Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Brooks stood beside her in a dark suit, close enough that their shoulders touched. He’d been a constant presence all week—bringing her meals when Dawn worked the shop, sitting with her when nightmares woke her at three a.m., helping her navigate the FBI’s endless questions without pushing her to use her abilities before she was ready.
“You don’t have to be here,” he said. “You’re still recovering.”
“I need to be here. For Martha. For Lily.” Vivienne adjusted the simple black dress Dawn had helped her choose. “This is what it was all for.”
The service began. The priest spoke of eternal rest and God’s mercy. Friends shared memories of a bright girl with a passion for history. Martha wept, her grief finally able to take its proper shape after years of suspended hope.
Then a woman Vivienne didn’t recognize walked to the front. She was in her early forties, with curly red hair streaked with gray and wire-rimmed glasses. She gripped the lectern with white knuckles.
“My name is Sarah Whitfield,” she said, her voice shaking. “I was Lily’s best friend.”
The church went silent.
“I haven’t been back to Westerly Cove in twenty-five years. I left for college the semester after Lily disappeared and I never came home. Because I couldn’t face what I’d done—or rather, what I didn’t do.”
Sarah’s hands trembled on the lectern. “Lily came to me in October of 1999 with evidence of a criminal operation. She was scared but determined to expose the truth. And I told her to stop. I told her it was too dangerous. I told her to choose a different project, to let someone else handle it.”
Martha Morgan let out a soft sound of pain.
“She gave me a package that fall. Said if anything happened to her, I should open it and tell people it wasn’t an accident. But when she disappeared, I was too scared. I was seventeen and terrified and I convinced myself that maybe it really was just an accident. That maybe she’d slipped and fallen like they said.”
Sarah’s voice broke. “I kept that package for twenty-five years. Moved it from dorm room to apartment to house. Never opened it. Never told anyone about it. Because opening it would mean admitting that I’d failed my best friend when she needed me most.”
Tears streamed down her face. “But Lily was braver than I’ll ever be. She was seventeen years old and she knew the Aldrich family would kill her to protect their secrets. She knew, and she gathered evidence anyway. She documented everything. She made sure that even if they silenced her, the truth would survive.”
She looked at Martha. “Your daughter was a hero, Mrs. Morgan. She had more courage at seventeen than most people find in a lifetime. And she saved lives by exposing criminals who’d operated for generations. Every family that got answers about their missing loved ones—that’s Lily’s legacy.”
Sarah pulled out a worn photograph and held it up—two teenage girls with their arms around each other, laughing at the camera. “This was us the week before she died. She knew something was going to happen. She told me I was the best friend she’d ever had. She said thank you for believing in her.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I didn’t believe in her enough. I didn’t stand with her when it mattered. And I’ve spent twenty-five years wishing I could go back and make a different choice.”
She set the photo on the casket. “I’m sorry, Lily. I’m so sorry I wasn’t brave enough. But I’m here now. And I want everyone to know what you did. What you sacrificed. You died because you refused to look away from evil. Because you believed truth mattered more than safety.”
Sarah stepped back from the lectern, wiping her eyes. “Your daughter changed this town, Mrs. Morgan. She made it better. And I promise—I’ll make sure everyone knows her story. The real story. The one about a girl who was brave enough to fight monsters.”
She returned to her seat. The church was silent except for weeping.
Vivienne felt the weight of Sarah’s guilt, her grief, her belated courage. Twenty-five years of carrying that unopened package. Twenty-five years of knowing she could have helped.
But she’d come back. She’d finally told the truth.
Maybe that was its own kind of bravery.
The service continued. More hymns. More prayers. The slow procession to the cemetery where Lily would finally be laid to rest beside her father.
At the graveside, Vivienne stood back, giving the family space. But as they lowered the casket, she felt a presence beside her. Not threatening. Peaceful.
Thank you. Lily’s spirit, fainter now than it had been in the lighthouse. Tell Mama I’m okay. Tell her I’m with Dad now.
“I will,” Vivienne whispered.
Brooks glanced at her, understanding in his eyes. He’d learned to recognize when she was communing with spirits. Learned not to interrupt, just to be there.