Page 21 of Bluebell Tides

Lily scowled, clearly heavy with thought. “What if…” Fingers flying, she put together a better search, one that tried to capture what Ruth’s life had been like during the mid-00s. After nearly ten minutes of searching, they stumbled upon an interview with Ruth Landers from that time period. Midway through the conversation with the journalist, Ruth mentioned her daughter, Sloane. “Of course, I get to come home every day to a toddler,” Ruth had said all those years ago. “She’s so creative and kindhearted and optimistic. Maybe she’s everything that the publishing world hates! Am I not allowed to say that? Ha. Well, the publishing world is difficult. Sometimes it seems that the powers that be are not entirely happy with fresh ideas. They want the old stuff, regurgitated. It gives me pause. Oh, maybe I should tell you to take that off the record. What am I doing to my own career?”

In the article, the interviewer expressed surprise that Ruth had a toddler. “That must be difficult, juggling all that at once. Especially in a city as expensive as this one.”

“Everything is difficult,” Ruth said. “But nothing is as difficult as it was for my mother. There were so many of us at home growing up, and we didn’t have much of anything. Sometimes no money came in for a month or two, and we had to make do. You should have seen our garden. We grew everything. And during the seasons when nothing came out of that soil, our hearts broke. We knew we’d have to find a better way.”

Soon after, in the article, the interviewer switched to a more professional topic, one more closely related to the publishing world.

“She was poor,” Lily whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it.”

“Who is this woman?” Sophie demanded.

Lily and Sophie eyed one another, their brows furrowed.

But their captivation with Ruth Landers couldn’t whisk them away for the rest of the night and into the morning. Sophie had to wake up early to work the front desk at the Bluebell Cove Eco-Lodge, and Lily had plans with her mother at the flower shop. They made a pact to meet in a few days at The Dockside, Juliet and Theo’s restaurant, where, they said, they could share a burger and a milkshake and speculate more. As Sophie watched Lily get ready to go, she felt a swell of sadness mixed with hope. Now, Lily was the only person in the world who knew the extent of Sophie’s sorrows. She knew that Sophie and Ethan were done. She knew that Sophie was in legal trouble for a fire she hadn’t caused. She knew Sophie was reeling.

But she’s decided to let me fixate on Ruth Landers instead, Sophie thought, praying she didn’t seem too pathetic to her younger cousin.

Before she left, Lily hugged Sophie close and whispered in her ear, “It’s going to be okay.”

Sophie bit her tongue to keep from asking her cousin, "How do you know?"

But in the silence of herself after Lily had gone, Sophie thought about Ruth Landers, about how frightened she must have been to have a baby during her sophomore year at Yale. Somehow, some way, she’d triumphed. But what had happened to her daughter?

Over the next few days, Sophie tried and failed to discover more secrets of Ruth’s past. She read nearly all of Ruth’s articles. She read part of one of Ruth’s novels and interviews Ruth had given over the years. But Ruth never offered more details about her private life or Sloane's. When Sophie eventually searched for more information about Sloane Landers, nothing came up—not even any school records. Sophie wondered whether Ruth had decided to homeschool her daughter or if something was wrong with Sloane that had kept her at home.

Later that week, during lunchtime, a few hours before Sophie was set to meet Lily at The Dockside, Ruth herself walked past the front desk. She wore a white button-up blouse and slacks. She looked almost French, Sophie thought, without really knowing why.

It was surprising to see her after researching her so much. Sophie wondered why Ruth was so difficult to track, and whether she spent most of her time in her room, hiding.

“Good afternoon, Ruth!” Sophie said. She hoped there was nothing in her voice that showed how much she now knew about the mysterious woman.

Ruth frowned, then tried to smile back. “Hi. How are you?” She clutched her purse and looked eager to run for the door and slam it behind her.

“Doing just fine. How are you liking Bluebell Cove? You must know it so well after, what, six weeks here?” Sophie asked.

“Yes, well, like I said, it’s beautiful,” Ruth said, eyeing the door distractedly.

Sophie searched Ruth’s face for clues, then decided to come out and ask the question that weighed most on her mind. “Why did you say people are dangerous here?”

Ruth’s face went pale. “Did I say that?”

“When my cousin and I saw you on the beach.”

“Oh, well. I’m getting older and more frightened.” Ruth shrugged. “I’m sure I was out of my mind, scared of the black water at night.”

“Oh.” Sophie tilted her head.

“Not that I’m senile enough to believe there’s anything to be afraid of out there,” Ruth hurried to add. “You know how writers are. We’re always making up stories in our heads.”

“What was the story you made up?” Sophie asked. “About the people in Bluebell, I mean.”

Ruth laughed falsely and put her hands in her jacket pockets. “Do you mind if we talk about this later? I have an appointment, and I don’t want to be late.”

“Are you interviewing someone?” Sophie asked. She wasn’t sure why, but she thought she caught the beginnings of a lie in Ruth’s voice. “Someone for an article?”

“Yes,” Ruth said.

“Good luck!” Sophie called.