Heartbroken (46 page)

She climbed off the foundation, her sciatic nerve screeching in protest as she descended the steps. She walked stiffly around the house and up the path to Lookout Rock. It was here that she’d had a small gazebo erected, a place where she could sit and gaze out over the lake and the other islands, or back at the mainland.

From up here, she could see every point on the island not obscured by trees. She thought how much Caroline would have liked it, a place to sit and write. It was with her sister in mind that she’d had it built. It was an apology, in a way. It was too little and, of course, far too late. There was no making amends for a lifetime of catfights and angry words, misunderstandings, and grudges held for decades. Even now Birdie couldn’t remember why they’d always fought. It was jealousy, she supposed, over who had what and who didn’t—beauty, love, children, happiness, their mother’s love and confidence, Heart Island. It seemed silly now, though it certainly hadn’t then.

Sitting in the gazebo, Birdie remembered what it was like to be a child on Heart Island, before all the anger and bitterness between her and her siblings had erupted and then cooled and hardened. She remembered what it was like to play pretend or read, to nap in the hammock or gaze at the stars, to just
be
in this place that asked nothing but your presence. In a way, she’d spent her whole life trying
to find her way back to her memory of it. But she wondered if that memory was, as Kate said, a fiction she had created, an idyllic dream of a place that never was. Maybe Heart Island was exactly what it was right now, and could never be what you wished it was or believed it had been once.

At the line of trees, she saw him. He was her companion in this place, always in the periphery, never coming into focus. If she marched toward him, as she often did, he’d disappear. She was not afraid of him anymore. He was not a destroyer, as she had once assumed of him. He was just a watcher here, as was she. He was someone who remembered—with passion, with regret, with love—something he would never have again.

Acknowledgments

S
O MUCH
happens internally before words finally find their way onto the page that sitting down to write a novel often feels as if it’s the last 5 percent of the process. Then, once the book is written, there are miles to go before it arrives on the shelves. Writing is a journey the author makes alone. But publishing is a team effort. Without the support of the following people, you wouldn’t be holding this book in your hands.

My husband, Jeffrey, and daughter, Ocean Rae, are the rock-solid foundation of my life. Without them, I wouldn’t be the person or the writer that I am. Every day, they fuel me with love, laughter, and light. In the chaos of our zany days, there is a special kind of peace, a place where I dwell and am at my happiest. Thanks, guys. You’re everything, always.

The best editors understand that authors are a little nervous, a slightly crazy bunch, and do much better inside their own heads than without. These editors know how to get the best work out of their authors, usher them through the publishing process, and wait on the other side to cheer them on when the book hits the shelves. I have been so lucky in this respect. Shaye Areheart is a gifted and loving editor who has helped to shape my work, and she has become a dear and important friend. I can say the same about John Glusman, my in-house editor. I am indebted to them both—for their tremendous talent, their support, and their stellar friendship.

My agent, the brilliant and fabulous Elaine Markson, is my unflagging
supporter, tireless champion, and wonderful friend. Her assistant, the incomparable Gary Johnson, keeps me sane, organized, and, most important, laughing. I really can’t begin to list everything they do for me, day after day, or to express my endless gratitude. I hope they know how much I appreciate them.

I also offer my humble thanks to the excellent team at Crown, including but not limited to Maya Mavjee, Molly Stern, Zachary Wagman, Jill Flaxman, Jay Sones, David Drake, Annsley Rosner, Sarah Breivogel, Linda Kaplan, Karin Schulze, Marysarah Quinn, Nupoor Gordon, Cindy Berman, Domenica Alioto, Christine Kopprasch, Jacqui Lebow, Christine Edwards, Andy Augusto, and Kristen Fleming. And I can never heap enough praise on the amazing, top-notch sales force. The reps are on the front lines of an ultra-competitive, ever-changing business. I know that my books find their way into the hands of readers largely through their tireless efforts on my behalf.

My family and friends continue to cheer me through the good days and drag me through the challenging ones. Thanks to my parents, Joe and Virginia Miscione, and to my brother and his wife, Joe and Tara, for their love, support, and for endlessly spreading the word. I haven’t published a thing that the dear, funny, and talented Heather Mikesell hasn’t read first. Marion Chartoff and Tara Popick, my two oldest friends, have been with me on this journey every step of the way.

About the Author

L
ISA
U
NGER
is an award-winning
New York Times
and international best-selling author. Her novels have sold over one million copies in the United States and have been translated into twenty-six different languages.

She was born in New Haven, Connecticut, but grew up in the Netherlands, England, New Jersey, and New York, where she graduated from the New School for Social Research. Lisa now divides her time, along with her husband and daughter, between Florida and New York City.