“Whatever,” Julie said, waving away the oxygen mask. “Did someone get my dad’s board?”

The guards looked at each other, and her heart sank. “I need my dad’s board,” she said, moving toward the door.

“We have to write this up,” said the older guard.

“I’m going to find my surfboard,” Julie insisted.

“It’s here.” Jana Jacobs stood in the doorway to the station. The board was propped between her and Tarek. “It washed in down the beach.” She offered a tenuous smile, and held out the friendship bracelet with the anchor charm. “Hey, that was cool what you did.”

“That’s okay,” Julie said. “You keep it.” She didn’t need the bracelet. She knew where her anchor was. “Thanks for grabbing the board.”

“Thanks for grabbing Vanessa,” Jana said. “We were really scared.”

“I’m fine,” Vanessa said from behind the O₂ mask. She paused, then said, “I’m fine, Julie. Okay?”

Twenty-One

Camille found her daughter sitting on the rocks at the base of the lighthouse, just outside the fence. It was sunset, and Julie sat very still, her hair damp from a shower, her legs stretched out in front of her. How beautiful she looked, strong and calm, like a new person, very different from the shrinking, tentative girl who had let herself be pulled out to sea in a riptide only a few months ago.

“Hey,” Camille said, climbing over the rocks.

Julie turned to her. “Am I in trouble?”

“Should you be?”

“Should I have let Vanessa drown? If I’d had time to think about it, I might’ve been tempted.”

“Very funny.” Camille smoothed her hand over Julie’s hair. “This new cut you got in Aix is great on you,” she said.

“Thanks. Do you think Deep Cuts will figure out how to keep it?”

“Sure. You just have to tell them what you want, and don’t let them lead you astray.”

“I miss France,” Julie said.

Me, too. Camille batted the thought away. “Papa used to remind me that sometimes the best journey of your life is the one that takes you home.”

“And sometimes it isn’t,” Julie pointed out.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the crying gulls and the surf surging against the breakwater rocks. Camille thought about Finn’s observation about Julie when they’d parted ways. Much as it stung, there was a grain of truth in what he’d said.

“Listen,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. It’s always been true, but maybe I’ve never said this, Jules.” She turned to her. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You are my greatest achievement and you’ve given me the proudest moments of my life—not just today, but every day. And I’m afraid I never made sure you understood that fully. I’m afraid I led you to believe that when your dad died, my life started to suck, irreversibly. The loss was horrible, and so was the grief. But you’re here, and you’re my miracle.”

“Mom, okay. I get it.” Julie’s voice sounded thick. The expression on her face was soft with affection—and understanding. Camille realized this was exactly what Finn had been talking about. How had he known?