# Chapter 13: The Oasis Where a Mother's Search Truly Begins
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? I hope you're ready, because today I'm going to walk with you through Chapter 13 of "Forget You Saw Her" — and trust me, this is the chapter where our hearts break open just a little wider, where grief finally finds a place to land, and where a stranger's kindness becomes a lifeline. So grab a cup of tea, settle in, and let's dive into this beautiful, aching chapter together.
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Desert Greens. Doesn't that name just sound like a balm for the soul? And that's exactly what it looked like when Sabina pulled up — a charming red-brick building nestled among wild zinnia beds, separated from the strip-mall chaos by a tiny stream that babbled its way back to a fountain. The A-frame sign by the door practically whispered a welcome: **"HELLO, BEAUTIFUL. WELCOME TO YOUR HAPPY PLACE."**
But let's be honest — Sabina wasn't there for happiness. Not yet.
It was a quarter to ten in the morning, and she'd already had one detour back to her Airbnb to dry the tears that had soaked through her T-shirt. She'd dabbed on concealer, added a touch of blush, and almost convinced herself she looked half-decent. And here's the thing that struck me: she felt *better*. Not good — better. Like that fleeting relief after emptying your stomach during a nasty flu bug. She knew the churning would come back. The gut-wrenching sickness of grief never really leaves. But she'd take whatever relief she could get, for as long as it lasted.
Because something had shifted inside her. Her frantic, grief-addled mind had finally rallied around one clear, unwavering truth: **her daughter needed her.** She felt it in her bones in a way she hadn't before. Not when she opened Detective Barker's letters. Not during those desperate hours driving through the night to Ogden, Utah. Not even when she first stepped into that awful house where Andrea had spent her life. Yesterday, she'd felt like an interloper — a rubbernecker driving toward a bad accident she had no business inserting herself into. But not anymore. This was *her* daughter. *Her* business. And regardless of how ridiculous it might sound to anyone else, she knew Andrea needed her here, right now.
The tinkle of a bell announced her arrival as she pushed open the door, and she breathed in the scent of fresh citrus, taking in the lush, hodgepodge jungle of potted plants that lined the shelves and floor. A woman's voice called out from somewhere beyond the counter — "One second!" — and a blender whirred as Sabina stepped closer. To her right hung a cork bulletin board lined with business cards: Ogden Organic Milk Delivery, piano lessons, and then—
**There she was.**
Andrea. *Her* Andrea. Her school photo, printed on a sign with the word **MISSING** at the top. Beneath her Mona Lisa smile, a description of what she'd been wearing when she disappeared — red hoodie, jeans, black backpack — along with the number for the Ogden Police Department. **"BRING ANDREA HOME."** Sabina stared into her daughter's wide eyes, darker in black-and-white than in the color version of the photo. Then she glanced to the right, where a whiteboard covered in handwriting hung beside the bulletin board.
The blender stopped. Fresh tears sprang to Sabina's eyes as she read the messages:
*We love you, Andrea.*
*You're a beautiful soul and we miss you.*
*I've never met you, but I can tell you're a good person. I think we'd be friends.*
*Sending you good thoughts today.*
And there, printed on a piece of paper between the missing poster and the whiteboard: **"Leave a kind message for our girl by 2:00 p.m. on Fridays! We'll share them on the Bring Andrea Home Facebook page each week."**
There can't possibly be more tears left inside me, Sabina thought — even as they ran down her cheeks, washing away the concealer she'd just applied. Because these messages meant something profound. They meant **Bunny was wrong.** Andrea *had* friends. Someone loved her enough to collect these messages and send them out into the ether, hoping they'd pull her back from wherever she'd gone.
"Hey, what can I get you?" a soft, cheerful voice asked.
Sabina whirled around to face the woman behind the counter. Her black hair was streaked with gray, but the bronze skin on her cheeks and her smooth forehead didn't quite match. Her dark brown eyes — set deep and wide with impossibly long curly lashes — studied Sabina with curiosity and mild concern. Her name tag read **NADIA.**
"You okay? Sorry if I startled you—"
"Yes, I—I haven't even looked at the menu yet," Sabina rushed, looking up at the neon-lit board like she wasn't desperately wiping snot across her face.
"It's all right," Nadia said gently, glancing between Sabina and the whiteboard with a knowing nod. "Take the time you need." She reached for something on the counter and held out a blue dry-erase marker. "Do you want to leave Andrea a message? I can work on juicing more oranges if you need a minute longer."
Sabina took the marker. But to her surprise, Nadia didn't walk away. Instead, she raised her brows a little, studying both Sabina and the photograph.
"I'm sorry if I'm out of line in saying this, but… you look just like her."
**"Really?"** Sabina whispered, knowing she'd replay those words over and over again for the rest of her life.
"Really." Nadia leaned her elbows onto the counter and nodded. Her voice was kind when she added, "And I get the feeling you're not really here for a smoothie, are you?"
Sabina shook her head, doing everything she could to hold back more tears. "I know you're at work and I'm interrupting your day, but please… if you have just a few minutes, I'm hoping you can tell me what you know about… my daughter." She pointed at the missing poster, fully aware of how many questions that statement would create.
Nadia's eyes went so wide for a brief second that Sabina could see the whites framing her dark pupils. "Oh my goodness," she breathed, rushing out from behind the counter. And before Sabina knew it, Nadia had turned the OPEN sign over to CLOSED, flipped the lock on the door, and was leading her by the hand to a nook near the whiteboard, where a cluster of vintage-looking armchairs sat scattered around an eclectic array of side tables.
"You're her mother," Nadia breathed, sitting down next to her on a bright, pink-tufted velvet chair.
"Yes. Her biological mother," Sabina clarified quickly. "Bunny and Dennis Beaumont were her—"
**"Those people weren't her anything,"** Nadia snapped, with so much anger in her voice that Sabina completely lost the thread of what she'd been about to say next.
Sabina felt her chin tremble. "I was just at their house," she admitted. "I drove here from Oregon last night… I had no idea Andrea was even missing until two weeks ago." She hadn't been planning to share any of this. It was a lot to take in. But the feeling she got with this woman — in this little oasis that smelled like lemon zest and summer strawberries — was starkly opposite the feeling she'd gotten in the Beaumont home. She felt certain she could trust her, even though Nadia didn't even know her name yet.
Nadia pursed her lips and studied her again, nodding like she understood even the words Sabina had left unsaid. "They're bad people," she said in a low voice. "My daughter, Paloma… she's talked about Andrea a lot over the past few months. She was worried about her even before she went missing. And now…"
She looked down at her lap and went quiet, and Sabina got the sense that she'd trailed off not because her words had failed her, but because she wasn't sure if Sabina could handle hearing what she wanted to say next.
"Please, tell me everything," Sabina begged. "I know I look like a mess right now," — she shook her head and gestured to her tear-streaked face with a hollow laugh — "but I can handle it. My name is Sabina, by the way."
Nadia met her gaze again, and this time there were tears brimming in her eyes. "Sabina." She drew in a deep breath and reached for Sabina's hand again, like she needed to steady herself and Sabina too. "I would want the same if something happened to my Paloma. So I'll tell you what I know."
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
Oh, this chapter. This chapter *wrecked* me in the most beautiful way. What I loved most was how it pivoted from the suffocating dread of the Beaumont house into something unexpectedly warm — a literal "happy place" where Sabina finally finds someone who sees her, believes her, and refuses to sugarcoat the truth. The whiteboard of kind messages shattered me. It was proof that Andrea mattered, that she was loved outside those cold walls, and that Bunny's version of reality was nothing but poison. Nadia is a gift — fierce, perceptive, and instantly maternal. Her snapping "Those people weren't her anything" gave me chills. And that final handhold, that promise to tell Sabina everything, felt like the first real breath our heroine has taken in this entire story. The prose was atmospheric, the pacing masterful, and the emotional payoff earned. One of the strongest chapters yet.
**⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars**
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## Next Chapter Prediction
Now that Nadia has agreed to open up, I predict Chapter 14 will plunge us headfirst into the truth about Andrea's life before she vanished — starting with Paloma's perspective. We'll likely learn *why* Paloma was worried about Andrea months before the disappearance, and what "bad people" really means when it comes to Bunny and Dennis. I suspect there's a hidden connection between Paloma and Andrea that Nadia has been sitting on, maybe even messages, photos, or a secret friendship Andrea kept hidden from her adoptive parents. Sabina is about to get answers — but also more pain, because every truth she uncovers seems to carve out a deeper wound. Buckle up, readers. The real investigation is only just beginning.
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