LEXIE
I roll onto my side and stare at Daisy, and I see Sam mirror my posture. Our gazes lock over the baby. Tears run down my cheeks.
We reach for each other, our hands meeting above Daisy’s belly. He wraps his fingers through mine and rests them gently over her—our hands entwined, just as our lives will be. Together, we will be a shield to protect her. Together, we will be a family to nurture her.
We talk in private whispers, and our conversation winds all over the place. I cry a lot as I talk about things that I haven’t dared to even think about in decades. I talk because I understand now that secrets can poison a person, and I talk because vulnerability can make a person strong, and I want to be strong. I talk about Dad. I talk about Winterton. I talk about Annie, and all of the times I shared with her that were good, and all of the times that she made me proud. And when I finally fall asleep, I’m thinking of those good times, and for the first time since her death, I have found a way to smile when I remember her.
I don’t fall asleep until nearly 3:00 a.m., so the movement outside my bedroom door at 4:30 a.m. is exceedingly unwelcome. I drag myself out of bed and open my door to find my mother and her bags on the other side. Her face is puffy, her eyes are beet red, but her jaw is stubbornly set. I stare at her in disbelief.
“Tell me you’re not catching that plane.”
“I have to.”
I silently lead the way down the stairs into the kitchen. Mom follows me, and when she joins me in the room, I close the door behind her—because I’m going to scream, and I don’t want to wake Sam or Daisy.
“How can you even consider—”
“I have to go back.” Mom says the words with force, and I laugh hysterically.
“Is there anything that he could do that would force you to realize how evil he is?”
Mom looks at me, stricken.
“How could you think I’d go back to him? I’m going back to the elders—there are other children there, other teenagers—he needs to be brought to justice. What he did to my Annie—” Mom’s voice wavers, and I realize that I’ve misinterpreted her decision—and now I’m stricken, too. We stare at each other across the table, and Mom leans in to stare right into my eyes.
“He will not have any control over my family ever again. I promise you, Lexie. I can’t make it right—but I can make sure the whole community knows what he did. I know there’s not much we can do to have him charged, but maybe once I tell them, the elders will ask him to leave.” I grimace, because we both know the elders in Winterton tend to protect their own. Mom shrugs at me. “But even if they don’t, I can make damned sure every woman and child in that town knows that he’s a dangerous, evil man.”
“And once you’ve done that?” I ask hesitantly.
Mom swallows heavily, and then she whispers, “I’ll figure it out when the time comes.”
“Mom, you are always welcome here,” I say, and then I raise my chin. “Maybe you’re even needed here.”
Mom’s eyes fill with tears, and she walks briskly around the table and wraps her arms around me. We are almost the same height, but she holds both hands hard against the back of my skull, pressing her cheek against my hair. I feel the jerking movements of her sobs, and I return her embrace.
“I have to go,” she chokes. “I already called the cab, and I can’t miss that plane.”
“Okay, Mom,” I say, and we release each other, slowly and reluctantly. I pull my coat on and walk her outside, where we wait in silence. When the cab pulls up to the curb, she turns to embrace me for one last hug.
This embrace is one that Mom and I have not shared since before Dad’s death. This hug is different from any of the others. Neither one of us is tense—we are both soft, and open to each other. Something has been righted in our relationship.
Something has healed.
“I’m really proud of you,” I whisper into her ear.
“And I have always been proud of you. And wherever he is—wherever they are together—your dad and Annie are proud of you, too.”
Once Mom has left, I return to my warm bed and to the solace of Sam’s arms. As I fall back to sleep, a memory of Annie surfaces. It’s the wildly imaginative Annie—the girl who could do anything she set her mind to—the girl who was innocent and undamaged by life. The vision looks a lot like Daisy, and as I drift off to sleep, I make my sister one last promise.
I’ll find a way to give her daughter the life that she deserved.