I’m fine. Just settling in. Didn’t see her yet. Stop calling or writing. I will update you.
I hit send before I can soften it. I don’t have to keep in touch. Not after Scarlett. Not after learning what he did to me, hid from me.
The phone rings and vibrates immediately, his name flashing on the screen. I decline the call before anyone can hear. Then I head to Instagram and my heart lurches when I see that Lucille has responded.
That night I saw Sadie talking to some older guy on the beach. When she disappeared, I mentioned it to a counselor, but they told me it was just a staff member.
If I had read this message before Saul called about the bracelet, I would have spiraled. Even Lucille’s reassurance about a staff member wouldn’t have made a difference. My mind would have raced through all kinds of worst-case scenarios.
Now that I’m convinced Sadie is in this camp and all I have to do is find her, I just feel relieved. I don’t have to worry that some predator might have taken my daughter.
I’m still staring at the message when a knock sounds at the door.
Startled, I drop the phone. It clatters against the floor, loud in the quiet room. Without thinking, I kick it, sending it skidding behind one of the large potted plants near the window.
“Just a second,” I call, forcing my voice to steady as I straighten.
Another knock. “Miss Ellis, are you in there?”
After a deep breath, I smooth my hair and open the door. It’s her.
“Megan,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
She’s older now, obviously, and the softness she once had is replaced by something sharper and more defined. She still wears her hair long, but it’s so fair, it’s hard to spot the grays. It’s pulled back in a loose ponytail.
She’s dressed in a dark gray suit. There’s a pen and a mini notebook tucked into the jacket’s single breast pocket. Underneath, she’s wearing a pale-blue button-down shirt with the camp’s insignia.
As I stand there, unsure what to do, her smile blooms across her face.
“Judy.” She steps forward without hesitation and wraps her arms around me.
Even after thirty-two years, I can feel Megan’s warmth, her familiarity, and it makes my skin prickle.
With an audible sigh, she pulls back and studies my face with tears in her eyes. “I saw you looking at me through the window. I wasn’t sure if you recognized me.”
“I—I didn’t, not really. You knew I was here, in the camp?”
“The center… that’s what we will start calling it, a new brand, a new beginning.” She lays a hand on my shoulder. “No, I didn’t know at first. When my staff informed me that we got a new guest called Judy, I didn’t think much of it. There are manyJudys out there, after all. Then I saw you through the window and I could not believe my eyes. I never in a million years thought I’d ever see you again.”
She’s said a lot, but my mind fixes on two words that stand out like bright lights flashing in the night.My staff. That can only mean one thing.
“You took over the camp after Mrs. Potter died?” My voice comes out uneven, broken into fragments. I found out she died from their website, three years ago.
“No, her daughter, Mandy, took over after her death. She modernized the place, made it more fancy when she expanded the donor programs, and rebranded it as a retreat model.”
“So Mandy is the director now?” I remember her. She was around ten when I watched her follow her mother around the camp like her shadow.
“On paper, she is. But I don’t know for how long.” She pauses. “She was in a tragic car accident eight months ago that led to a leg amputation.” Megan closes her eyes and opens them again. “Thankfully, she’s recovering, but, as you can imagine, it’s been…slow and painful for her, both physically and emotionally. The board asked me to step in as interim director until she’s well enough to return.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say automatically. “That’s devastating.”
Megan nods once. “Anyway, I couldn’t let the camp suffer while she heals. Thanks to Mrs. Potter, I know the ins and outs of how it works. I was actually her assistant for a few years before being promoted to leadership.” She shakes her head. “I miss that lovely woman.”
“Me too.” Who wouldn’t?
Mrs. Potter was a mother figure to all the kids who lived under the roof of this camp, and finding out she was dead filled me with a deep sense of sorrow. After all, she was the one who brought me here. She found me starving and filthy, then fed me,cleaned me, and comforted me. Then she found me a mother who loved me enough to raise me as her own.
I wouldn’t have survived without her. She gave me more than anyone ever had at the time.
