I yanked our curtain open before I had even put both of my sandals on properly.
“Stay here with Andy,” I told Ruth.
Andy, my boyfriend, was waiting nearby with our towels and bags.
Ruth grabbed my arm. “But where are you going?”
“I just need to speak to someone.”
“Aunty—”
“Please, Ruthie. Stay with Andy.”
My voice came out more sharply than I intended, but fear had already taken control of me.
The woman was walking quickly toward the boardwalk. She wore a loose blue cover-up and kept her head lowered.
“Wait!” I shouted.
She did not stop.
I hurried after her, pushing through families carrying umbrellas and teenagers wrapped in towels.
“Joan!”
The woman froze.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Then she began walking even faster.
That was all the proof I needed.
I chased her past the outdoor showers and finally caught up near the rinse station. My lungs burned, and sand had filled my half-fastened sandals.
“Turn around,” I demanded.
She kept her face turned away.
“You have the wrong person,” she said.
Her voice was low and strained, but something inside me recognized it immediately.
“No,” I replied. “I don’t.”
She closed her eyes.
“Please, Jess.”
Hearing my name in that voice nearly broke me.
“Say it again.”
Slowly, she turned.
Her face was thinner than I remembered. Her hair had been cut short, and pale scars stretched along one side of her neck and disappeared beneath the collar of her cover-up.
But her eyes had not changed.
They were still the same deep brown eyes I had grown up with.
The same eyes that had teased me, protected me, and cried with me.
“Jess,” she whispered again.
My knees almost gave way.
“You’re dead.”
Joan covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes.
Behind me, I heard Ruth calling my name.
Andy was approaching with Ruth beside him, carrying our beach bag over one shoulder and her towel in his hand.
He looked from me to the stranger in front of me.
Then his expression changed.
“Jess?” he asked carefully.
“Take Ruth closer to the water,” I said. “Build a sandcastle with her. Make one of those mermaids she likes.”
Ruth refused to move.
She stared at Joan.
Then she looked at me.
“Is that lady my mommy?”
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