Sophie nodded. “What do we do now?”
Zane crumbled his napkin between his hands. “I vote for making up for lost time.”
“You could come to Cliffside Bay for a visit,” Maggie said.
“We could show you around. I could take you up to see Dad,” Zane said.
“I’d like that. Maybe I could even stay over, if you have room for me.”
“Anytime,” Zane said.
“Will your parents be all right with all of this?” Maggie asked.
“Totally. They already gave their blessing when I told them about your letter. Actually, it was more of a Native American chant with some incense, but you get my point.” She glanced out the window for a moment before turning back to them. “They asked if you guys could come back to the house.”
“Now?” Zane asked. Maggie almost laughed. He looked like he used to when a teacher announced a pop quiz back in high school.
“It doesn’t have to be now,” Sophie said. “Maybe next week?”
“We’d love to meet them today,” Maggie said. “We’re here and everything.”
“Right. Sure. Bring it on,” Zane said.
An hour later, Maggie and Zane were welcomed into the home of Rhona and Micky Woods. In the entryway of their Spanish inspired home, Sophie introduced them to one another, as if it was the most ordinary event in the world. “Mom and Dad, meet Zane and Maggie.”
“We’re pleased to meet you,” Rhona said.
“You too, Mrs. Woods. Thank you for inviting us into your home,” Maggie said.
“Please, no formalities. Call us by our first names,” Rhona said. “We’re going to be family.”
Maggie wasn’t sure what she’d imagined Sophie’s parents to look like, but it wasn’t this. For one, they were of Hispanic descent. For two, they didn’t look old enough to have grown children.
“Yes, please. We don’t do formal here.” Micky Woods was of average height and weight, with sharp brown eyes and thick black hair. “We’re tickled you had time to come by and meet us.”
“Can you believe Zane’s eyes?” Sophie slipped her hand into Rhona’s. Sophie towered over her petite mother. Rhona was about five feet tall and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. She wore a long skirt and a peasant blouse. Bare feet peeked out from under her skirt.
“I cannot,” Rhona said. “I’ve never seen the exact color of your eyes on another person. Until now.” Rhona’s eyes were the color of dark caramels and framed with thick, black lashes.
Brown spiral curls swept her shoulders. Her skin glowed. Maggie might need to rethink veganism if it caused one to look like Rhona Woods.
“Follow me to the patio. This time of day is quite pleasant out there,” Rhona said. “I’ve just made an iced herb tea and gluten free cookies.”
Sophie made a gagging gesture to Maggie and Zane as they followed Rhona and Micky through the front room to the kitchen where a set of wide doors opened to a stone patio. Maggie repressed the urge to giggle. This little sister was the perfect kind of trouble.
Throughout, the floors of the house were made of large square tiles in the color of terra cotta pots. High ceilings and big windows let light in from every angle. Brightly colored furniture and art work hinted at the free, creative spirits who inhabited the house.
They took seats on the outdoor furniture arranged around an unlit gas fire pit. A canopy provided shade from the afternoon sun.
An azure swimming pool with Spanish tiles took up part of the large yard. Raised beds hosted a vegetable garden. Maggie recognized zucchini and green beans. Green tomatoes ripened on vines by the fence.
The conversation began with a summary of what they knew about the night Sophie disappeared from Cliffside Bay. Rhona, bless her, listened without interruption, other than touching a cotton handkerchief, provided by her husband from the pocket of his shorts, to the corners of her large eyes.
Maggie told the story with little emotion, until she reached the part about the baby. “When Jackson and I arrived in the house, my mother…she screamed this scream I’d never heard before—and I knew he’d done something to the baby.”
Zane, sitting next to her, took her hand. “Mags, I can tell the rest.”
“No, I can do it,” Maggie said. “He’d stuffed her in a burlap sack. When he ran past me, she didn’t make a sound. We all assumed she’d died.” Maggie’s voice broke. She fixated on an ant making its way up an aloe plant in the pot next to her chair. Keep it together.
Zane jumped in then. “Jackson’s father, who happened to be Mae’s doctor, tore the town and countryside apart looking for a body.”
“But they never found one,” Micky said.
“Because there wasn’t one,” Rhona said.
Maggie nodded and wiped her face. How could there be any tears still left?
Zane took up the story, describing what they recently learned from Darla. “Maggie and I’ve been best friends since we were little kids, but we had no idea of our parents’ affair with each other. We were stunned to learn we shared a sister.” He explained about Hugh’s illness. “Unfortunately, he won’t understand that Sophie’s his daughter. Most days he doesn’t remember me either.”
“I’m sorry, Son. That’s rough,” Micky said. “I went through the same thing with my mother. It’s heartbreaking every time.”
“That’s right,” Zane said. “Maggie and I both wish we could ask him about his relationship with Mae. But we won’t ever know the truth about what happened between them.”
“We do know they wanted to be together. My mother told me that just before she died. But the divorce from my father wasn’t final. And then, well, it was too late.”
“We both knew immediately that we wanted to try and find our sister,” Zane said. “And that brings us to today.”
“What a pair of detectives you were,” Rhona said.
“The internet made it easy,” Zane said. “We were shocked by how easy it was to find her.”
“Which made us wonder how it could’ve been that no one thought to look for her in the first place,” Maggie said.
“We had no idea of any of this,” Micky said. “If we’d known—as much as it would’ve hurt, we would never have wanted to keep her from her father.”
Sophie left the loveseat she had been sharing with her mother to perch on the arm of her father’s chair. She wrapped her arm around his neck. “Daddy, it’s no one’s fault except Roger Keene’s. We’ve already established that.”
“What kind of man would do this?” Rhona asked.
“A sick one,” Maggie whispered.
“Poor lamb,” Rhona said.
“My mother would’ve been happy to know what a good childhood she had,” Maggie said. “I can attest to her character and that she was a fine, unselfish mother.”
“How wonderful that you’ll be able to share your memories with Sophie,” Rhona said.
“Tell them about the rest, Maggie,” Sophie said. “About how everyone thought you were dead.”
“What?” Micky looked alarmed.
“It’s a long story,” Maggie said.
“Have another cookie,” Rhona said. “We have all afternoon.”
“When I got the call that my dad was dying, I got on a plane to confront him about my sister’s death.” She summarized her visit to the cemetery and what she found there and of Zane’s sudden appearance.
“Goodness, you must’ve thought you were seeing a ghost,” Rhona said to Zane.
“I did,” Zane said. “Absolutely, I did.”
“And here you were bringing flowers to your best friend,” Rhona said. “Isn’t it poignant?”
“Something like that.” Zane smiled. “We had to sort through the mess, including that we were not seeing things, but that Roger Keene had set up quite a web of deceit.”
Sophie squeezed her father’s arm. “It turns out neither of us were dead.”
“Two sisters whose deaths had been greatly exaggerated,” Micky said.
“Mom, are you okay?” Sophie asked.
“I just remembered something.” She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” Micky sat forward in his chair and put his hand on her knee.
Rhona seemed to gather strength from her husband’s touch. “One time, when I was waiting for Sophie outside of her kindergarten class, there was a man across the street in a pickup truck. I noticed him because I knew most of the parents and I didn’t recognize him. When the children started to spill out of the classroom, I got out of my car, as I always did, to greet her just outside the gate. As I did so, the man rolled down the window of his truck. Sophie ran out to the sidewalk and yelled to me, ‘Mommy’ and ran into my arms. When I rose to my feet and took her hand, the man was watching us. He wore a Giants baseball cap low over his forehead and dark glasses that covered his eyes. Still, I could see that he was crying. Tears glistened on his cheeks. I was frightened but also felt worried about him. Crying men always rip my insides to pieces. I asked him if he was all right—could I help him?” She paused to take in a shaky breath. Zane interrupted before she could continue.
“What kind of truck was it?” Zane’s voice was no louder than a whisper.
“It was a Chevy. Early seventies,” Rhona said. “Yellow.”
“How do you know what year?” Zane asked in the same strange voice.
“My father had the same truck when I was a child. His was blue, not yellow, but I recognized the make and model,” Rhona said.
Maggie’s body had gone numb. Hugh’s truck had been yellow. An old Chevy, she was certain.
“What did he say?” Zane asked. “What did he say when you spoke to him?”
“He looked at me for a second and then down at Sophie. He said, ‘You have a beautiful little girl.’ I said, ‘Yes, I do. Thank you.’ Before I could say anything else, Sophie interrupted.” Rhona’s hands shook as she pressed them together in her lap.
“What did I say?” Sophie asked.
“You said, ‘My mommy tells me I should worry more about being kind than pretty.’ And he answered, ‘You have a very smart mama—a wonderful mama who loves you—a mama who waits for you to get out of school. Not everyone’s so lucky.’ ”
Rhona glanced over at Sophie with a slight smile on her pretty face. “And Sophie said, ‘Yes sir. She’s always here. Every day. And sometimes my daddy comes too.’ ” Rhona’s bottom lip trembled, but she continued through her tears. “He said, ‘Your daddy’s awful lucky to have such a sweet girl.’ Then, he nodded at me and tipped his hat. ‘You have a good day, ma’am.’ And he drove off.”
No one said anything for a good ten seconds. Maggie’s heart beat so fast she thought it might explode. Hugh knew. He knew about Sophie.
“I hadn’t thought of that moment for years,” Rhona said. “But his jawline—it was like yours, Zane. Perhaps that’s what jiggled the memory.”
Micky glanced over at his wife. “He knew we had her, but he thought she was better off with us.”
Maggie’s body had gone numb. She shifted to look at Zane. “He knew.”
Zane stared back at her. “Why, though? Why would he do that, knowing that she was his daughter?”
“Maybe he didn’t know until then,” Sophie said. “Maybe he didn’t want to yank me out of a happy home.”
“He could’ve discovered your existence later, I suppose,” Zane said. “He wouldn’t have wanted to hurt you by taking you away from your parents. That’s not something he would’ve been able to do.”
Just like that, she knew. “That’s not why he did it,” Maggie said. He’d known all along the baby had survived. He would have thought to look in the newspapers. No one like Hugh Shaw would have left any stone unturned. Hugh hadn’t helped look for the baby because he saw the article in the newspaper or on the internet—he put it together that the baby was his. He hadn’t told the Wallers about his relationship with Maggie’s mother because he didn’t want anyone to know the truth.
Hugh had done it to protect Sophie from Roger Keene. He’d sacrificed his little girl so that she could be safe.
Maggie addressed the Woods. “This has been bothering me from the first time we learned that Hugh was the father of my mother’s baby. Why wouldn’t he have thought to look outside the assumption that the baby had died? I knew Hugh well. He was smart—a street smart type of man. It would definitely have occurred to him to search the hospitals and news articles for a baby.”
“He knew,” Zane said. “He knew.”
“He chose to give you a better life, Sophie,” said Maggie. “One that didn’t have the threat of Roger Keene in it.”
Zane was as pale as the day he’d found Maggie at the cemetery. “I don’t understand how he could let her go.”
Micky spoke, his voice hoarse. “Because he was a father and he wanted what was best for his little girl.”
“When you’re a parent, you grow superpowers in self-sacrifice,” Rhona said. “Suddenly, all that matters is protecting your baby from harm. Even if it means giving them up.”
“My mother left us when I was a baby,” Zane said. “He raised me by himself, always apologetic that I didn’t have the love of a mother. It wasn’t just that he was afraid of Roger Keene. He wanted you to have a good mother, Sophie. One who was always there when you came out of the school yard.” He looked over at Rhona. “And you did. He was right. You have a wonderful mother.”
“I can share mine,” Sophie said, wiping her eyes. “I can share her with both of you.”
“Everything about my wife is tiny, except her heart,” Micky said. “She has room.”
Rhona smiled and pressed her hands in the position of a prayer over her chest. “Lots and lots of room.”
Zane smiled. “We know a few others who could use some motherly love. You have room in there for a couple of overgrown boys?”
“We should break her in gently,” Maggie said.
A few days later, Maggie, in the passenger seat of Zane’s truck, took in a deep breath as they parked in the visitor section at the memory care facility. About fifteen minutes from Cliffside Bay, the facility appeared new and well-maintained, with manicured lawns and shrubs. Flowers planted along the walkways bloomed in shades of red and purple. The weather was in the upper seventies and sunny with an occasional breeze that whispered around her bare legs.
Sophie had already arrived in her own car and was waiting for them under an awning by the front entrance. They hugged and exchanged greetings before walking into the lobby that smelled of coffee and vanilla. Warm wood and a high ceiling made it seem more like a hotel than a healthcare facility. Maggie sighed with relief. She’d been worried Hugh had to spend his last days in a building that smelled like split pea soup and urine, like so many. How was Zane paying for this?
The receptionist obviously knew Zane. She smiled and greeted him by name. “This isn’t your usual day. And I see you brought visitors.”
“This is my old friend Maggie Keene. She used to work for my dad back in the day,” Zane said before pausing, clearly unsure how to introduce Sophie.
“I’m Sophie. A friend of the family.”
“Well, how sweet of you both to come. I’m Frieda. I manage this facility, so I know all the patients and their families well.”
“How is he today?” Zane asked.
“About the same as last week,” Frieda said.
Zane nodded, his eyes flat. “Which means he won’t remember me.” He glanced over at Maggie. “He looks remarkably the same as he did years ago, but his mind isn’t there any longer. Most of the time anyway.”
Maggie nodded. Zane had already shared this with her. He was nervous she would be upset when she saw Hugh’s decline for herself. She would be, whether he warned her or not. Her feelings couldn’t be spared. “Can we see him now?” Maggie asked.
Frieda nodded. “Absolutely. They�
�re just finishing lunch. Usually Hugh spends time outside on the lawn after his noon meal. But we can bring him inside for a visit.”
They followed Frieda down a long hallway. “The patients’ individual bedrooms are down this hallway. We encourage families to decorate their loved ones’ rooms with photographs and even furniture from their former homes to nudge memory.”
“Does that work?” Sophie asked.
“We’re not entirely certain. It depends on the patient and how far advanced they are,” Frieda said.
They were at the end of the hallway now and entered a sitting area, decorated in warm colors and comfortable furniture with picture windows that looked out to a rolling lawn. A staff member looked up from arranging a blanket around an old woman in a wheelchair to greet them with a smile.
“We only have room for twenty-five patients. For every two patients, there’s one staff member.”
Seriously, how was Zane paying for this?
Frieda used a key to unlock the glass doors that opened to a covered patio. “We keep everything locked up, so that no one wanders away.”
“That’s what made me realize how bad Dad was,” Zane said. “He wandered out of our apartment one night. I have no idea what was in his mind, but I found him on the beach at sunrise with nothing but his boxer shorts on, about to dive into the water. I knew then it was time to find a safe home for him.”
“As I’ve told Zane before, we love Mr. Shaw. Despite his memory loss, he’s a sweet man. Very well-mannered and complimentary to the staff, even though he doesn’t remember us from day to day. He’s a charmer too. Sometimes, he thinks our Nurse Kelly is his girlfriend and picks flowers for her.”
“He remembers all the lyrics from his favorite rock bands too,” Zane said. “Frieda said it’s common for Alzheimer’s patients to remember songs and nursery rhymes longer than anything else from their past.”
“Yes, and memories from their younger days seem to remain the longest. Whereas, that from the recent past is the first to go,” Frieda said.
A dozen patients and almost as many staff relaxed in the shade of the patio. Maggie’s heart pounded as she searched the old faces for Hugh.
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