I forced myself across the grass, my pulse thudding in my ears. “Marla?” My voice shook. “What are you doing here?”
Marla jumped, her eyes darting away. “Phoebe… I —”
Before she could finish, the woman in the navy coat stepped forward. “You must be Junie’s mother,” she said quietly. “I’m Suzanne. We… we need to talk.”
I stared at her, my fury and fear fighting for space.
“How long have you known, Suzanne?”
“What are you doing here?”
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Her face crumpled. “Two years. Lizzy needed blood after an accident, and my husband and I weren’t matches. I started digging. I found the altered record.”
“Two years,” I repeated. “You had two years to knock on my door.”
“I know.”
“No. You had two years to stop being afraid, and you chose yourself every single day.”
Suzanne flinched. “I confronted Marla. She begged me not to tell. And I let her. I told myself I was protecting Lizzy, but I was protecting myself. Marla comes around sometimes.”
My throat burned. “While I buried my daughter in my head every night.”
“I found the altered record.”
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Suzanne’s eyes filled. “Yes. And my fear cost you your daughter.”
I turned to Marla, my voice thick with anger. “You took my daughter from me.”
Her lower lip shook. “It was chaos, Phoebe. I made a mistake. And instead of fixing it, I lied. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
We stood in the morning sun, the truth between us at last, with witnesses all around and nothing left to hide.
My vision blurred. “You let me mourn my child for six years. And you let me do it while she was alive.”
Suzanne stepped closer, her face twisting in pain. “I love her. I’m not her mother, not really, but I couldn’t let go. I’m sorry, Phoebe. I’m so, so sorry.”
“You took my daughter from me.”
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