Chapter 10
TEN
I stay in the kitchen for a long time while Gabriel and Scarlett head to Sadie’s bedroom. I can hear the sound of glass clinking as they attempt to clean up their mess.
Unable to move, I sit holding Coco, who’s pressing her head into my chest. Resting my chin on the top of her head, I do my best to breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth.
The sweeping waves outside don’t have their usual soothing effect on me. My hands are clenched hard enough to leave little crescent moons in my palms.
I don’t even know what the right next move is, only that I can’t trust anyone.
I’m furious, my blood boiling and churning inside me as I think about what they did behind my back.
How could they treat me like that? Like I’m some fragile thing that can’t be trusted to handle the truth.
Yes, for months I spent hours a day in bed, staring at the ceiling, pill bottles lining my nightstand.
I couldn’t shower without sitting down, couldn’t make toast without burning it, couldn’t speak without my therapist, Dr. Winters, coaxing each word from me like she was pulling teeth. I was completely shattered.
But I started to live again as best I could. I pulled myself back to my feet. I learned how to breathe again slowly. How to stand in grocery stores and playgrounds without collapsing into a heap. How to sleep without medication.
I’m stronger now. And all I can think about is finding the person who has my daughter. Saving her. I will take down whoever tries to get in my way. Even if they are standing inside this apartment with me.
And I’m furious they threw that rock through the window. Furious that they messed with my daughter’s room. That they violated the one space that had remained untouched, that I held sacred in the aftermath.
How could they do that to me? How could they do that to her?
Adrenaline shoots through me and I stand up, lowering Coco to the floor before heading to Sadie’s bedroom.
“Stop,” I demand.
They both freeze, glancing at me and then at the rock still lying on the floor. The jagged hole in the window gapes like a wound, mocking me. That rock feels like it has cracked its way through my chest and left the same gaping hole inside my heart.
Gabriel clutches the broom like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His gaze is fixed on the floor, shoulders caved inward with shame.
Scarlett stands near the bed, hugging herself as if trying to hold broken ribs together. Her swollen eyes betray the silent crying.
The sight of her stirs something complicated in me, rage tangled with understanding.
There’s no doubt in my mind that she loved Sadie. She would have done everything for that girl. And I know Sadie felt the same way about her. That’s why when I told Sadie she was going to the camp last July, she asked for Scarlett to go with her instead of me.
Sadie had spent endless sleepovers at Scarlett and Matt’s house before they divorced. I remember how she would burst through our front door after weekends at “Aunty Scarlett’s,” chattering about movie marathons and ice-cream dinners, privileges I never allowed.
“You’re not much fun, Mommy,” she’d tell me often when I said no to something she wanted, and those words stung more than I let on.
Aunty Scarlett let her watch more movies than educational shows and eat sweets before dinner. She didn’t care about bedtimes, vegetables, or even chores. Whenever Sadie was ill, Scarlett would do what any loving aunt would do.
She would show up with cans of ginger ale, cough drops that tasted like candy, and comic books that Sadie would devour in a night.
When Sadie was little, Scarlett would hold her in her lap and stroke her hair until she fell asleep. I’d find them later, with Sadie curled against Scarlett’s chest, both breathing peacefully, while I stood in the doorway, feeling a little alone outside the circle they’d created.
Before everything broke, Scarlett was the sister-figure I never had, the aunt Sadie deserved and never had because I’m an only child and so is Gabriel.
Someday, I might forgive her for this betrayal. But not now. Not when Sadie’s room lies violated and my trust is shattered like the glass shards on her bedroom floor.
I take the broom from Gabriel. “I’ll finish up.”
Without another word, they step aside to let me, with Scarlett hesitating for just a second in the doorway before walking out of the room. They know I’m not playing. They can see the anger in my eyes or feel it emanating from my skin like a heatwave, a warning.
They’re pretending they care about preserving my daughter’s room. But they can never get it back to the way it was.
I start clearing up the glass, sweeping it into a pile and then into the dustpan. Each scrape of glass against wood sends a jolt through me.
Then I pick up the blue dolphin. Sadie’s dolphin. I returned it to her room last night, and it must have fallen from the windowsill when the glass shattered. A thin cut now runs along its fin, revealing the white stuffing inside. I don’t remember it being there before.
I sit down on the bed with the dolphin clutched in my hands, hot tears pressing behind my eyes. I blink them back. I’m not going to be weak this time.
The last thing I need is for them to think I’m fragile, that they have to protect me… again.
Only when my fingers start to ache do I realize I’ve been gripping the dolphin so tightly it now feels like a rope. I’ve been twisting it between my hands and now my knuckles are pale and my wrists are throbbing.
I swallow hard. My throat feels raw, like it’s scraped by a dozen razor blades.
When I’m done, I accept Gabriel’s offer to board up the window temporarily while I call Alice, who immediately gives me the number of a good local handyman. I don’t tell her the truth of what happened, just that some kids on the beach threw a rock.
When I call the handyman, my voice sounds too calm when I speak, as if it belongs to someone else.
“No problem, Mrs. Ellis. I’ll come first thing in the morning.” Even though I’m married, I’m one of the few people in my social circle who choose to keep their maiden name, which holds a special place in my heart.
Every time I hear Ellis, I remember my mother. It’s like a souvenir she left behind for me. Gabriel understood. When Sadie was born, though, we agreed that she would be a Sutton, like her father.
Looking around me at Sadie’s things, I’m relieved we’re not somewhere cold, where her room would freeze overnight. Relieved that nothing else can harm it while I’m not looking.
I spend many hours inside the room, lying on Sadie’s bed, holding the dolphin, while the sun shifts across the wall, inch by inch. But I’m not lying there helpless.
I have a notebook and a pen, and I write down everything I know so far.
I start with my theory about what I think happened to Sadie. Then I move on to the photo I received and the notes on it. Including the one about Gabriel. Then I write about the second photo Gabriel told me about.
Though I know Gabriel and Scarlett are responsible for the broken window, I still write it down. Facts are facts, even when they hurt. I just need everything on paper right now, so I can start piecing it all together.
Left with nothing else to jot down, I place the notebook beside me and stare into space, thinking of Sadie. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh. As if somehow I might reach her, as if she might reach back to tell me where she’s being kept. As if distance and time might mean nothing to us.
Of course, nothing comes. I don’t feel her presence, not even while in her room.
Lunchtime comes and goes, but I refuse to eat with them. I refuse to eat at all, only drinking my coffee in our room. Not because I can’t sit with them at the same table, but because my appetite is gone. The smell of food alone makes my stomach turn.
After they finish eating, Gabriel goes to the library and Scarlett disappears to her room with Coco.
When the apartment settles into an uneasy quiet, I finally go to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
But when I enter, I halt in the doorway, staring at the bouquet of peach roses on the table. They are gorgeous, the petals plump and vivid. Sadie would have absolutely adored them. And I absolutely hate them.
One of them must have gone out and bought the flowers, even though I said there would be no memorial and no petals on the water. I’m angry at being betrayed again, but I’m too tired to argue with them or let them try to convince me my daughter is dead.
Instead, I get up, take the bouquet, open a drawer, and grab the kitchen scissors.
I pull the bin out from under the sink and stand over it, cutting the flowers apart one by one.
I let them drop into the trash instead of leaving them in water to thrive.
I keep going until the petals are bruised and the stems snap.
I’m staying here until I have answers. Until then, no petals will be scattered into the sea in my daughter’s name.
When I turn around, Scarlett is standing there, guilt written all over her face.
“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I ordered the flowers over the phone after my appointment was canceled. They just arrived a few minutes ago. I didn’t think it was right to send them back.”
“Well, now they are gone.” I snip the last of a stem. We don’t need to discuss them any longer.
Scarlett drops into a chair and for a long time we are quiet until she speaks.
“Do you remember when we took Sadie to the botanic garden and when she saw the peach roses she was so excited she started giving them names and assigning them personalities? I think one was called Princess Peaches. Was she seven at the time?”
“Yes.” I let my hands hang limp at my sides, scissors dangling. “It was the first time she had seen so many of them in one place and she refused to leave, saying they would be lonely without her.”
Scarlett’s mouth twitches, and suddenly she’s crying again, silent tears trickling down her cheeks. She presses the heel of her hand to her cheek to rub away the wetness.
I know her pain isn’t only about Sadie. Every time she looked at my daughter, she remembered hers.
Stifling my anger toward her, I go to wrap an arm around her shaking shoulders. “You would have made such an amazing mother.”
“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “You’re a much better mom than I could ever be.
Matt wanted children so much and I was so terrified when I fell pregnant.
” She shrugs. “Maybe losing Amelia was my punishment for not wanting her in the first place. I told Matt I didn’t want children and he was okay with it.
Until he wasn’t. I think at some level he blames me for what happened to our baby girl.
I didn’t tell you this, but those two days with her I was not myself.
I felt like I was drowning. I wouldn’t have been a good mom to her. ”
“That’s not true. Never ever think that. Amelia would have been so lucky to have you.” When I saw how wonderful she always was with Sadie, I knew she would have been the best mom.
But Scarlett just cries harder, head bowed against my chest, and I rock her like I did Sadie when she was little.
She finally pulls away and grabs my hand. “I’m sorry. This is not about me. It’s about you.” She squeezes my hand tight. “I know you really feel that Sadie is still alive, and if you’re right, I want to help you find her. I mean it this time. We’ll look into this ourselves. You’re not alone, Judy.”
Just as I’m about to force a reply through the lump in my throat, the doorbell rings.