At that moment, Sierra came over and grabbed Caroline’s arm. “Oh, hey, Zane.”

“Hiya,” he said, his face still red.

“I need to borrow Caroline for a minute.” She pivoted away, towing Caroline along behind her. “That kid is totally crushing on you,” she said.

“Who? Zane?” Now Caroline felt a blush coming on.

“Of course Zane. I can tell. He’s cute, too.”

“I guess . . .” Was he? Longish hair parted on the side. Skinny jeans and a vintage T-shirt. He had a nice smile. That made him cute, she supposed.

“I need to show you something. So, remember how I said I’d know him when I see him?” asked Sierra.

“What? Who? Oh, yeah. Mr. Darcy.”

Sierra pointed Caroline toward a lone figure down by the water’s edge, tossing a Frisbee for a hyper little dog. “Well, I just saw him. Only I don’t think he’s called Darcy.”

Caroline stared in the direction Sierra was pointing and felt a jolt of recognition shoot through her body.

He wasn’t Darcy.

He was taller, of course. That was what boys did—they got taller every year. He was lean, but more muscular, too, his shoulders and legs silhouetted against the rushing waves. His shirtless torso glistened with salt water or sweat. The sunlight glinted gold on his hair, and his voice was deep and unfamiliar as he called out a familiar name. “Duffy! Here, boy!”

Caroline’s stomach churned. It was Will Jensen. Will and his grandparents’ dog, Duffy.

“Oh well, shoot,” she stammered, “he’s not—”

Sierra wasn’t listening. When the Frisbee went flying past, she snatched it out of the air like a trained athlete. They’d been in gym class together all year, and Caroline had never seen her friend execute a move like that.

Now in possession of the Frisbee, Sierra laughed as the dog danced frantically around her. “What a cute little guy,” she called out. “Can I throw it for him?”

“Sure,” said Will, scooping up a T-shirt as he came toward them. His stare seemed to be glued to Sierra. Of course it was. She looked utterly, totally amazing in the dress Caroline had made for her. In the deepening light, she was almost too beautiful to be real, like a mermaid. No wonder Will couldn’t look away, even as he yanked on a familiar Go Navy T-shirt over his head.

She flung the disc into the air, and Duffy scampered after it. “I’m Sierra,” she said.

And I’m invisible, thought Caroline.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m—”

“That’s Will,” Caroline interrupted, her voice a bit louder than she’d intended.

The moment she spoke up, his attention swiveled to her. His face lit with a grin that was suddenly familiar, despite the deep voice and big shoulders. “Hey, stranger,” he said.

“Hey, yourself,” she replied, her heart racing as if she’d just sprinted a hundred yards. “You’re back.” She had an insane fantasy in her mind that he would sweep her up like Rhett did Scarlett in Gone with the Wind and kiss her so hard she fainted.

“You guys know each other?” asked Sierra. “That’s so cool.” She snapped her fingers. “Your grandmother’s Mrs. Jensen, right? We saw her yesterday. I should have recognized the dog.”

Duffy came racing back with the Frisbee. Neither Will nor Sierra seemed to notice the dog, so Caroline flung the disc for him again. It caught the breeze and seemed to go for miles.

“Are you hungry?” Sierra asked Will.

“Always. How about you?”

“Starving,” Sierra said.

She was never starving. She barely ate. Maybe meeting Will had whetted her appetite. Chattering away, she walked with him toward the food tables, now laden with steaming trays of clams, potatoes, and corn.

Caroline trailed along in their wake. Her stomach was in knots. Literally, it was. She knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a single bite.

Right before her eyes, Sierra and Will seemed drawn to each other like magnets. Instant attraction, a high school Lizzy and Darcy.

Suddenly the magical summer Caroline had imagined wasn’t so magical after all. She grabbed a piece of driftwood and stabbed it into the sand, furious at herself. She should have said something to Sierra. She should have just come out and admitted the truth. And the truth was, she’d had a crush on Will Jensen ever since she’d figured out what a crush was.

Now they were both lost to her—her best friend and her crush—and she’d been the one who had made it happen.

She glared at the beach scene—people playing and dancing, gathering at the booths, buying chances at the cakewalk and raffle. Summer at the beach—the season she looked forward to all year long.

And beyond it all, the great wild ocean stretched out to infinity.

Part Four

Appreciate the journey, and recognize your strength.

—See the Triumph

Chapter 19

Caroline was in the kids’ room, going through their school backpacks and checking homework. She’d never pictured herself doing such a thing, and she felt like a fraud. Notes from teachers, permission slips, practice sheets—it was all new to her.

Sometimes, like at the present moment, it started to feel normal. It started to feel like her life. Not the life she’d imagined for herself, but something she never in her wildest dreams could have conceived of. Both Addie and Flick seemed to be settling in at school. They even seemed proud that the superpower shirts had become a thing. They were trendsetters, she liked to tell them.

The day was winding down. They’d had their supper and baths. Now Flick lay on his bed, absorbed in Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel. Addie had found an old Barbie set in a carrying case that opened like a closet and was playing with the vintage dolls. Thanks to Caroline’s mother, Barbie still lived in the case with her boyfriend, Ken. “She could be Wonder Woman’s friend,” Addie exclaimed. “They’re the same size.”

“Good idea,” said Caroline. “They could even share clothes.” She held up a tiny ball gown made of weird polyester calico. “I remember making this—a failed experiment. Sewing for Barbie is actually harder than sewing for grown-ups. But see, she has a lot of cool clothes and her own motor scooter. I got in trouble for making her a car.”

“Why did you get in trouble?”

“I borrowed one of my dad’s Italian leather shoes to make it. I stuck on the wheels with a hot glue gun, which seemed like a good idea at the time. But it ruined the shoes forever. Dad was so mad at me.”

“Did he whack you?”

“What? Whack me? No.” Caroline felt a spike of awareness. “Is that what happens when someone’s bad?”

Addie shrugged her shoulders, her typical reaction when Caroline brought up the topic. Neither she nor Flick had given any indication that they knew what was happening to their mother or who the abuser was, yet that didn’t mean they hadn’t seen anything.

“Well, I want you to know that whacking is never okay. Or hitting, smacking, punching, or shoving. Violence—hurting someone—is never, ever okay. You know that, right?”