“Judy and I were at her side until the very end. We held her hands, whispered encouragement, forced smiles onto our faces, so the last thing she saw wasn’t fear or sadness. She made us promise to look after Faith, to give her the life she never got to live. We promised, of course, but the weight of that promise was almost too much for either of us. Judy took Rosie’s death the hardest. After all, she and Rosie had been friends since they were kids. But even for me, having only known Rosie for a few years,the loss was almost unbearable. It felt like another chunk of my heart had been ripped out and cast into the abyss.
“That’s awful,” said Diane, blinking back tears.
“Yes, it was. But we couldn’t let ourselves get consumed by our grief. Faith needed us. And if there’s one thing that Rosie taught us, it’s that life goes on, no matter what.” I took a breath, pausing to collect my thoughts before continuing. “Things moved quickly after that. With Rosie having no family to speak of, the state had to intercede. They took the baby into their care, promising that they’d do right by the little one. Judy tried to fight it, and so did I. She wanted to adopt the child herself, but social services wouldn’t allow it. I asked Andrew if there was anything he could do, but it was beyond his control. And so Faith was taken from us, never to be seen again.” Tears fell unwillingly from my eyes, a waterfall of sorrow. Even after all these years, the pain felt just as raw.
Diane stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. “I can’t believe they took her like that. Couldn’t they see that the child was better off with the people who loved her?”
I shrugged, my heart heavy. “Unfortunately, there are rules for these sorts of situations. The state cares about legality, not love.” I turned and gazed out the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass. It was as if the heavens, too, were weeping for Rosie and her little Faith.
“How does anyone get over something like that?” Diane asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Slowly,” I answered, remembering the grief that had engulfed us in the weeks following Rosie’s passing. “Very slowly. And you never really get over it. You just learn to live with it. But I find solace in the thought of that little girl who was taken from us too early. Even though we don’t know what became of her, I’d like to think she’s out there somewhere, living her best life, unaware of the tragedy that marked her earliest days.Rosie would have wanted that for her, a chance at happiness unshadowed by the past. Still, it’s hard not to dwell on what might have been.”
We sat quietly, both of us lost in our own thoughts, neither of us knowing quite what to say.
“What happened next? When did you decide to move back to Kitty Hawk?”
“After I finished law school, Andrew and I moved to Asheville, where we opened a practice of our own. There, I met a man by the name of Owen Simmons. He was a wealthy businessman who also happened to be a lover of literature. He and I became good friends. Little did I know that a few years later, he would become governor. Soon after he took office, he offered me the position of judge for the Outer Banks District. I accepted immediately. It felt like an opportunity to finally do some good, to prevent tragedies like Faith’s from happening again. That’s when we moved back to Kitty Hawk, the pull of the ocean too strong to resist. And thus began another chapter of my life.”
“And you’ve been here ever since?”
I nodded. “Ever since.”
“What about Sims Chapel. Did you ever go back?”
“Not to Sims Chapel. But I went to see my mother several times in Rogersville,” I replied, recalling those trips across the mountains. “The last was in the winter of 1973, to attend her funeral. But after that, no. I never went back.”
“What about Jack? Did you ever see or talk to him again?”
I shook my head. “I kinda thought he might show up for Mother’s funeral, but he didn't. In fact, I remember rehearsing what I’d say to him if I saw him, but fortunately it never came to that.”
“Is that something you regret?”
“What? Not seeing him again? Or not being able to say to him all the things I’d rehearsed?”
“Either. Or both.”
I shrugged. “I guess a part of me has always wanted to see him again, to make amends for what I did. But the more time goes by, the more I realize the past should just stay there.”
Diane took a breath and cleared her expression before going on. “So, where do you go from here? What’s next on the docket for the Honorable Sara Hastings?”
I chuckled lightly, my gaze drifting toward the window, the darkened skies offering me no answers. “Ah, now that's the million-dollar question, isn't it?” I ran a hand through my hair, the weight of age catching up with me momentarily. “I'm not as young as I used to be, or as sharp. The adventures I seek now are not quite as thrilling as they were in my youth. But the quest for justice? That's a journey I’ll never tire of. And there are still battles to fight right here at home.”
“Like what?”
“There’s the fight against inequality, for one. There's the issue of homelessness that still plagues our town. And don't get me started on the educational gaps in our school systems.” I paused, the ice clinking against my glass as I took a long sip of my drink. “Beyond that, I don’t know. I try to live each day as it comes, not worry too much about the future. I’ve always believed that if you try to do good every day, the future will sort itself out.”
“That’s a pretty philosophical outlook,” Diane noted, scribbling down something in her notepad. “Does that kind of wisdom come with age?”
I laughed. “I suppose it does. As you age, you tend to see the bigger picture. The petty things that would bother you when you were younger seem insignificant when you’re older.”
“Does that mean you’ve made peace with your past?”
“Yes,” I answered carefully. But even as I said it, I could feel the sting of doubt. I quickly squashed it down with a swig of my drink. “I’ve made peace with the fact that there are some things in my past I can't change. The mistakes I've made, they're a part of me now. I've had to learn to live with that.”
32
Feeling slightly weak,I suggested we break for lunch, and Diane readily agreed. We moved to the solarium, where we nibbled on sandwiches Judy had prepared earlier that morning and sipped on iced tea. Our conversation shifted to lighter topics. We discussed the weather and the change in seasons. Diane was particularly fond of fall, a sentiment I shared.
