Epilogue
We’re standing on the Blue Hammock, Saul Daniels’ newly fixed-up fishing boat. The fresh, white paint is clean and glossy now, the name carefully redone along the side. It’s nothing like the crooked, peeling mess it used to be. Offering to fix it was a gift from us.
The wind pushes my hair back as I look out at the open sea. The deep blue and endless water rises and falls beneath us, and the boat rocks gently with it.
Gabriel stands on one side of me, Sadie on the other. We’re quiet as we drop red rose petals into the water, watching them float away, each of us remembering Scarlett in our own way.
It’s been two years.
Two years since we rescued Sadie and survived the horrors of the Saltspray Cove Camp. We thought we’d never return, but after giving ourselves enough time to heal, here we are.
I close my eyes, relishing the light spray of salty water on my face. When Gabriel’s hand touches mine for a moment, I don’t pull away like I have so many times in the past months. He made terrible mistakes, some I might never forgive. But I made my own mistakes too.
Being close now doesn’t mean we’re getting back together or pretending the past didn’t happen. It just means we both survived the same nightmare. For now, that’s enough.
“Are we going inside now?” Sadie asks, raising an eyebrow. “Saul said he wants a rematch of Scrabble. He doesn’t want to accept that I won.”
“We all know you cheated.” Gabriel pulls her against his side with a chuckle, while Coco runs in circles around them with her tongue hanging out.
I smile, thinking of Saul, the kind old salt who helped us figure out that Sadie was in the camp all along.
I tuck a lock of Sadie’s hair behind her ear and kiss her forehead. “Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll be down in a minute.”
Father and daughter head below deck, followed by an excited Coco, and I hear Sadie’s laughter, bright and full of life.
I stay where I am and look toward the stretch of land where the camp stands.
It’s still run by Mandy, who—even with her disability—doesn’t trust anyone else to run it, at least for now. I can’t say I blame her.
I reach into my pocket and pull out an envelope, and I can’t help but smile when I take out the card.
You are invited to the wedding of Alice Hale and Clint Williams
Alice did it. Without her mother’s toxic influence, she finally built the life she always wanted with the man she loves, and they will be getting married in six months.
I reach into my other pocket and feel the smooth plastic of an empty syringe. I’ve kept it this long, afraid to throw it away, worried my fingerprints might be on it, or maybe just unwilling to part with the tool that saved me.
Ready to let go, I open my hand and let the syringe drop into the sea, watching it disappear instantly. The rest of the weight I’ve been carrying rolls off my shoulders.
There’s one more thing in my pocket, a letter from Scarlett.
I found it when I returned to the apartment following our escape, tucked under my pillow. But I could not bring myself to read it, and even misplaced it for some time. I know it’s an apology for what she did to me with Gabriel.
For Judy. To be read one year after my death.
Scarlett signed her name on the back, as if she knew I’d need proof it was her.
Now, I sit on one of the white benches and smooth out the letter on my thigh. A corner of the paper shakes in the wind.
I hear Sadie laughing below deck and loud barking. Smiling at the sounds of joy, I start to read.
Dear Judy,
If you’re reading this, I’ve been gone a year. I’m writing this before I take the risk of sneaking into the camp to save you and Sadie.
I know now that Sadie is alive. That knowledge brings me more peace than I deserve.
In case I don’t make it out alive and you managed to survive, I need to tell you how sorry I am for the affair, for hurting you in a way that can never be undone. I cared for you deeply, and I hated myself for betraying you. If I could take it all back, I would. I’m deeply sorry.
But there’s another reason I’m writing this. There’s something important you need to know. I don’t even know where to begin, so I’ll start with the truth I should have told you a long time ago.
Judy, the baby that died in the hospital that night wasn’t mine.
It was yours.
Sadie is my biological child.
The words blur, then come into focus, and I feel like I can’t breathe. The pain in my chest is unbearable. I think I might faint.
I want to stop here, but I keep reading.
You were in the bathroom early that morning, thinking your baby was still asleep. While you were gone, I noticed she wasn’t breathing. By the time you came back out, I had already switched the babies.
After giving birth, I was overwhelmed, depressed, and terrified. I didn’t want to be a mother. I didn’t believe I deserved her. You did. You always did.
That’s why I let you leave the hospital with her.
I stayed close because I loved my little girl. Giving her away didn’t mean I stopped being her mother. Watching you raise her was both my punishment and my comfort.
There were times I regretted what I did, but by then it was too late. You were already her mother in every way that mattered. You loved her and protected her. You gave her the life I couldn’t.
I watched you with her and knew I did the right thing, and I was right to stay silent.
She is my biological daughter, but you did the rest. She may not be your daughter by blood, but she is by love.
If you find her and she’s alive, please protect her. Love her the way you always have. It breaks my heart to think I may never be there to comfort her through her first heartbreak, or watch her walk down the aisle, carrying a bouquet of peach roses. But you will be there for both of us.
I’m sorry I lied. Maybe one day you’ll understand why I did what I did and find it in your heart to forgive me.
Please don’t let this truth poison what you have with her. You are her mother. You always were.
I am truly so sorry.
S.
P.S. Sadie and everyone else never has to know the truth, but that’s your call to make.
The paper slips from my fingers and falls to the deck. I don’t pick it up.
My chest aches, empty and raw, like something inside me has been torn open and can never heal. Tears run down my face, hot and unstoppable as the truth hits.
Scarlett died to save her daughter, not mine.
I finally pick up the letter, stare at the last words, then tear it to pieces.
* * *
If Where’s My Daughter had you racing through the pages, don’t miss Liar Liar, an utterly gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller by L.G. Davis.
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