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“What happened to the portrait?” I ask Sole.

Her downturned glance tells me she knows exactly what I mean and why I’m looking for it. “I took it down after your father told me he was selling the house. The paintings were moved to the beach house.” She rubs her thumb into her palm.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I wanted to see it again.” My gaze switches from hers back to the empty wall over the mantle. “I needed to see.” My voice quavers. “I wanted to know I’m not going crazy.”

“You’re not going crazy.” She brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “I would’ve let you have it. But.”

“But?” I turned to face her.

“They were stolen the nighthewas you know.” She swallows. A long time ago she realized how much his name hurts me.

“They?” It takes all my energy to focus on our conversation, to keep track of what Sole is trying to tell me.

“All the family paintings. Your grandparents, your mother. All five of them were stolen from the beach house.” The sudden intensity in her gaze makes my head swim.

What am I missing?

“She’s not my mother.” I stare at her. “But you already knew that. Didn’t you?”

“Yes.” She nods as her eyes brim with tears. “I never wanted to lie to you.”

“But you did. Why? Because Dad asked you to?” I run a hand through my hair. This memory hurts. Dad lied to me. Sole did too.

“I have a gift for you.” She pats my arm as if trying to wake me up from a deep sleep. “Sit.” She gestures toward the bed.

I amble toward it and lie down. I feel exhausted from the drive and just the overall activity of being out of bed for three consecutive hours. Every bone in my body feels heavy as I rest my cheek on the pillow.

“Happy birthday.” She slides a shoe box across the bed until it’s almost up to my nose.

“What is it?” I scoot up to rest my back on the headboard.

“Open it. See for yourself.” She lifts the lid a little.

With a sigh, I remove the lid and freeze. Her golden eyes look back at me, and I just know who she is. “She looks like me.”

“Two peas in a pod. I always said.” Sole picks up another photo of Mom. “She’s pregnant with you here.”

“She’s so young.” I touch the smooth surface of the picture.

“She was about your age when she had you.”

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Why did you lie about her portrait? And all those other pictures you showed me? Her stories.”

“All the stories are true. I promise you.” She wipes my cheek, then whispers, “She was a beautiful dancer just like you. She would’ve been so proud of you. To see you dance the way you did that night.” She smiles at her hands for a beat. “I didn’t get to say it, but I was very proud of you. You were wonderful. Perfect, if such a thing even exists.”

“Was she really sleeping with patrons for money?” I don’t care about that. But the hate in Dad’s eyes when he speaks of her like that makes me wonder if there’s more to their story than he said. “If she loved Dad so much, why would she be with other men?”

“Who told you that?” She frowns. “Your mother only had eyes for your father. I know because I was there. The three of you were the sweetest little family.”

“Why would Dad lie about that?” I ask and immediately realize I don’t care about the answer. The truth hurts too much.

Wake up, Little Dove

His deep voice echoes in my head. I startle at the sound of it. It’s so clear in my mind, like he’s right here in the room with me.

“Why did you lie to me all those years?” I pick up another one of Mom’s pictures. She’s dressed as the black swan. She looks like me. And she looks like all the other subs at Dad’s sex party.

“I had to do it.” She shoots a glance toward the door before she adds. “He made me promise. It was the only way he would let me stay with you, my sweet girl. I promised your mom I would take care of you always.”