“We wouldn’t have been able to go to the police,” I remind her. “The next day was the earthquake.”

“Still, things would be different.”

I see a flash of an image of Belinda, the girls, and me arriving here at the inn today and finding Martin instead of Elliot. Because if Elliot had told Martin nothing, that’s what could very well have happened. “They could be worse,” I tell her.

A few seconds of silence pass between us.

“Did you tell him what happened?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.”

“And you trust him?”

“I do. He still cares for me, Sophie. Even after all of this, he still loves me. He would never do anything to hurt me or those I care about.”

A few more quiet seconds pass.

“He knows about Kat? And he knows where I have to go? What I have to do?”

“Yes. He . . . he said he’d accompany you if you don’t want to go alone. I told him how hard this will be for you. He’ll take you if you want him to.”

I find the notion touching, a generous gesture from an obviously kind man. But I’ll not be taking anyone with me on the journey to Arizona. I want the last hours I have Kat all to myself.

I tell her this, and Belinda nods in understanding. She knows the depths of mother-love now.

“But you are coming back here, aren’t you?” she asks.

“Yes.”

She reaches across the sofa to squeeze my arm. This makes her happy, the idea that I shall return, that she can give me a home and a child to sing lullabies to, that she can give me versions of what has been taken from me.

“I’ll need to go back to San Francisco at some point,” I say, and she frowns.

“Why?”

“I must see what’s left of the house. And I need to see the lists of the dead and injured. I need to make sure. I need to make sure he’s gone.”

She leaves her hand on my arm and says nothing.

And then she nods. She needs to know, too.

We need to be sure.

20

Morning birdsong is drifting over my head through the half-open window as I awaken. I lie in the most comfortable bed ever with Kat next to me, still asleep, lips slightly parted. A quilt that has been dried in the fresh country air is tucked up to our chins. It would be so easy to just stay at the Loralei with Kat and never leave. So easy to pretend I don’t know that Candace still lives. So, so easy, if only Kat didn’t know.

But surely the ease would in time give way to guilt and shame.

I need to leave today for Arizona. The longer I wait to do what I must, I know the harder it will be. I must go while I still have the resolve to do the right thing.