I shrugged. I didn’t know what we had to talk about. Was she going to ask me why I’d told Sage? We sat on a log on the side of the road. Mrs. Boucher took her pack of Marlboro Lights out of her bag and lit a cigarette. Her hand had a tremor. I suddenly felt very tired. I’d been walking for miles, it was hot, and I had a card for Charlotte in my bag. I wanted to go home and write it.

“I’m very sorry, Libby. I let you and Ellen down. I should have reported what you told me straightaway. I had other stuff going on in my life this summer. It’s all very messy, and I felt I couldn’t face all of you and your mother. I just avoided it. I’ve felt so guilty.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I said. This wasn’t what I’d been expecting. “Does someone else babysit for you now?”

“What? No. Oh—no, Libby. I haven’t been out, and the boys had the wedding coming up and then the Florida trip, and there’s been so much going on.”

“I thought you were angry with me.”

“No. Why on earth would I be angry with you?”

I breathed in and just said it. “Because I told Sage about you and her dad.”

Mrs. Boucher held her cigarette in midair. “You knew?”

“Yeah.” I felt miserable and put my head between my knees. “I feel like I’ve ruined their lives.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

I thought about that, how Charlotte Adams had left. “Yeah. I guess you probably feel even worse.”

Mrs. Boucher gave a half laugh. “Believe me, I do.” I did believe her. She seemed unhappy, different. I wondered if my mom felt unhappy about her situation. I felt an ache in my chest when I thought about how she was willing to take such small slivers of love from someone, how I knew she deserved more than that.

Mrs. Boucher kept smoking, and then she said, “I didn’t know you told Sage. I doubt Grady knows that. He was going to tell them all anyway. So you have to understand that you didn’t do anything. I’m sure Sage knows this.”

“Sage and I aren’t really friends anymore.”

“That’s really sad. I’m sorry to hear that. She’s probably needed you.”