girl was using the bathroom because she was sick. Her face was so pale, and she looked sad. She said her name was Charlotte, and she asked if Brodie would like to see her new puppy.

Brodie realized too late that it should have been a warning signal. Why did the girl look so sad if she had just received a new puppy? Maybe she didn’t want the puppy. Maybe she was going to offer it to Brodie. But then, Brodie became mesmerized by the RV that Charlotte showed her. The girl scrambled up the steps, and Brodie followed. Inside it looked like a house on wheels. It was so pretty. The smiling woman invited her in. She showed her how they could sit on the sofa, watch TV—“go ahead, sit down”—and cook their meal while they rode along the countryside.

Brodie had never been inside such a vehicle before. Iris had offered her a ride, just a short one for her to get the feel. Brodie paid little attention to the man behind the steering wheel or the boy in the passenger seat. She’d barely noticed that there wasn’t a puppy anywhere to be seen.

When Iris pulled out her phone and said she’d call Brodie’s parents to see if it was okay, Brodie only nodded while she sipped the milkshake that the woman had already prepared for her and Charlotte.

She remembered being fascinated by how high up they rode. By the time she wondered how this woman knew her parents, she was feeling sleepy, so sleepy she could barely move her arms.

It was her fault. Her bad decision. That was what Iris Malone told Brodie so many times that Brodie knew it had to be true.

When Iris told her that her mom and dad didn’t want her back, she believed her. She wanted to talk to them. She pleaded with Iris to let her explain to them that she was sorry, but Iris said it was too late. Iris said they didn’t want her back.

“They told me to keep you,” Iris said. “But you’re so naughty, I don’t know if I want you.”

When her parents didn’t come to get her, Brodie knew it had to be true. Iris told her that she had given them directions, told them exactly where to come to get her. When you’re eleven years old you believe the adults around you. After all, why would they lie?

Dozens of times Iris Malone got on the phone and talked to Brodie’s mother. Now she knew Iris only pretended to talk to her parents. But back then, Brodie heard the one-ended conversations and believed them to be real. Iris made them convincing enough that knots tied up Brodie’s stomach and tears smeared her face. By the time she realized Iris Malone was an evil woman, she had forgotten what was true and what were lies. She was too scared, too hungry, too tired or too cold. She couldn’t remember whether she was Brodie or whether she was Charlotte. And after a while, she no longer cared.

At some point, even she was relieved to be free of Brodie. Brodie was a frightened crybaby, a naughty, selfish girl who disobeyed her parents. But Charlotte...Charlotte was brave and strong.

When Ryder first told her—back in the hospital—that he and their mother had traveled all over the country for years trying to find her, Brodie wasn’t sure she believed him.

He saw her cynicism immediately and said to her, “I tell you what. I promise never to lie to you.”

“No matter what?” she had asked.

“No matter what.”

“Even if the truth is painful?”

She could still remember the look on his face: a combination of sadness, concern and a whole lot of hesitation.

“The truth can’t possibly hurt as much as the lies already have,” she told him that day, not having a clue about the heartache and sorrow that would result from what he had to tell her.

The death of her grandmother happened only months after Brodie had been taken.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ryder had insisted. “Gram was sick the last time you saw her, remember?”

“And dad?” she asked. “What happened to him?”