Bailey Davis didn't hold grudges anymore. In fact, she didn't do much of anything anymore.

No longer did she blame her parents for the way she turned out. Nor did she blame her sister for ruining her life, nor God for thwarting everything she lived for.

No, she saw now, sitting on the dock, staring over the sea between life and death, that there was no one else to blame but the woman she saw when she looked down, her image dancing across the canvas of the flickering waves.

She thought of her family. Who would miss her? Maybe Brett would, maybe he wouldn't. Her brother had a good heart. He would at least pretend as if he was deeply distraught.

What about her sons? Would they care? Aiden might. Peter wouldn't. Good riddance, he would say. Throwing dirt on her grave, her younger son would smirk and tell all the people gathered around her gravestone, she got what she deserved.

"God," she said out loud, looking to the clear, cerulean blue sky. What was that quote Olivia used to say? God, if there is a God . . . Save my soul, if I have a soul."

She pictured herself standing up from the dock, walking back to the street, calling a cab and going home. Back to her dirty apartment, back to the plethora of dirty dishes and clothes strewn over the floor and furniture. Pictured herself lying down on the couch, letting the cat settle down on her stomach and falling asleep.

Well, maybe Finn would miss her, if only because she provided him with food.

She thought about Liam. He would find someone else, he would be fine. He might go to her funeral, bring a bouquet of roses like he had those first few weeks they were dating. Bailey couldn't remember the last time he had brought her flowers. It wasn't like he was a bad guy . . . he was just too young.

Almost forty now, Bailey had long since resigned herself to the fact that she would probably die alone. Why not just finish the job now?

She hadn't left a note. Who would she write to? Dear Peter, I'm sorry I screwed up your life . . . Dear Aiden, I don't deserve your forgiveness . . . Dear Brett, this isn't your fault.

No, it was no one's fault. There was no one here telling her to jump off this dock except her own depression. It hung over her like a dark cloud, nudging her closer and closer to the edge of the dock. Bailey didn't have the energy to fight it anymore.

She knew what Liam would say if she told him the way she was feeling. You should go see a therapist, he would tell her. It'll help. It wouldn't help. She'd already tried.

The only thing, Bailey knew, that would help, was impossible. Well, no. There were two things. But both were equally unlikely.

One was Olivia coming back from the dead. The other was Bailey regaining custody of her children.

She wanted, desperately, another child. A clean slate to start on. But given her current finances and living situation, she knew it wasn't in her cards. Besides, she didn't want to be a single mother, yet every man she came across seemed to be inadequate.

Bailey looked out across the sea, and out of the foam of a breaking wave came her little sister, walking across the glass surface of the ocean like Jesus, arms outstretched toward her.

"Olivia?" She said out loud, reaching her hand out as well.

Cornsilk hair dry and loose around her shoulders, Olivia approached with a placid smile on her face, one that Bailey had never seen her sister wear in life. She stopped at the edge of the dock, placing her hands on top of Bailey's.

"I want to go with you," she said, running her finger along Olivia's knuckles. She was still beautiful, still very much the woman Bailey had known years ago, but now she glowed. "Take me with you."

Olivia nodded, pulling gently on Bailey's hand. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. What was she thinking? But then she opened her mouth. "Do you trust me?"

Startled by the voice, she blinked hard. These were Olivia's hands, solid in hers. This was Olivia's voice, familiar in her ears. She smiled. "Yes."

Olivia returned her smile. Bailey took her sister's hand and followed her into the sea.