I can see how hard this territory is for Emily, a land of memory that’s shifting violently as she looks at it. Nothing will ever go back to the way it was. Because the way it was was a lie. “Then what? What was different?”

“We always shared a room in Bowling Green. Cameron slept on a trundle bed in our room. She was afraid of the dark.”

“But in Malibu she had her own room.”

“Yes.” Her voice wobbles, vibrates. “Oh my God.”

I say nothing, giving her space to put the pieces together. To see what she couldn’t see back then.

Her mouth is a tight line, white where her lips press together. Then she says, “Everyone came for a whole week that year. Lydia and Ashton had the stomach flu and spent most of the time in bed. I remember being so mad at them for exposing us to their germs.” She falters, her thoughts clearly racing. “My dad had never taken that much time off. He didn’t even play golf.”

Again I’m silent. For a long moment I just stand beside her while everything gathers and rushes. Sand flies by us like a million mirrored surfaces. On the beach, the waves lunge at the shore where the seal has finally reached the tide line. Strangely I want to cheer for the animal for not giving up or turning back.

Then something snaps and shines. Breaks in. Emily starts to vibrate, and then to shake. She cries out, covering her face with her hands, doubling over.

I place a hand lightly on her back, wanting her to know she’s not alone. But I can’t really help her. Not for this.

When she stands, her face is damp and raw. Mascara clouds her cheeks. She’s breathing hard. “What kind of monster would hurt a little girl? My own father?” She shudders, repulsed. “Or my brother, even. It’s so awful.”

“How many years did your family come to Malibu for Christmas?”

“Three. My mom couldn’t travel after that because of the dementia. And then we moved here, and Drew started hosting.”

“Drew was at all of those holidays, too, then?”

“He was. I hate thinking this way. I hate it.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, Emily.” We’re standing a foot apart, the same bitter wind at our backs. I can’t make anything easier for her. I can’t take her pain away. All of these questions hurt. The truth has teeth and won’t let go.

“What age was Cameron when things started to shift?”

“When we came north. We thought it was the mountains, the fresh air. She started to seem more like herself again. Then she found Caitlyn, and everything seemed really great for a while.”

“That timing lines up with the bigger picture, Emily. The abuse might have stopped then anyway. She was getting older. More likely to tell.”