The Jade Notebook
Authors: Laura Resau
Also by Laura Resau
The Ruby Notebook
The Indigo Notebook
The Queen of Water
Red Glass
Star in the Forest
What the Moon Saw
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2012 by Laura Resau
Jacket photographs © 2012 Sergey Borisov for iStockphoto (girl in water);
Ben Osborne for Nature Picture Library (turtles in water);
Doug Perrine for Nature Picture Library (turtle on spine)
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to Coleman Barks for permission to reprint Rumi excerpts from
The Essential Rumi
, translated by Coleman Barks, copyright © 1995 by Coleman Barks (HarperSanFrancisco, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers).
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Resau, Laura.
The jade notebook / Laura Resau.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Sequel to: The ruby notebook.
Summary: After down-to-earth Zeeta and her flighty mother, Layla, settle in the idyllic beachside town of Mazunte, Mexico, where Zeeta’s true love, Wendell, has an internship photographing rare sea turtles, Zeeta discovers that paradise has its dark side as she and Wendell dig deeper to unearth her elusive father’s past.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89941-6
[1. Missing persons—Fiction. 2. Secrets—Fiction. 3. Mothers and daughters—Fiction. 4. Single-parent families—Fiction. 5. Mazunte (Mexico)—Fiction. 6. Mexico—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.R2978Jad 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2011034861
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
To my mother, Christine Resau
I’ve been fortunate to work once again with the wonderful people at Delacorte Press, especially my bright, warm editors: Krista Vitola, who has provided valuable revision guidance throughout the entire Notebooks series; Françoise Bui, who has been a complete delight to work with on this, our first book together; and Stephanie Elliott, my longtime editor. I’ve been enormously grateful to Stephanie from the moment she pulled my first manuscript from the slush pile. It’s truly been a privilege being your colleague and friend, Stephanie—you have changed my life!
A big thank-you to my beloved agent, Erin Murphy; to the fabulous women of Old Town Writing Group—Sarah Ryan, Leslie Patterson, Molly Reid, Dana Masden, Carrie Visintainer, and Laura Pritchett; and to my young adult writer friends—Todd Mitchell, Victoria Hanley, Amy Kathleen Ryan, Ingrid Law, and Lauren Sabel—who all offer creative nourishment. Gloria Garcia Diaz,
querida amiga, gracias
for your Spanish help and your soulful rendition of the folk song “La Llorona,” which always brings tears to my eyes.
Gracias
for conversations with the gracious experts at Mazunte’s Turtle Center and with the sweet family who runs the eco-resort El Copal.
My mother, Chris, has been essential to my writing; not one of my books would exist without her intelligent feedback and unwavering support. Both my mother and my father, Jim, are as steadfast and helpful as the sea turtles in this book (but not as ancient)! Thanks, Dad, for the fantastic, dusty sea turtle book you dug up for me, probably at the Goodwill—you are my eternal source of treasures. I’m grateful to my brother, Mike, whose love and talent for photography inspired aspects of Wendell’s character. Finally, thank you, Ian and Bran, for your big hearts and hugs and patience as we bumble through this delicious mess called life!
One must have chaos within to give birth to a dancing star
.
—Friedrich Nietzsche
At sunset, Comet Point feels like the tip of the world. Far below, the water churns, slapping against the crags, spraying my skin. I gaze past the jagged rocks, where the sea smooths into silk and spreads out to touch the sky. And there on the horizon, the sun dips lower and lower, setting the clouds on fire.
Here at the cliff’s edge, the tiniest details are magnified: every fine hair on my arms moving in the breeze, every pebble pressing into my palms, every speck of dirt clinging to the backs of my thighs. A tiny pink boat, upside down on a patch of sand. The silhouette of a fisherman, his line catching light.
After the sun slides through the last puddle of flames and disappears into the sea, I stand up, brushing the dust from my dress. My eyes stay fixed on the fading line where
sky meets water as I walk toward the mainland, weaving around hardy shrubs and a huge saguaro cactus. Soon sky and sea are the same shade of twilight blue with a hint of silver, indistinguishable.
Once I reach the steep part of the path, I scramble up the rocks, looking for safe footing. Comet Point, not surprisingly, is shaped like a comet, the head being the tip of the peninsula. I make my way up the comet’s fiery tail, which ends in jungle high above the beach.
When we decided to move to Mexico, I had no idea that this little beach town would feel like a shoe that fits as if it were made just for me. Mazunte is the home I’d given up on ever finding. Why does this place, of the dozens of breathtaking places I’ve lived, feel so exquisitely perfect? I can’t pinpoint a reason—not a logical one, anyway. Maybe, somehow, the silvery strands of the comet pulled me toward Mazunte from far across the ocean.
