When they finished their ice cream, they retired to Skye’s room, where they lay on the bed, listened to music, and scrolled through social media. They took a couple of selfies, and they each posted a pic of the other, with the caption Slay, girl!
Positive thinking was a good thing, as was propping up your best friend.
Skye fell asleep first, as she always did. She could sleep through a storm, with the lights on and the music blaring. Leah didn’t know how she did it. She personally had to have it dark and quiet. So she carefully climbed up, turned off the light, turned off the music, and had just crawled back into bed when her phone buzzed.
Want to meet me tonight?
She answered immediately.
Yes.
The reply came in two minutes later.
See you there in ten minutes.
Careful not to wake Skye, Leah slipped out of the bedroom, and then out the back door, closing it quietly behind her. She made her way quickly and quietly to the Habitat for Humanity site, where the raw timbers loomed up into the night sky, the framework already completed.
She waited there for Him, in the shadows, her nerves on high alert.
She had sort of expected a message from Him tonight, but she never knew for sure.
She was happy it had come.
Chapter Nine
August 17
I’m not sure how long I sit staring at my daughter’s sweet picture. Her eyes sparkle, her mouth curved into a smile, and she is so innocent.
But yet, apparently...she wasn’t.
How did this happen? I thought she was a virgin. She’d never ever told me that she was involved with anyone. She told me everything, so if she didn’t tell me this, then it was because she knew it was wrong. She knew I wouldn’t approve.
Who was the man who had taken advantage of her?
Because having sex with a fifteen-year-old girl is criminal. She wasn’t of age to consent.
My blood boils and my stomach churns as I scroll through the blog entries.
Ry, she calls him.
I don’t know anyone by that name.
I grab my phone and send a quick text to Skye.
Hey, sweetie. Was Leah involved with anyone that you know of?
She answers immediately. Like...a guy?
Yes.
She replies instantly. Nope.
Are you sure? You can tell me.
Three bubbles. She’s answering. I wait.
She would’ve told me if there had been someone. She told me everything.
That’s true. She usually did. They giggled and chatted until late every night. But I’m staring at the evidence, and Leah hadn’t told her. That’s telling, in itself. To not tell her mother was one thing. To not tell her very best friend in the world...that’s something else.
I scroll to an entry where he is mentioned. She doesn’t mention him by name, but it’s definitely about him.
I saw him today, World. I’m telling you because I can’t tell anyone else. Because you don’t know who I am, and so you can’t tell anyone.
I’m not supposed to see him. People would say it’s wrong, but what no one understands is that I don’t have anyone else. My mother is always working. My father lives across the country. My guy (and it feels so weird to call him that now!) understands me. All he wants to do is talk, and hold my hand, and tell me that I’m beautiful.
He’s so patient with me. Not like the guys my age. They all want to have sex on day one, and then that’s that. Not my guy. He’s so sweet. So kind. If this is wrong, then the world itself isn’t right.
My heart races and pounds, threatening to break free from my chest.
My baby. My baby. I didn’t suspect a thing.
But how could I? As she says, I was always working. She was alone a lot.
This is all my fault.
Even the night she died... If only I had gone with her into the water like she’d asked. If only.
I would’ve saved her or—or I would’ve died trying.
I stare around Leah’s room. It’s the same as it always was, yet I see it through new eyes. This was a girl who was having a sexual relationship with someone. Yet, she still has teddy bears on her bed, and a pink penguin piggy bank on her shelf. This is the bedroom of a girl who was just turning into a woman, or at least, that’s the way it should’ve been.
But someone...someone took it upon himself to speed up that process. And I want to know who. I know it won’t change things now, but I still have to know.
I search through Leah’s desk, through her notebooks, through loose papers in her closet, through jewelry boxes and storage cubbies. I look in every place I can think of, and I don’t see any evidence of the man or his identity.
The only thing at all is the blog.
Ramblings from the Island
I perch on her bed again, on the sheets she slept in last, and read the very first entry.
Hi. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. But that’s best, isn’t it? I can tell you all things and you won’t judge me. And you can comment back, and I won’t judge you.
You can call me Leah. I live on an island, and it’s too quiet here. Nothing ever happens, although I do love the sea. My parents are divorced. I don’t see my dad much because he lives in Phoenix now. He calls me every other day or so, but it’s not the same. I have friends. I have a nice home. But I’m not very happy. I wonder why that is? Does anyone else out there ever feel the same?
My eyes well up when she says that she isn’t happy.
God. The only reason I worked so hard was to grow the business at this inn and give Leah a legacy, something she could have and keep forever. Many would think growing up on an island was idyllic. It kills me that she didn’t.
I’m wooden as I get up and walk down the hall. I’m silent as I comb my hair and pull it into a neat ponytail. I’m pensive as I drive to the church for Leah’s memorial service.
I feel like a fraud. They are honoring a girl I thought I knew backward and forward, and it turns out there was a part of her I didn’t know at all.
What kind of mother does that make me?
But somehow, I have to put that out of my mind and attend her memorial service, as though everything is the same as it was twenty minutes ago.
My legs are leaden as I climb the steps into the church, and I follow the soft music to the sanctuary. Candles are everywhere, flickering against the stained glass. Hutch stands at the front, and a crowd of teenagers fill the pews. A picture of Leah is on the overhead screen, smiling during a youth group meeting, and I slip into the back row, hoping no one notices me.