“Well, I’ll be dammed,” Ray says, sitting down in one of the chairs on the front porch.
Brody grabs his head in his hands after he lowers himself to the top step.
“What the hell, dude?” I ask, sitting down beside him.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Rachel … I got a letter from her, and it led me here.”
Petey takes the other chair. “This is fucking crazy. How the hell has she been under our nose all these years?”
“Her and Rachel made a pact to keep this secret.” Brody looks up at the stars. “The letter from Rachel said she knew I would do right by Jackson. Thank god I don’t have to make that decision. It’s been taken out of my hands.”
Everyone looks back to see Maggie and her daughter still locked in an embrace.
Ray stands up and lights a cigarette. “Why don’t you kids head home? Maggie and I will handle it from here. It’s late, and you all have little ones.” He leans against the banister, watching the two women. “Let’s just keep this between us, yeah?”
We all nod in agreement.
“I can’t believe you and Maggie followed Petey and me,” I tell him, laughing.
He chuckles. “There’s no force greater than a mother’s love. Maggie has always felt her daughter was alive.”
“I always thought she’d accepted she was gone,” I say as Petey pulls me to my feet.
“We all carry more than anyone knows.”
I watch as Maggie pushes Jenny back, brushing hair out of her face. The two of them stare at each other, and my heart squeezes painfully. My own mother barely gave me a second glance. The only time she looked me in the eye was the day I snuffed the life out of hers.
Petey runs his hand over the back of my neck, tugging me against his chest.
My heart goes out to Maggie, but I’m not sure what to think about this daughter of hers. She let her mother suffer. It raises my ire, but I trust and respect Maggie.
She’ll do what she thinks is best.
Chapter Twelve
Jenny
My heart breaks as I stare into my mother’s eyes. She’s so much older. I look away, suddenly ashamed.
“No. We’re not doing that.” She grabs my chin and forces me to look at her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“Me too, honey. Me too.”
Her gaze slowly roams over my face as she takes in every freckle, every line. Her fingers dance lightly over my cheeks. “Just as pretty as I remember.” She smiles sadly.
“I don’t understand what is happening,” I say, fighting to remain still in her arms as my deep fear of being seen rises to the surface.
She shakes her head. “I think Rachel is bringing you back to life … something she couldn’t do for herself.”
“But we agreed …” I pause, because it’s irrelevant now. Rachel set this into motion for whatever reason, and there is nothing I can do about it.
“I have missed you,” she says again, ignoring my internal struggle.
I bury myself against her chest, something I’ve dreamed of doing since I was fourteen years old. “I’m so sorry,” I say as my tears come fast and hard.
Her arms tighten around me. “I’ve got you now, baby. I’ve got you now.”
