The Starfish Sisters: A Novel(85)

“I scared you?” I snatch off the blankets and grab her, hugging her grasshopper body to me, her hair in my face. Tears spring into my eyes at the smell of her, the safeness of her, the physical reality of her when I thought we might not—

I squeeze my eyes tight. “Holy shit, kid, you scared the hell out of us!”

“Nobody was listening to me,” she says.

“Get your shoes on. Everybody is looking for you and your nana was half out of her mind worrying that a kidnapper had taken you or a moose gored you.”

“I left her a note so she wouldn’t worry!” She shoves her feet into the Crocs she wears constantly.

“Oh, is that right? A note! Well, I don’t know why we were freaked out, then. Oh, wait.” I grab her junk into a ball and point toward the door. “Because you’re ten! You’re not supposed to be out here by yourself.”

She turns around and stands her ground, arms crossed over her chest. “Nobody was listening to me. I don’t want to move to London. It’s my life, too, and I should have a say in this.”

Good for you, kid, I think. Tears well in my eyes. She has fire. She has moxie. She will need them both to live in a world that will try to devour her. I fall on my knees and hug her again, tears in my eyes. “Baby, I was so worried about you. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

As we climb in the car, I text Phoebe. I found Jasmine. Got her and heading to you.





Chapter Twenty-Five


Phoebe


I’m standing at the open front door getting splattered with rain when Joel’s truck pulls up. Suze gets out and carries Jasmine to the door, running through the rain, and deposits her in my arms.

As her long arms and legs wrap around me, I burst into tears, and bury my face in her shoulder, so relieved, so grateful. “Jasmine, baby,” I murmur, shaking, smelling her hair. I sink down on the couch, still holding tight, and I feel her hug me back.

“I’m sorry, Nana,” she says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You did.” I rock with her, and try to get my emotions under control. I lift my head, wipe my face. “Do not ever do that again. Do you hear me?”

She nods, chastened.

“You know how you worry about tsunamis and bombs that are never going to fall and all those other things?”

“Yeah.” She twines her fingers through my hair.

“I worry about you. My whole job when I’m with you is to keep you safe and make sure nothing hurts you, do you get it?”

“Yes.” Tears are spilling from her eyes, too. “I’m sorry.”

“Go take a warm shower and get in my bed. I’ll be up soon.”

She nods, keeping herself small. Before she runs upstairs, she gives Suze a hug, too. I see that my friend’s hair is unbrushed and she’s not wearing a bra—she jumped out of bed to go find her.

When Jasmine goes upstairs, I say, “We need to call the sheriff.”

“Already done,” Joel says. He cocks a thumb toward the porch. “I’ll wait outside.”

He touches Suze on the shoulder and there’s that spark, the lingering that catches my eye. “You can go,” I say wearily.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“No. I’m not.” All the roaring emotions surge through my body, and I’m shaking from head to toe. I can barely breathe, overcome with both the aftermath of terror and the relief. I sink on the couch, bend my head to my hands, and weep. “Oh my God.”

Suze sits down beside me, wraps her arms around my shoulders. “It’s okay,” she says. “She’s safe. Everything is okay.”

After the worst of the toxic fear spills from my body, I raise my head. “Where was she?”

“In the hippie bus. We talked about you painting it when she was with me.”

A twist of panic reappears. I would never have thought of looking for her there. “What made you think of it?”

“I don’t know. I was praying and—it popped into my mind.”

A zing of fury blasts through my sinuses. “Oh, of course God answers your prayers and not mine.” The bitterness is ridiculous and even I know it as it comes out, but I need to be angry and she’s there.

“Phoebe,” she says with reproach. “That’s not what I meant. You know better than that.”

All the terror I’ve been feeling transforms into a white-hot anger. “I don’t know what I know. Clearly I’ve been a fucking idiot for forty years because you and Joel aren’t just friends. You never were, were you? He was the father of your baby.”

“Look,” she says with quiet reason. “You have some things to answer for as well, but this is not the time for that discussion. You’re upset, and very understandably. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

But there’s a roaring in my ears and her reasonable tone is more than I can bear. “Stop trying to settle me. Tell me the truth.”

For a long second, she stares at me. She swallows and straightens her shoulders. “Yes.” She sighs. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you for ages.”

“It’s been a while, so why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. It was weird that I kept the secret in the first place and I knew you would get mad, and I’ve been trying to find the right time, but you can be so . . . volatile.”