Snatched

Part 57 - Winter Gardens, Downtown Los Angeles

Cynthia Freeman lay on a sunbed in her back garden, enjoying the California sunshine. She picked up the book that she'd been reading for the last week, 'Gilmore Girls'. It was such a heartwarming book, she'd hardly been able to put it down.

She'd been sent the book by a woman named Emily Gilmore, whose granddaughter Rory was apparently the author. Apparently it was all the rage among young folk across the globe, but the first time she'd heard of it was at the inter-state DAR reunion last month.

Emily Gilmore, Cynthia thought, had been quite an interesting woman. Emilys reputation proceeded her and Cynthia had known who she was long before they'd met. Apparently Emily had become quite a pariah amongst her local branch of the DAR in the last couple of years, after an apparent 'incident', as the ladies liked to call it, following the death of her husband a couple of years back. There were rumours that Emily had had a bit of a breakdown, but Cynthia didn't like to speculate over the extent of their truth. Apparently Emily had stopped attending DAR meetings in recent years, so Cynthia had not expected to meet her in the flesh at the reunion.

A couple of weeks after they'd met and Cynthia had politely ummed and ahhed at Emily gushing over her granddaughter, a copy of the book had arrived in the mail. Cynthia had put it to one side to begin with, but after picking it up one quiet afternoon last week, she hadn't been able to put it down.

A few metres ahead of her, Cynthia could hear the sound of the children splashing away and having fun in the pool; a sound that at one point in her life she'd never thought she would hear.

Cynthia and her late husband Gregory had always wanted to have children, but unfortunately had never been successful in having any of their own.

Cynthia had suggested fostering or adoption to her husband back when they were in their late thirties, but Gregory had always turned the idea down, saying that it wouldn't fit it in with his long hours as a private school headteacher. In reality, Cynthia knew that this had been far from the truth and that Gregory couldn't bare to have children living in the house, after the heartache of not being able to have one of their own. It was hard enough for him having to be around children every day.

After Gregory had died about 10 years ago, Cynthia had been unable to bare living in a house that was quiet all the time. She'd returned to the idea of adoption, but she was far too old for that now. She was in her mid 60's at that point, so if she'd adopted a 3 year old she would be around 80 by the time they reached 18. She'd decided that fostering would suit her better and after setting the wheels in motion around 6 months after Gregorys death, Cynthia had never looked back.

Of course now she was 75 and didn't feel at all near ready to retire from fostering yet. She had 3 foster children living with her at the moment. Lily was 5, Jayden was 10 and Maya was 16, so Cynthia never really saw a lot of her.

When Cynthia heard her phone ring, she placed her book flat on her stomach. Maya had made her buy one of those iPhone things, but she had no idea how to use it. The good thing was though that peoples names appeared on the screen before you answered the phone, so Cynthia always knew exactly who was calling her.

She looked at the name that appeared on the screen now. 'Wendy, social worker' it said. Wendy had become a firm friend of Cynthias, after placing many children in her care over the years. It would be nice to have a chat with her. Cynthia slid the arrow on the screen across, in the way that Maya had shown her and answered the phone.
'Hello Wendy, how are you?!' Cynthia exclaimed.
'Room for another one?' Wendy replied.