Now You See Her by Lisa Leighton

Author:Lisa Leighton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

THERE’S A BATTLE PLAYING OUT ON MRS. GRAHAM’S TAUT FACE that I’m sure she’ll regret later. Concern for her daughter in the midst of a mental breakdown versus anger versus a highly cultivated appearance of perfection. Landon is really throwing her for a loop. After all, she just wants everyone to be okay.

She shakes her head, jogging now toward Landon’s car. “Sophie, sweet girl.” It’s not the tears gathering in her eyes or her brows knitting together or her shaking hands that cause a slow burn to spread up the back of my throat. It’s not the Sophie in me, it’s not her reflex. This time, they’re not her tears. They’re mine. I hadn’t given Mrs. Graham enough credit. Yes, her reputation, their appearance as the perfect family, is vital. But she chose her daughter. In that simple moment as she closed the space between us, everything else fell away, and she said my name. She chose me.

Facing Mrs. Graham, I whisper to Landon, “Thanks anyway,” so he can’t see the tears that have gathered in my eyes for someone else’s mom. And then I open the car door and let Sophie’s mother take over. We walk back through the busy restaurant just as Pete turns the last few stragglers away after selling his last Boston cream. Janie is gone, newspapers are folded up, and a woman wipes down tables. It’s time to go home.

I watch Morristown slip by outside my window as we head back through town. There isn’t a bombardment of memories this time probably because they’re all tucked safely inside, woven into a new pattern, not so obvious anymore. I hope I’m not forgetting to panic.

Mrs. Graham stops the car at a red light and takes a deep breath. “Sophie, your father has found a facility that specializes in the brain. They see your kinds of injuries all the time. The doctors can help us.”

A facility. Rehab. Reprogram. Forget. The piece of me that had softened toward Mrs. Graham hardens instantly. I can’t go to that hospital. I can’t risk losing the last of Amelia. The Grahams need me to be fine, so I’m going to be fine.

“Mom.” I swear I can see a physical manifestation of that simple word fly off my tongue and strike my target. Such a basic, one-syllable sound, such a powerful, immediate response. “I’m sorry I scared you and . . . Dad. All the questions at school got to me and I felt weird and I just wanted there to be a reason everything happened. But I’m done. No more stories. No more excuses. I’m sorry.” I need to take the path of least resistance, the road well traveled. If I keep trying to convince the Grahams of anything other than that I’m better, I’ll be put back away, silenced. It’s a dead end.

She closes her eyes for a long time. “No, I’m sorry. I thought getting back into your old routine would be good for you. But it was too fast.

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