She nods. “He used to walk down here every morning before work to check on his crab traps. He loved to watch the sun come up over the sound.” She pulls her eyes away from the rocks at the end of the beach and stares out toward the lighthouse. “He doesn’t do that anymore. Not since that morning.”

I’ve never known any of this. Just that someone found me. It never occurred to me to wonder who.

“He said he caught sight of something white down there,” Glory goes on. “By the jetty.” She swallows hard. Her face has gone gray. “He thought it was a plastic bag, maybe. But it was the little nightgown you had on. He didn’t have a phone with him. And he couldn’t tell if you were—”

“Dead?”

“Breathing,” she says. “He couldn’t tell if you were breathing. But he couldn’t leave you there. To go get help. So he scooped you up and ran up to the farmhouse with you.” Glory closes her eyes, lost in remembering. “I froze. Couldn’t move. Didn’t know what to do. Willa’s the one who called 911. I’ve never seen her that shaken. I still remember the look on her face when she saw George running up the lawn. Screaming for help. With you in his arms.” Glory shudders. “She never really got over that. God, she loved Nicki. None of us ever got over it.” She pauses. Searches the sea like she’s looking for someone. “We loved her so much.”

I can’t believe I’m finding all of this out now, at seventeen, when I should have asked Dad ages ago. It’s weird the holes I didn’t even know I had. All the things I don’t remember forgetting.