“Sadie. She’s my daughter.”
I can literally feel the air being sucked from the room.
Megan’s hand flies to her mouth. “Judy…I didn’t know. Why didn’t you say anything? Sutton…” She narrows her eyes. “But you are?—”
“I kept my maiden name when I got married to remember my adoptive mother by.”
“Sadie was really your daughter?” Megan looks dumbfounded, her face softening. “I…had no idea. I never made the connection.” Her eyes search mine, as if she’s looking for some trace of Sadie’s features on my face. “I’m so, so sorry for your loss.” She grabs my hands and squeezes them tight, tears springing to her eyes. She leans forward slightly. “Is that why you’re here?”
Now that she knows, I might as well tell her the rest and ask for her help. “I don’t think Sadie is dead,” I say. “I received a photo of her alive, a recent photo. I don’t know who sent it.”
“That’s cruel,” she says. “Whoever sent that to you is exploiting your grief.”
“That’s what my husband thinks too. But in the photo, Sadie was wearing a bracelet, one I was told permanent residents wear here.”
Her eyes widen. “You think Sadie is here with us? Oh, Judy. I’m so sorry but she isn’t. Your little girl died that night and I’m truly sorry. I am.” Megan shakes her head, pressing a finger to her chin. “Permanent placements are rare. And heavily regulated and reserved for disadvantaged kids when we can’t find them a new home and they have nowhere else to go. The bracelet…I don’t even remember when we last issued those.”
My fingers fly to my throat, pressing against the sudden tightness there. I open my mouth but no sound comes. Megan’s face blurs, then sharpens. Her lips are still moving but her words fade beneath the high-pitched ringing in my ears.
Something inside me collapses. The desperate part of me wants to call her a liar, while another part crumbles with the possibility she’s telling the truth. A hot ball forms in my belly, then burns through my chest, up my neck, and behind my eyes. A tear makes its way down my cheek.
I press my lips together, trapping both the sobs and accusations behind my teeth. “I don’t want to believe she’s gone. I came because I thought…” I chew a corner of my lip. “I thought maybe she chose to stay. That she didn’t want to come home.”
“She could not have stayed without parental consent.” She blows out a breath. “And there I was thinking you came here because you wanted to test out the adult retreat programs. As much as I’m grateful you came,” she continues softly, “I don’t know if being back inside these walls is helping you heal. Judy, you don’t have to leave tonight,” she adds quickly. “But maybe we can talk in the morning. I could refer you to someone in town who can properly support you.”
I try to smile but my face won’t cooperate. In my body, everything feels raw, and the wound that’s been rotting insideme since the moment they told me Sadie was gone splits open again.
Megan stands up and walks to the door. I take that as an invitation to leave.
“I’m glad you told me,” she says. “I wish we were seeing each other again under different circumstances. I’ll come and see you in the morning, okay? To say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry, Megan,” I say as I move past her and into the hallway. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come.”
If Sadie is not here, where is she?
Even if she isn’t in the camp, perhaps there are some answers to be found. Because I know this much…I didn’t come all this way for nothing.
TWENTY-EIGHT
I don’t realize Megan has followed me until I reach my door and scan the key card. The lock flashes green.
“Judy?” she calls and I turn to see her hurrying toward me.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she says, out of breath. “I feel terrible for opening up those wounds after everything I told you. If I had known?—”
“I’m fine.” I swallow the sob lingering in my throat. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
She studies me briefly and gestures to the door. “May I?”
“Sure.” I push the door open and she steps inside but remains near the entrance, turning to me.
Not knowing what else to say to her and feeling suddenly dizzy, I move to the desk and pick up the glass water carafe. I’m finding it very hard to keep my fingers from shaking.
I still manage to pour a glass, then before bringing it to my lips, I pause and carry it to the bathroom. I rinse the glass thoroughly under running water before filling it again with tap water.
When I step back out, Megan is watching me. “You still do that?”
“Do what?”
