“In a way, I did,” Lily said.

“Tara and I were part of the search party that went out looking for you. Hundreds of volunteers—almost everyone from Hubbard's Point joined in, combing the beach and woods, Little Beach and the marsh and the Indian Grave. Then people from Black Hall came, and beyond.”

“We wondered,” Tara said, “whether you'd just decided to walk away.”

“Oh, Tara . . .”

“Who could have blamed you?” Bay asked, holding her hand. “You never wanted to talk about it back then, but we knew . . .”

Lily just stared at her two friends, across all the years that had separated them.

“You were an expectant mother, about to have his baby,” Tara said fiercely. “You must have been frantic to escape. Oh, Mara . . . Lily . . . I understand. I'm glad you got away. Your poor baby.”

Lily's heart seized with the words. She flushed, afraid her friends would look at her and see evidence of Rose all over her. Couldn't they see the truth written in Lily's eyes? Looking back and forth, she could hardly breathe. Was it safe? Did she dare? Keeping Rose a secret had seemed the only way, but she couldn't keep it from these two good women, her first best friends. They were mothers themselves, wonderful and loving and kind. Taking a deep breath, she decided.

“You have to promise not to tell, not a soul, not anyone,” she said.

“Promise what?” Tara asked.

Bay's eyes gleamed, and Lily could tell that she already suspected. “Lily?”

“I have a daughter,” Lily said quietly.

“Oh, Lily,” Bay said. “That's wonderful.”

“I can't wait for you to meet her, but she's in Rhode Island,” Lily said. “Where Edward won't find her.”

“That's good,” Tara said. “You're so right to keep her from him. What's her name?”

“Rose,” Lily said.

Bay nodded, smiling. “That's beautiful.”

“It was for Granny. Granny and her garden. I missed her so much.”

“Does she know?” Tara asked.

Lily nodded. “Right after Rose was born, I called her at my great-uncle's in Providence. I couldn't call her at home, because I wasn't sure whether the phones were tapped or not. It was his seventieth birthday—a party that had been planned for months. I knew Granny would be there—he was her only brother.”

“Maeve must have felt such mixed emotions,” Bay said. “Knowing she had a great-granddaughter . . .”

“But being unable to meet her or know her,” Lily said. “I often wonder how she held it together, right after I left. It must have been so hard.”

“For all of us,” Bay said, squeezing her hand, gazing into her eyes as if she still couldn't quite believe Lily was really here. “We couldn't believe it, couldn't bear it.”

“We had a candlelight vigil,” Tara continued. “Down on the boardwalk. There were so many people, they filled the beach. It was such a warm night, so beautiful—we had all been searching for you, for days. Everyone was exhausted, losing hope.”