Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
I don’t remember walking back to my room. What I do remember is the sound of my own loud and uneven breaths, scraping in and out of my chest. I remember fumbling with the door handle, my hands clumsy, before I finally got inside and shut the door behind me.
Now, the once spacious room feels smaller, like it shrank in size since I left earlier to go to lunch. The walls definitely feel closer than they did before, and the ceiling lower.
I press my palms to my thighs and bend forward, dragging in air, while my vision pulses at the edges.
Megan Hale. She’s still here?
So many questions fight for space in my mind, jumbled and out of order.
Does she remember me? Does she know I’m Sadie’s mother?
I know she wouldn’t recognize my name on the guest list. She never knew my adopted surname. On paper, I could be anyone.
Getting to my feet, I pace for a while, rolling the garnet pendant gently between my fingers. Then I stop and pull my phone from the hidden pocket of my handbag. Switching it back on, I find a stack of missed calls and messages from both Gabriel and Scarlett. I read a few of Gabriel’s.
Are you okay?
Have you spoken to anyone?
Did you find her?
Judy, you promised you’d check in.
Liar. I promised no such thing. Teeth gritted, I type with stiff fingers.
I’m fine. Just settling in. Didn’t see her yet. Stop calling or writing. I will update you.
I hit send before I can soften it. I don’t have to keep in touch. Not after Scarlett. Not after learning what he did to me, hid from me.
The phone rings and vibrates immediately, his name flashing on the screen. I decline the call before anyone can hear. Then I head to Instagram and my heart lurches when I see that Lucille has responded.
That night I saw Sadie talking to some older guy on the beach. When she disappeared, I mentioned it to a counselor, but they told me it was just a staff member.
If I had read this message before Saul called about the bracelet, I would have spiraled. Even Lucille’s reassurance about a staff member wouldn’t have made a difference. My mind would have raced through all kinds of worst-case scenarios.
Now that I’m convinced Sadie is in this camp and all I have to do is find her, I just feel relieved. I don’t have to worry that some predator might have taken my daughter.
I’m still staring at the message when a knock sounds at the door.
Startled, I drop the phone. It clatters against the floor, loud in the quiet room. Without thinking, I kick it, sending it skidding behind one of the large potted plants near the window.
“Just a second,” I call, forcing my voice to steady as I straighten.
Another knock. “Miss Ellis, are you in there?”
After a deep breath, I smooth my hair and open the door. It’s her.
“Megan,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
She’s older now, obviously, and the softness she once had is replaced by something sharper and more defined. She still wears her hair long, but it’s so fair, it’s hard to spot the grays. It’s pulled back in a loose ponytail.
She’s dressed in a dark gray suit. There’s a pen and a mini notebook tucked into the jacket’s single breast pocket. Underneath, she’s wearing a pale-blue button-down shirt with the camp’s insignia.
As I stand there, unsure what to do, her smile blooms across her face.
“Judy.” She steps forward without hesitation and wraps her arms around me.
Even after thirty-two years, I can feel Megan’s warmth, her familiarity, and it makes my skin prickle.
With an audible sigh, she pulls back and studies my face with tears in her eyes. “I saw you looking at me through the window. I wasn’t sure if you recognized me.”
“I—I didn’t, not really. You knew I was here, in the camp?”
“The center… that’s what we will start calling it, a new brand, a new beginning.
” She lays a hand on my shoulder. “No, I didn’t know at first. When my staff informed me that we got a new guest called Judy, I didn’t think much of it.
There are many Judys out there, after all.
Then I saw you through the window and I could not believe my eyes.
I never in a million years thought I’d ever see you again. ”
She’s said a lot, but my mind fixes on two words that stand out like bright lights flashing in the night. My staff. That can only mean one thing.
“You took over the camp after Mrs. Potter died?” My voice comes out uneven, broken into fragments. I found out she died from their website, three years ago.
“No, her daughter, Mandy, took over after her death. She modernized the place, made it more fancy when she expanded the donor programs, and rebranded it as a retreat model.”
“So Mandy is the director now?” I remember her. She was around ten when I watched her follow her mother around the camp like her shadow.
“On paper, she is. But I don’t know for how long.
” She pauses. “She was in a tragic car accident eight months ago that led to a leg amputation.” Megan closes her eyes and opens them again.
“Thankfully, she’s recovering, but, as you can imagine, it’s been…
slow and painful for her, both physically and emotionally.
The board asked me to step in as interim director until she’s well enough to return. ”
“I’m so sorry,” I say automatically. “That’s devastating.”
Megan nods once. “Anyway, I couldn’t let the camp suffer while she heals. Thanks to Mrs. Potter, I know the ins and outs of how it works. I was actually her assistant for a few years before being promoted to leadership.” She shakes her head. “I miss that lovely woman.”
“Me too.” Who wouldn’t?
Mrs. Potter was a mother figure to all the kids who lived under the roof of this camp, and finding out she was dead filled me with a deep sense of sorrow.
After all, she was the one who brought me here.
She found me starving and filthy, then fed me, cleaned me, and comforted me.
Then she found me a mother who loved me enough to raise me as her own.
I wouldn’t have survived without her. She gave me more than anyone ever had at the time.
After my biological mother overdosed, I was taken in by Doris, a distant aunt I’d never met before. But she had only let me stay because she needed someone to play housekeeper for her, and to get her hands on the little money my mother had left, which was intended for my upkeep.
Once that dried up, she announced she could not take care of me and dropped me off at a shelter, where I stayed for a month until one of the male helpers there tried to touch me. I was thirteen.
I lived on the streets of Millfield Bay, a town not far from Saltspray Cove, for another month until Mrs. Potter found me sleeping in a bus shelter near a run-down church, and brought me here. Thank God she did.
Gabriel does not know about this part of my past. All he knows is that I was adopted and nothing more.
I told him my biological parents were dead, and I got a new mom and that was that.
I wanted him to think of me as the person he knew after the adoption, not before.
Not the daughter of drug addicts, with a mother who overdosed and a drug dealer father who died in prison, shot while trying to escape.
At my request, my adoptive mother also never told him, keeping our secret until she died at sixty-four from complications after a stroke.
His mother would never have allowed me to marry him if she knew.
Pushing my sad childhood out of my mind, I study Megan, my mind full of questions. “So you never left?”
“Looks like we have so much to catch up on. Come and sit with me.” Megan walks into my room and sits on the couch, crossing her ankles like she did often as a teenager. I hesitate in the doorway, but she gestures for me to join her.
She waits until I’m settled before continuing. “I never left. This is home. After I gave birth to my baby, Mrs. Potter helped arrange the adoption with a good family.” She lets out a low chuckle. “She treated me like I wasn’t ruined. Like I still had a future. She also made sure I finished school.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.” I reach out to squeeze her arm. “I really am.” I almost forgot she had been a pregnant fifteen-year-old when she came to the camp, a week after I did. From what I knew, she was only meant to stay until she gave birth to the baby.
“Yeah, she was a generous soul, that woman. After graduating from high school and doing a business course the camp paid for, I worked side by side with her, helping where I could, doing my best to pay her back. Then I was promoted to be a counselor for ten years, and ultimately made it to the top.”
“Wow! I’m impressed. You should be proud of yourself.”
She smiles softly, her eyes bright. “Thank you. Saltspray has changed since we were kids, as you can see. It’s all glamorous, but the heart of it is the same.
After Mrs. Potter died, Mandy felt it was the right time to modernize the place, make it something better for the next generation.
Now people pay a lot of money to send their kids here, to help them detach from the toxic culture out there and become better versions of themselves.
Same goes for the adults, as you can see. ”
She turns to look at my face. “You look good, Judy. I always hoped you’d land on your feet.
I’ve thought about you many times over the years.
Wondered where life took you. I waited every summer, hoping you would return.
But you never did.” She looks down at her hands but not before I catch the sadness in her features.
“I thought about you too. It’s nice to see you again.”
She stands and steps toward the window, looks out at the trees. “Mandy might not return,” she continues. “After what she’s gone through, she might decide to step down. We’ve talked about transition planning. The board has been encouraging me to formally apply for the permanent role.”
“And you want the position?”
“I wasn’t sure at first.” She turns around, her face glowing. “But I love this place. I want to see it thrive even more, to be a safe haven for the families who trust us, and for the scholarship kids who need what we needed. I would do anything for Saltspray. With—”
Her gaze drops, then she bends and reaches behind the plant before I can stop her. She straightens with my phone in her hand, turning it over once, then again.
“I’m sorry, Judy. There are no phones allowed in the retreat program,” she says evenly.
“The rules used to apply only to the kids, but a few months ago, the board decided that a wellness retreat would only be effective if all our guests are fully immersed.” She pockets the device.
“I’ll ask the front desk to hold onto it for you.
It will be returned when you decide to check out. ”
A quick flash of irritation zings through me, but I swallow it down. I need to tread lightly. I’m dealing with the interim boss. “I’m sorry, I—”
She lifts a finger to her lips. “Relax. You won’t lose your stay over this.
Old friends deserve a little grace, don’t you think?
” She smiles. “Especially when they come back home. I often wonder how it would have been if we’d both worked here together, in the place that saved us. It’s deeply fulfilling work.”
I immediately think of Sadie; I had thought she would benefit from coming here and return to me a happy version of herself.
Sudden dizziness hits me and I drop my head in my hands, eyes squeezed tight. When I look up, the room is swimming.
“Are you all right?” Megan touches my arm and stands, moving toward the door. “I guess it’s all too much information to take in right now. I should let you rest.”
When she finally leaves with my phone, I sink onto the bed, staring out the window at the trees beyond the glass, at the place that once saved me, and might have saved my daughter too… saved her from me.
I could have gone right out and asked Megan about Sadie. But if Sadie chose this place over a life with us, what would she do if she knew I had tracked her down? If Megan tells her I’m here, she could easily run away again, and this time, to somewhere I’d never find her.
No, I need to find her first, see her with my own eyes, talk to her, mother to daughter.
In my work I’ve helped so many children find their way back from the edge. But I’m not her therapist. I’m her mother.
And I just hope I can persuade her to come home.