“Because I love you. And Detective Nolan said you need a place to stay.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she regarded Detective Nolan. “When . . . how did you find him?”
“I didn’t make detective for nothing, kiddo,” Nolan said, winking at her. “Just doing my job.”
Sage looked at her father again, struggling to control her emotions. “But you have a whole new life,” she said in a quiet voice. “You don’t need me screwing it up.”
“Oh, my girl,” he said. “You wouldn’t be screwing it up. You’d be fixing it. I swear I thought about you and Rosemary every day.” He wiped his eyes. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I missed you. And I’m so sorry the world has been so unbelievably cruel to you both.”
She put her hands over her face and swallowed a sob. She felt like she was about to explode, the strength of her joy and sadness making her dizzy. She wept silently for a moment, then wiped her face and gazed at him, struggling to keep her voice steady. “What about your . . . your . . . you must have a new family now.”
He set the flowers on the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. “I have a wife,” he said. “Her name is Cathy and she’s beautiful and kind, but we never had children. We have two dogs and a nice house on Long Island with a great view of the ocean and an extra bedroom. And your friends can visit whenever they’d like.”
Sage glanced at Heather and Dawn and Detective Nolan, who were all staring at her with watery eyes. Dawn looked like she was about to weep uncontrollably. Sage looked at her father again. “Are . . . are you sure?”
He nodded. “Cathy wanted me to tell you just one thing.”
“What’s that?” Sage said.
He gently took her bandaged hands in his. “That kind hearts are strong hearts, and if you’d like to come, we’ll welcome you into our lives with open arms.”
Sage couldn’t hold back any longer. She let out a sob and threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Oh, Daddy,” she cried.
He hugged her back, holding her tight and burying his face in her hair. When he started to weep, all the emotions she’d held inside for so long released in a flood of tears—the longing ache for his presence in her life, the grief over losing her mother and sister, the yearning for a parent who cared, the terror and heartache she’d experienced over the past weeks. Even the guilt that her father had shown up to save her in the end, unlike the thousands of poor children in Willowbrook who would never be so lucky. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from the magnitude of it all.
CHAPTER 27
April 13, 1972
It was a beautiful spring day, and the cemetery was vibrant with color; the grass a deep green, the yellow daffodils and red tulips swaying in the slight breeze. The distant ocean was sapphire and ice blue, waves curling against the shore like slippery lace. Rosemary would have loved it. She would have pointed out the different colors and shapes, and would have lifted her eyes toward the sun, smiling and drinking it all in.
Sage stood over her sister’s grave, one arm hooked over her father’s elbow, the other cupped by her stepmother Cathy’s gentle hand. They’d had to wait to bury Rosemary until the ground thawed and the media circus surrounding everything that had happened in Willowbrook eased up. But now, finally, the funeral was over and they had time to begin stitching their lives together. Sage would have more time to get to know her father again and learn about her new stepmother, and they would have time to know her.
She wiped the moisture from her eyes. “I hope Rosemary is looking down on us and knows how much I loved her,” she said.
“Of course she does,” her father said. “And she knows how much I loved her too.”
Cathy murmured in agreement, then went quiet again.
Sage only nodded, grateful Cathy wasn’t going to try to comfort her. Her grief was as deep as it had been the first time she’d lost Rosemary—maybe even more so, now that Sage knew how much her sister had suffered in the last six years of her life. Even with her father by her side, the heaviness in her heart felt like a lonely ache, a silent wound that no one would ever understand. Unless they saw Willowbrook with their own eyes, they’d never know how awful the last years of Rosemary’s life had been. “I tried to save you,” she whispered under her breath. “But I was too late.”
The only thing that gave her comfort was knowing that Rosemary was no longer suffering and she would never be gone, not as long as Sage and her father remembered her. And Sage had made a decision. From now on she would never think of her sister living through hell inside Willowbrook again. Instead, she would hear her laughter in the ocean waves and the breeze through the trees. She’d be reminded of her smile when the sun sparkled on the snow, and she’d hear her voice in the singing birds.
“We can come back and plant flowers if you’d like,” Cathy said quietly.
“Rosemary would love that,” Sage said. “Thank you.”
Her father bent down and put his hand on the fresh dirt. “We love you, baby girl,” he said, then stood and wiped his eyes.
Loss settled deep in Sage’s chest, at the same time as her love for her father swelled. He had always called his daughters miracles, the loves of his life, and she knew it was true, even when she hadn’t known where he was or why he never called. What mattered was that he was here now, and his heart was broken too. Maybe they could mend their broken hearts together.
CHAPTER 28
March 1987
Saturday
Sipping her morning coffee, Sage stood at the window of her family’s Brooklyn apartment, watching the people in short-sleeved shirts walking and riding bicycles on the sidewalk below. By some miracle, spring-like weather had come early to the city, bringing with it a cloudless blue sky, and she’d pushed the window open wide to let in the fresh air. Opening the windows was nothing new, of course—she did it for a few minutes every day, no matter the weather—but today she was grateful that the air was finally warm enough to leave them open longer, despite the fact that winter was surely not over.
In the fifteen years since she’d escaped Willowbrook, her need for fresh air had only intensified, along with her desire to clean. Her husband, Elliot, sometimes joked that she had obsessive-compulsive disorder, but her obsessions had little to do with real OCD. Willowbrook had gotten inside her in a terrible way, and it didn’t take much to transport her back to those horrible days—the smell of sour milk, a gas station bathroom, a slight whiff of garbage. So she cleaned. A lot. She burned scented candles and opened windows and never went a day without perfume. Considering everything she’d experienced, she was lucky to have come through it all with only those quirks.
The nice weather also meant they could sit outside at her father’s house later this evening, when she and her family went there to celebrate her stepmother Cathy’s birthday. Which reminded her, she needed to pick up a present on the way there. Between taking her sons and daughter to sports practices and piano lessons, her job at the foster care office, and finding group homes for the remaining residents of Willowbrook, she hadn’t had a chance to go shopping all week. And there was no way she’d show up without a present, not when she owed Cathy so much—for everything from helping her get through the rest of high school to her belief that Sage could make it into and excel at college. Her father had helped too, of course—he had been the rock and safety net she needed—but it was Cathy who had bolstered her confidence and reminded her that the three of them were in it together. The first few years had been the hardest, between the nightmares, getting used to a new school, grieving her sister a second time, and testifying in court about Eddie and the horrors of Willowbrook. But her father and Cathy had been with her through all of it, and thanks to them, she learned what it felt like to have a real family.