Who would have thought she’d end up here, on Pine Island? The only place in the world she didn’t want to be.
She made up the sofa bed and then crawled between the softest sheets she’d ever felt. Pale light from an outside street lamp fell through the window, lighting the dark room. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep, but it was so quiet, and she could have sworn that the picture of Grace was breathing.
For years, she’d ruthlessly suppressed all thoughts of her daughter. She walked away when Tamica mentioned Grace and turned away when the TV screen showed images of little girls running into their mothers’ arms. She’d told herself that Grace deserved the kind of life Lexi could never offer.
But now, in the dark, with the photograph beside her, she felt that resolve weaken.
She slept fitfully, dreaming dreams that were best forgotten. Finally, at six o’clock, she threw the covers back. Padding barefooted to the bathroom, she was surprised to find a shower. She took her first private shower in years and dried off with a soft white towel.
Her reflection afterward showed a face that was pointed and thin, like a drowned rat, framed by wispy black curls. Towel drying her hair, she dressed in the courtroom clothes that were all she had and went in search of breakfast, which she found at a local diner.
Still, the photograph in her purse kept breathing. Sometimes she heard a giggle, and, irrationally, she thought it came from the bag.
After breakfast, she walked up Main Street and found a local thrift shop that was just opening for the day. She used seven dollars to buy a pair of secondhand Bermuda shorts, a blue T-shirt that had a dragonfly stenciled on the front, and an aqua cotton hoodie. She traded her black flats for a pair of flip-flops and threw the kneesocks away.
Walking out of the store, she smiled, feeling really free for the first time. She had a bus ticket to Florida in her pocket. In no time at all—just seven and a half hours—she’d be on her way out of here …
A yellow smear moved in a gust of black exhaust. A school bus. Small faces peered out from the windows.
Lexi didn’t make a conscious decision to follow the bus; rather, she just kept walking. On Turnagin Way, she angled left and walked up the hill. By the time she reached the four-way stop, there were kids all around, laughing and talking and dragging ridiculously big backpacks on the sidewalk beside them. There were mothers everywhere, too, monitoring crosswalks and conversations and movement.
A line of buses was parked in front of the elementary school. The carpool lane ran through a row of parked cars, parents dropping their kids off.
A black SUV pulled past her and stopped.
Lexi’s breath caught. From her place by the tree, she saw Jude get out of the SUV and go to the back passenger door, opening it wide.
And there, sitting in a big car seat, was a miniature version of Mia, with buoyant corn-silk blond hair and a heart-shaped face.
Lexi inched sideways for a better view, making sure she was partially hidden within the crowd of schoolchildren.
Jude helped Grace out of the car and stepped back.
Grace didn’t smile, and Jude didn’t give her a kiss, and then Grace walked away alone.
Lexi frowned. She couldn’t help remembering how it had been before, when Jude had driven Mia and Lexi to school. The kisses, the hugs, the game-show contestant waves good-bye.
Maybe Jude was having a bad day. Or Grace had just said a bad word or gotten in trouble. Or maybe Grace had asked not to be kissed in public and Jude snuggled with her before they got in the car.
Lexi hardly noticed when the SUV started to move again. By the time she reached the crosswalk, it was in the line of cars exiting the school grounds, but Lexi wasn’t looking there. All of her attention was focused on the little girl in the yellow T-shirt wearing a ridiculously big Hannah Montana backpack. Her shoulders were slumped, and she moved reluctantly toward the school, dragging her feet.
No one talked to Grace as she walked into the school.
Moments later, the bell rang, and the few remaining students ran for the school doors.
Lexi stood on the patch of grass between the bus lane and the carpool lane, staring at the now-quiet brick grade school. She’s in kindergarten. Morning class.
She had walked alone into too many schools herself, with no one waving good-bye, no one coming to pick her up. She remembered how alone she’d felt at lunchtime.
Alone.
That was what Lexi remembered most about her early childhood. She had always felt alone, a stranger in someone else’s family, an outsider in some new school. Even after Eva, Lexi had never quite felt enfolded in a family … until she’d met the Farradays. From that first day of ninth grade, when she’d met Mia and come home with her, Lexi had felt welcomed into their midst.