Her mom stepped back and looked at Laurel. “What happened to you? You look awful.”

Laurel rushed back into her mother’s embrace—the embrace she’d been sure she would never feel again when she was trapped under the murky waters of the Chetco. “It’s been a long night,” she said with a shaky voice as tears threatened.

Her mother clung to her as Laurel looked over her shoulder and studied her father. He’d been lying in that hospital bed for so long, it was almost too bizarre to imagine him waking up and rising from it. Laurel stepped away from her mother. “I have something for Dad.” She laughed. “I have something for you too. Never go on a trip without bringing back presents, right?” Her mother looked at her strangely as Laurel continued chuckling to herself.

She walked around to the other side of her father’s bed and pulled a rolling stool up near his head. “Don’t let anyone in,” she told her mother as she removed the small bottle from her pocket.

“Laurel, what is—?”

“It’s okay, Mom. It’ll make him better.” She unscrewed the top and sucked some of the precious liquid into the dropper. Very carefully, she bent over her father and squeezed two sparkling blue drops of elixir into his mouth. Then, looking at his pale face, she let one more drop fall. Just in case. She looked up at her mom. “He’ll be fine now.”

Laurel’s mom stared openmouthed at her. “Where did you get that?”

Laurel looked at her mother with a weary smile. “You didn’t ask about your present,” she said, avoiding the question.

Her mom sank into the armchair beside the bed as Laurel pushed her stool around to sit next to her. She paused for a few seconds, not sure where to begin. Where do you start a story this big? She glanced at the clock and cleared her throat. “Mr. Barnes isn’t coming this morning.” Her mom leaned forward to say something, but Laurel continued, speaking over her. “He’s never coming, Mom. I hope you never see him again. He’s not what you think he is.”

Her face had turned white. “But…but the land, the money, I don’t know how…”

Her voice faded and tears started to slide down her cheeks.

Laurel reached out to place a hand on her arm. “It’ll be fine, Mom. Everything will be fine.”

“But Laurel, we’ve talked about this. There’s no other way.”

Laurel pulled the diamond out of her other pocket and held it in the palm of her hand. “There is another way.”

Her mom’s eyes bounced warily from the diamond up to Laurel’s face and back down. “Where did you get this, Laurel?” she asked sternly, her eyes on the rough, glittering gem.

“I’ve been asked to deliver a proposition.”

“Laurel, you’re scaring me,” her mom said, her voice a little shaky.

“No, no. Don’t be scared. Everything’s fine. There is”—she hesitated—“someone…who wants the land to stay in our family. Specifically, for me to own it. They are willing to let you have this diamond in exchange for you signing the land into a trust in my name.”

Her mother stared at her silently for a long time. “Your name?”

Laurel nodded.

“In exchange for this?” she said, gesturing at the gem.

“Exactly.”

“And saving your dad?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

Laurel stared down at the diamond. During the whole drive to Brookings from Orick, she hadn’t been able to decide just what to tell her mom. Now that the moment was here, she still wasn’t sure. “Mom? I…I’m not like you.”

“What do you mean, not like me?”

Laurel stood and crossed to the door. She closed it, wishing it had a lock. She walked slowly back to her mother. “Haven’t you ever wondered why I’m so different?”

“You’re not different. You’re wonderful—you’re beautiful. I don’t know why you’re suddenly doubting that.”

“I eat funny.”

“But you’ve always been healthy. And—”

“I don’t have a pulse.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t bleed.”

“Laurel, this is ri—”

“No, it’s not. When was the last time I cut myself? When was the last time you saw me bleed?” Her voice was louder now.

“I…I…” Her mom looked around, suddenly confused. “I don’t remember,” she said weakly.

And then everything, everything in her life suddenly made sense. “You don’t remember,” Laurel said softly. “Of course you don’t remember.” They wouldn’t have let her mom remember the dozens of times she must have suspected something was wrong. The hundreds of times something was just a little too weird. Laurel felt suddenly weak. “Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“Laurel, I haven’t understood a word you’ve said since you walked in this room.”

“Sarah?” A scratchy, weak voice made both of them turn.

“Mark! Mark, you’re awake!” her mom cried, forgetting her confusion. They stood on each side of her dad’s bed, clasping his hands as he blinked hesitantly.

His eyes slowly came into focus and traveled around the room, taking in the myriad of medical equipment beeping and whirring all around him. “Where the hell am I?” he asked in a gravelly voice.