coming down so hard that the ground couldn’t absorb it. Within a short period of time, it was as if we were in a shallow stream. The woman was sitting by a rock. I went to her.”
“Did you know who she was?” Laurel asked.
I shook my head. “No. She looked familiar but old and ragged. And then she laughed. It was a witch’s laugh—a caricature of a witch, such as they would show in a cartoon.”
“What happened next?” Patrick asked.
“I asked her who she was.” Before they could respond, I added, “I asked if she was me.” I forced a grin. “I know that sounds crazy, but I was afraid I was seeing myself.”
Laurel’s head shook. “Nothing sounds crazy. Remember, no right or wrong answers? Did she talk to you?”
“She said she was nobody.”
“Why would she say she was nobody?” Laurel asked.
My lips pursed as I recalled the conversation under the deluge of rain. “I-I’m not sure.”
“What happened next?” It seemed to be Patrick’s go-to question.
I brought my suddenly chilled hands to my lap, wringing one and then the other. “The woman started talking. As she did, her voice grew weaker, fading into the sounds of the storm. Maybe she knew she didn’t have much time. She told me that I knew her, and she apologized for being a bad mother, saying she knew now how we’d felt.” I looked up. “That’s a lie. Our grandmother, her mother, was a saint. There’s no way she knew what it was like to grow up as her kid.”
“Let’s concentrate on what was said and what you recall,” Laurel said calmly.
Nodding, I again closed my eyes. In my mind, I was back in the cold rain with thunder and lightning. “Nancy said if she could do it over again, she would.” I took a deep breath, recalling the way her green eyes stared up at me through the rain and growing storm as the large drops saturated her hair and clothes. “She said she told them. No, she said they forced her to tell.”
“Who is them?” Patrick asked.
“I don’t know. She said they forced her, and I should know.” I paused, trying to recall exactly what she had said.
“Lorna,” Patrick said, “did she use the plural them, not singular him or her?”
I didn’t speak for a minute as I recalled. Swallowing, I sat taller. “Yes, she definitely said them.”
“Go on,” Laurel said.
“And that’s when she confessed that Missy didn’t go missing. Nancy said she sold her to her birth father. She said that they know so I should too.”
Both Patrick and Laurel’s expressions revealed uncertainty.
“And then?” Patrick prodded.
“She fell asleep.” I opened my eyes and looked across the table. “She died.”
“What did you do?”
Tears came to my eyes as my chin dropped to my chest. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It might, Lorna,” Laurel said.
“I sat beside her and tried to keep her warm.”
A warm hand covered mine. When I opened my eyes, it was my sister-in-law now in the chair beside me with her hand covering mine.
“Kind of pathetic, right?” I asked.
“The opposite,” she replied. “Lorna, you’re a loving person. That isn’t a fault.”
“Maybe she felt that before she died.”
“You can choose to believe she did,” Patrick said.
“What do you recall next?” Laurel asked.
“Waking up and seeing Reid.”
“Let’s talk about before,” Patrick prompted. “What do you recall before?”
“It’s so odd. I don’t actually remember being at the ranch, yet I know the ranch. I’ve been there before. I have had a few visions—or maybe flashes, like you said.”
“Can you describe them?”
“White walls. And then there’s a man with dark black hair.”
Patrick smiled from across the table. “We have some pictures.”
I nodded.
“We are trying to not lead you. We went through this earlier this morning with Araneae.”
“Did she remember?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Laurel smiled. “Let’s concentrate on you.”
“Okay. I guess that makes sense. I mean, Araneae probably knew more. She’s smarter, she’s somebody.” I forced a grin.
Laurel’s voice was as soft as silk. “Why is she smarter?”
“Look at her. She helped create Sinful Threads, and now she’s done so much with the Sparrow Institute.”
“Right,” Patrick said. “I don’t see a correlation with those examples and intelligence, perhaps opportunity.”
“But look at me.” I opened my eyes wide. “I’m not complaining, but I have a high school diploma and I cook and clean.”
“Have we ever,” Patrick began, “made you feel like your contribution to this household was insignificant? Because, Lorna, if we did, if any one of us ever did, I want to apologize.”