“Do you want to tell them, or should I?” I ask.
“I have a better idea.” He passes the letter off to a puzzled Jonny and heads toward the band. He whispers something in the ear of one of the band members.
“Girls,” he says, waving them over. They follow him on the dance floor. He positions Zoe first. The song begins to play.
She knows exactly what to do. She stands on his feet and takes his hands in hers. After a few chords, Zoe steps down and Lily tries. He’s whispering to each of them, and they’re smiling. By the time the song ends, they’re hugging and running over for me to join them.
“We’re staying!” they shout together.
He nods. “We’re staying.”
Forgetting that they’re too-cool teenagers, they jump up and down, shrieking like schoolgirls. “Thank God,” Lily announces. “Now that all this craziness is behind us, can we at least get our permits?” Bobby swats her on the backside and says he’ll take them this week. Then he tells them to share the news with Alberto and Kinsley and the rest of our family.
He wraps me in his arms and whispers in my ear, “Excuse me, do I know you?” I smile up at him, and he leads me toward the dance floor, where I rest my head against his chest. “Play it again,” he says to the band. I collapse into him, whole and full and at peace. I remember dancing with Bobby all those years ago. Yes. I know you.
And soon the sun begins to fall, and I take Bobby’s hand. “Let’s go home,” I say, breathing him in with a swirl of ocean breeze. The girls race toward the building, their laughter floating up to the sky. We follow close behind, taking each step with renewed spirit. Up ahead, the Ross never looked more beautiful. We cross the patio toward her double doors and gaze up at her towering presence. She’s growing up, shifting, pushing through boundaries. Imperfect. She is surrounded by love and those who will guide her through the next stage. My heart couldn’t be any fuller.
Until I spot Zoe up ahead.
She’s keeping in step with her sister, though her feet appear not to touch the ground. She is radiant and light, and guests appraise her with their eyes. That’s my daughter, I say to myself. That girl. That amazing, beautiful girl. She’s smart. She’s silly. She makes mistakes, and she hurts. She struggles. She picks herself up. She changes everything inside us, testing and tormenting, loving and loyal. That girl. That daughter of mine.
And it happened like that. One day she said, “You don’t know me.” She was becoming someone else. A bigger, scarier version of my little girl. And I begin to understand the depths and the challenges of unconditional love. A heart seemingly filled to capacity, needing to find and somehow finding more room.
I thought it could never happen to us. Until it did. We entered that place where little made sense. I held on. Hard. Because there’s nothing more gratifying than watching all the different parts of the people you love come together. To hold your child’s hand knowing You’re mine. We got this.
The path stretches out ahead of us. What happened to Zoe happened to all of us. When you love someone, it’s difficult to experience their suffering without remembering your own. When they make a mistake, you remember yours. I foolishly judged my past and carried it forward.
Our children carry magical parts of us inside them. The parts are magical because we don’t always know they’re there. Then one day their magic breaks through and captures us, changes us, makes us see everything in a different light.
My daughter gave me the gift of tolerance and self-love I didn’t know I had. She gave me the courage to accept my actions with love in my heart and to never let fear turn me into someone I’m not.
It is through her bravery and resiliency that I am complete.
She’s not somebody’s daughter.
She’s my daughter.
EPILOGUE
“Turn on your blinker, Zoe,” Bobby chimes from the front seat of the car as we approach the Ross’s circular drive. I’m hunkered down in the back with Lily beside me; my fingers jut into the leather. It’ll get easier, I tell myself.
“You’re doing great,” Bobby comments. I’m just happy they prefer to practice with him. They tell me I’m too nervous and reactive. I won’t apologize for it. Motherhood is a bumpy ride. I’ve learned to hold on tight.
Alberto greets us on the swale. He smiles at Zoe as he opens the door. “This is a sight I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. The smile? Yes. Seeing you behind the wheel? Not so much.” He addresses Bobby and me when he says, “Special delivery at the front desk.”
We file into the brightly lit lobby. Bobby’s arms stretch around the girls’ shoulders. Zoe’s color has returned to her face. Her eyes are clear and shiny. Lily hums to herself. Their matching long hair slides down their backs.
The stack of magazines rests on the marble top of the front desk. Our faces stare out at us with the Ross in the background. “Miami’s First Family.”
“And we’re the first family ever featured on the cover of Ocean Drive,” Bobby remarks, fingering the glossy magazine. The girls ooh and aah, and I take it all in. The memory of that afternoon and the healing since then is a tender reminder. We’ve come a long way. One would never know the pain we were experiencing. Makes you think twice about judging a book by its cover.
There will be readers flipping the pages of our story who will be wholly unaware of the struggles that played out behind the Ross’s doors. They won’t see the scaffolds and the dust during the renovation. They won’t know of the secrets and lies, or the scandal that threatened to tear our family apart.
I open to the article and begin reading. Our history. Jonny. The girls frolicking in the ocean. And that’s when I see it.
“I called Lana,” Bobby says, and his dark eyes flicker. “It was time to be honest about us . . . about the hotel.”
“‘. . . and we’ve had our share of problems,’” I read. “‘Nothing’s ever what it seems. You know that. But it made us stronger—less perfect—more human, and the Ross shares the same qualities. Her understated charm. Her blemishes. She’s going through a major renovation in the coming weeks—floors, balconies. Change is inevitable. The real draw is in the imperfections—the broken parts that require our deepest love and attention.’
“You really did this.” I’m not sure my words capture the depth of my gratitude.
“I did.”
I roll the magazine under my arm, and we walk hand in hand with the girls’ laughter guiding us to the elevator.
My phone dings, and it’s a text from Monica Hudson. Did you hear? A photo’s going around. This time it’s a seventh grader at Zweig Middle. Hurts my heart for those families.
I shudder, remembering that day. How everything changed. Then I formulate my response: This makes me sad. I’m praying for the families, and I’m grateful I’ve learned not to judge.
I put the phone away and step inside the elevator. I watch the girls watching themselves in the mirror, their youthful, innocent faces that don’t quite match their budding bodies. They still have so much more growing to do. I may not sleep for the next couple of years. I’ll worry, I’ll wonder, but I’ll do my best to give them my best. And I’ll never ever give up.
Because I’m their mom.
And that’s what we do.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
If you or someone you love is a victim of revenge porn or sexual cyberharassment, you are not alone. Organizations such as the Cyber Civil Rights Legal Project (cyberrightsproject.com), the Cyber Civil Rights Initiative (cybercivilrights.org), and Without My Consent (withoutmyconsent.org) are available to help you restore your safety and get you back in control.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Just like raising children, writing a book takes a village. Here’s to my village. Thank you to my agent, Kim Lionetti, for being a fierce champion of my work. I’m looking forward to accomplishing great things together. Danielle Marshall, Gabrielle Dumpit, Dennelle Catlett, Nicole Pomeroy, and the team at Lake Union, I’m so grateful to have such a faithful
group of supporters who have made this ride extra fun. Tiffany Yates Martin, this book almost died a slow, painful death, but you faithfully brought it back to life. Collaborating with you is always a dream, and I so admire your ability to mold and shape a story until it’s living, breathing, and magical. Lindsay Guzzardo, Laura Whittemore, Phyllis DeBlanche, and Andrea Chapin, thank you for the additional strengthening of this important story.
Kathleen Carter Zrelak and Jeff Umbro, this token of gratitude is belated for your work on Where We Fall, which went to print before I had a chance to edit. I felt very fortunate to have you in my corner, and I wish great things for you both.
Thank you to the book bloggers and influencers who have welcomed me into your generous fold. There are so many of you out there supporting books and readers. My sincere gratitude for your kindness and generosity not just to me, but to readers and writers everywhere. Jenny O’Regan, Kristy Barrett, Lauren Margolin, Chelsea Humphrey, Bethany Lynne, Annie JC, Andrea Bates, Crystal Brutlag, Melissa Bartell, Emily Lewis, Barbara Bos, Judith D. Collins, Ann-Marie Nieves, Melissa Amster, She Reads, Cyrus Webb, Elyse Walters, all the TLC Book Tour Bloggers, Readers Coffeehouse, the Tall Poppies, Great Thoughts’ Great Readers, my pals at FB Book Club US, and anyone I might have missed. An extra-special thank-you to Andrea Katz for your friendship and vowing to trip me should we pass on a busy street. To my Lake Union sisters and gents, my deepest gratitude for providing an endless supply of support and guidance. Special love and appreciation for Emily Bleeker, Camille Di Maio, Marilyn Rothstein, Dina Silver, Barbara Claypole White, and Allison Winn.
Thank you to the readers who have supported my work, reached out, and given me the courage and inspiration to keep writing.
Elisa D’Amico, cofounder of the Cyber Civil Rights Legal Project, thank you for your tireless efforts on behalf of revenge-porn victims nationwide. Elisa’s pro bono work makes her the leader in this field, and without her, this book would not exist. To Annmarie Chiarini and Anisha Vora of the Cyber Civil Rights Initiative (CCRI), thank you for advocating for victims and sharing your experience with me. Stacey Honowitz, your legal expertise is invaluable. Keep fighting for our children and our children’s children. The world needs more of you. Dara Clarke, thank you for the intro to Stacey. Heartfelt appreciation to my father-in-law, Alan Weinstein, for providing additional legal expertise. Any mistakes from a legal perspective are my own and not the fault of the experts who shared their knowledge with me.
My appreciation to Susanne and Steven Hurowitz and Eric Feder for sharing their wisdom on hotel living and South Florida real estate, and Jeff Herman for fine-tuning a plot point in the middle of a JAFCO event. Amy Siskind, for depicting the intimacy factor in such a moving way. Felix Martinez, I have owed you for years, and you know why. Thank you.
To my early readers—Amy Berger, Don Blackwell, Jill Coleman, Sandi Cooper, Merle Saferstein, and Lauren Schneider—thank you for the thoughtful feedback. Your time, enthusiasm, and suggestions are always appreciated.
Jessica Jonap, you are my lifeline for all things books.
I have wonderful friends near and far, from all facets of my life. Thank you to each and every one of you for encouraging me over the years, for sharing life with me, and touching me in the deepest, most meaningful ways. I hold you close to my heart.
Thank you to my family for providing great love and no shortage of interesting stories, and especially my siblings, Randi, Robert, and Ron, who are the best friends a person can ask for—my team, my anchors, my childhood, and beyond.
Mom, I feel you every single day, and I know you’re watching us from above. Keep flapping your beautiful wings.
Brandon and Jordan, you inspire me daily to do what I do. Your courage and confidence are admirable. Sharing life with you is always an adventure, one I wouldn’t change for anything in the world. You have given me so much joy; I hope I have given you as much. There are great things on the horizon for the two of you. Be smart. Be kind. Be true to who you are. And know how much you’re loved.
For Steven, the original Bear, my eternal gratitude for giving me the gift of your love and the many blessings of our life together. I’m especially grateful for our walks and talks and your ability to provide plot points with patience, enthusiasm, and insight. You always find the right words when I’m at a loss; you’re the biggest cheerleader, and I could never thank you enough. I love you with all my heart.
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
How much is too much when sharing with our children? How honest do we, as parents, need to be?
Technology is here to stay. How can we teach our children boundaries and parameters to ensure online and cell phone safety? What are the rules in your own home?
Have you ever searched through your teenager’s phone or computer? Where do you stand on privacy versus protection?
What are the ways in which you prepare your sons and/or daughters to respect themselves and others?
Have you ever experienced being judged by other parents for your children’s behavior/actions? How did you handle that situation?
Emma kept a long-held secret from her husband. What are your thoughts on the sin of omission versus lying?
Nature versus nurture often comes into play in our lives. As parents, we do our very best in teaching our children life lessons, but sometimes our children’s destiny is predetermined. What’s your opinion on the debate?
While Somebody’s Daughter highlights a negative side to social media, can social media be effective and positive for teens?
Our kids are quick to let us know how different our lives are from theirs. What are the greatest differences from when you grew up to today’s teens? What is the one thing you wish they could experience? And what are the biggest challenges facing teens today?
In a case such as this, which do you believe goes further: forgiveness or retribution?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 hester
Rochelle B. Weinstein is the USA Today bestselling author of Where We Fall, The Mourning After, and What We Leave Behind. Weinstein lives in South Florida with her husband and twin sons. She is currently writing her fifth novel, a love story based in the Florida Keys. Please visit her at www.rochelleweinstein.com.
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