Previously…
– In the wake of Paula’s heart attack, Molly and Brent put pressure on Travis and Rosie to back out of the custody battle over Gabrielle.
– Travis expressed doubts to Rosie that they would be able to retain custody.
– A panicked Rosie made a split-second decision to take Gabrielle on the run.

Although a Michael Bublé Christmas tune plays on the car’s radio, Rosie Jimenez cannot even focus on the music long enough to notice what song it is. Her fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, and her left leg vibrates with an anxiety that she cannot quell. Gloomy skies up ahead threaten rain, and while she doesn’t think that would pose much impediment to her journey, she also doesn’t need an even more ominous and foreboding atmosphere. Not today. Not now.

She lifts her eyes from the freeway ahead to the rearview mirror, and she sees her toddler daughter sitting there, strapped into her carseat and munching on a Saltine cracker. 

“Hi, sweet girl,” Rosie says as she smiles into the mirror.

Gabrielle crinkles up her nose. “We go to park?”

“Not today. It’s too cold out.” Rosie has to pause to take a deep breath. “Mommy and Gabrielle are going on a little drive, that’s all.”

After considering this for a moment, Gabrielle shrugs and resumes eating her cracker.

Rosie refocuses upon the road. She cannot believe that she is doing this, and the longer they drive, the more she questions it. She knows that she could still turn around. But all she would be doing was driving back toward people who want to take her daughter from her – and to a husband who has been so stressed out by familial pressure that he has begun to think those people are right.

“Mommy and Gabrielle will be just fine,” she says, as much for her own benefit as the little girl’s. A green sign on the side of the freeway catches her eye: Peace Arch – 90 miles. 

Rosie presses her foot down a little harder on the gas, desperate to reach the U.S.-Canadian border before it is too late.

—–

“Anyone home?” Travis Fisher calls out as he enters his mother-in-law’s home. He wipes his Adidas sneakers on the mat just inside the front door, then works his feet out of the shoes and leaves them by the entry. He didn’t see Rosie’s or Juanita’s cars out front, but Rosie also didn’t message him to let him know that she was taking Gabrielle out; then again, she might have had an errand to do, and she thought Travis was going straight from his breakfast with Landon to work. After realizing that he had plenty of time, however, he decided to come home for a shower before heading to the restaurant.

The silence in the house gives him all the answer that he needs. He hurries up the narrow staircase, hearing the boards creak beneath his feet, and moves to the bedroom that he and Rosie have been sharing since they moved in last year. He barely makes it into the room before he spots a slip of paper on one of the pillows upon the bed. Immediately he goes to it and picks it up. 

I love you more than you know – we’ll see you as soon as we can. 

Although it is not signed, he recognizes Rosie’s handwriting.

“What the hell?” he asks the empty room as a chill goes through his body. The note doesn’t make any sense, and yet, he has a horrible feeling that he knows exactly what it means. Some innate sense drives him toward the lockbox on the dresser, where they keep their few valuables and a handful of important items. 

With shaky hands, he uses the small key on his key ring to open it.

“No. Rosie,” he says, overcome with horror as he realizes that his passport is the only one there. Rosie’s is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Gabrielle’s, which they ordered with the intention of taking her to Puerto Rico to meet Rosie’s extended family as soon as they legally adopted her.

“No, no, no.” Travis grips both sides of his head, the sole passport in the lockbox staring back at him as he understands exactly what has happened.

—–

“Mom? Hey, Mom!”

Caleb Taylor snaps his fingers, and a moment later, Molly Taylor snaps out of her trance. 

“What? Sorry, honey,” she says, shaking herself out of her stupor as best she can.

“I was asking if you could grab this strand of lights,” the college student replies. The four Taylors – Caleb, his twin brother, Molly, and Brent – are gathered in the living room of the family home, where the Christmas tree that Brent and the boys went to cut down this morning stands in front of the large front window, still largely undecorated.

“Sorry,” Molly says, forcing a smile as she takes the green, rubber-coated wire from her son. “I was just… never mind.”

“Thinking about how Gabrielle isn’t here,” Christian fills in, in a solemn tone.

Molly looks at him with an expression that is at once grateful and broken. “Yeah.”

Caleb’s eyes roll upward. “Man, I’m glad it means so much that Chris and I are here.”

“Not the time,” Brent scolds his son. “Not even close.”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Molly says, as she steps around the side of the tree to begin stringing the lights. “I really thought this would be over by now. I know that’s silly – Christmas isn’t some magic deadline. But I was hoping beyond hope that we would have Gabrielle home with us for Christmas this year.”

“We still could,” Christian offers, a bit limply, as he takes the strand of lights from his mother and slides between the tree and window to wind them around. 

Brent and Molly exchange troubled looks.

“Between your grandma’s heart attack and it being the holidays, the court schedule is so out-of-whack,” Brent says. 

“But you’re going back soon,” Christian counters.

“Yeah, but we have to get the proceedings running again, and I’m sure Travis and Rosie’s lawyer will have a hundred more motions to push,” Brent explains. “We don’t want to get our hopes up.”

“I’m doing my best not to,” Molly says. “But I’ve missed so many holidays and so many special occasions with your sister already. I don’t know if my heart can take another.”

—–

Rosie continues her drive north, with Gabrielle occasionally talking, babbling, or attempting to sing along to the Christmas music on the radio. It all feels so normal – she is simply in the car with her daughter – and yet Rosie’s sense of dismay is acute. 

“We go to see Santa?” Gabrielle asks out of nowhere.

“Um, no,” Rosie answers. “Not now.”

“I want to see Santa!”

“We will. Soon. But he isn’t working today.” 

“Oh.” Then Gabrielle returns to watching the passing traffic out the car window.

It strikes Rosie that she could very well be depriving Gabrielle of Christmas entirely by going on the run like this. Maybe this was a terrible mistake. But if they stayed put in King’s Bay, it would’ve only been a matter of time before the courts handed her over to Molly and Brent, or before they somehow twisted Travis’s arm hard enough to make that happen.

Suddenly, something in the rearview mirror catches her attention. She sees flashing red and blue lights approaching quickly behind them.

“Dammit,” she mutters, and she puts on the blinker and checks for an opening to pull to the right. She holds her breath as she merges into the adjacent lane, waiting for the police vehicle to merge right behind her.

Instead, it speeds right past her, on its way to attend to something further north. 

“Thank god,” she says, her entire body trembling as she drives onward.

—–

“Dammit,” Travis says, as the sound of Rosie’s no-frills voicemail recording – You’ve reached Rosie Jimenez. Please leave a message and I’ll respond as soon as I can. – hits his ear. It has to be the fifth or sixth time already, but he keeps trying hoping for a different result. And it doesn’t appear as though his text messages to her are going through, either.

When the doorbell rings, he springs toward the front door – then feels a fresh wave of panic assault him. He slows down, creeping the rest of the way so that he can discreetly peer through the peephole. When he does, he sighs with relief and opens the door.

“Thanks for coming,” he tells his aunt, as Sarah Fisher Gray steps into the Jimenez home.

“What’s going on?” she asks. “Did Molly try something else?”

“No. I don’t think so. It’s…” He hesitates one final time, knowing that once he transmits this message to anyone, he can’t undo it. “Rosie and Gabrielle – they’re missing.”

Sarah’s eyes flare. “What? We need to call 911.”

“No. Aunt Sarah – I can’t–” He shakes his head vehemently. “Her phone is off, too. I’ve tried calling and texting.”

“They could be in trouble, Travis. We all know what Loretta Ragan is capable of.”

“She left a note.”

Sarah pauses. “What kind of note?”

Travis shows her the slip of paper that he found upstairs and watches as she scans it several times, examining it with the critical eye of an investigator.

“Their passports are missing, too,” he adds. “Rosie’s and Gabrielle’s.”

“You really think she took off?”

“She’s been getting more and more, I don’t know, desperate. Like she can’t even entertain the possibility that we could lose Gabrielle. And I’m worried that as soon as we call 911…”

“Brent will find out, and that’s that,” Sarah finishes the thought for him. “Look, you and Rosie do have legal custody, so that helps a little. Even though it doesn’t look good in terms of the case.”

Travis sucks his lips down into a flat line. “Yeah…”

“Let me make some calls,” she says, touching a hand to his arm in a comforting gesture. “We might be able to head this off before it gets worse.”

“Please,” he says, as his aunt pulls out her phone. “Please do whatever you can.”

—–

While the twins continue hanging ornaments on the tree, Molly slips into the kitchen to refresh her tea. Moments later, Brent follows her in.

“Is this all too much for you?” he asks as she faces the stove. 

“No, of course not.” She finishes pouring hot water from the kettle into her mug, then turns back toward him. “I don’t want to take Christmas away from the boys because of all this–”

“They’re adults. They understand that this isn’t a normal holiday.”

“It hasn’t been a normal holiday in a long time, Brent. I was just really hoping that there would be some kind of Christmas miracle.” Her head droops. “I know that’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous.” Before he can say more, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulls it out of his jeans to silence it – but then sees the caller ID and scrambles to answer the call.

“Brent Taylor,” he says hurriedly into the phone. Molly stands by, dipping her tea bag in and out of the newly poured water, until she hears him ask, “The border? How?” Something about the urgency of his voice gives her the sense that this isn’t strictly a professional call. 

Molly sets down her tea on the counter and watches with concern until Brent finally gets off the phone.

“Who was that?” she asks. “Is everything okay?”

“It was a contact of mine,” Brent says. “Someone I asked to keep me on alert, just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case Rosie and Travis tried to take off with Gabrielle,” he tells her, stone-faced.

END OF EPISODE 1207

How does Brent already know what’s going on?
Was Travis right to call Sarah instead of the police?
Will Rosie regret what she has done?
Talk about it all in the comments below!

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