Authors: Diane Chamberlain
Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Psychological, #General, #Thrillers, #Suspense
Maya
One Year Later
F
ROM THE NURSERY
,
WHERE
I’
VE COME TO RETRIEVE
J
ACK’S
stuffed elephant, Lucky, I can see our backyard. The green, leafy wall of trees surrounds the grassy ellipse, where we’ve set the picnic table with paper plates and plastic cups. Lawn chairs dot the yard, and there’s baby gear everywhere. Simmee invited three of her friends and their toddlers over to celebrate Jack’s first birthday with us, and I smile as I watch one of them shoo Chauncey away from her diaper bag. Chauncey gives up and saunters over to the grill, where Rebecca is in charge of the burgers and hot dogs. I see her say something to the dog. I imagine she’s telling him he doesn’t stand a chance at getting a tidbit tossed his way, but I know Chauncey’s big brown eyes will get to her sooner or later.
Adam is bent over slightly, holding Jack’s hands as the little boy walks along the edge of the yard, exploring the garden. Jack tips his head back to look up at him, and Adam lets go of one of his hands to point at a daylily. Jack will be walking by himself
in a week or two, I predict. He’s the sort of baby people can’t help but coo over. His skin is the color of my cream-laced morning coffee and his eyes are a pale amber, but it’s his smile that captivates strangers on the street. There’s a bit of the devil in that smile, and as tough as this year has been for all of us, I think Simmee has some tougher years ahead of her with her rambunctious little son.
Simmee’s kneeling next to one of her friends, playing with the friend’s baby, but she has her eye on Jack. She’s an overprotective mother, but who can blame her? She’s in a program with other teen moms, including the three here at Jack’s party, learning how to be a good parent. She’s way ahead of most of those girls in the parenting department, but she still has plenty to learn about living in the twenty-first century. She’s a quick study, though. Adam bought her a computer to help with her schoolwork as she studies for her GED, and she figured out Facebook faster than Adam, Rebecca and me put together. She started with her little circle of friends from the teen moms group, and yesterday she told me she has over one hundred, which would scare me if I weren’t so proud of her. Adam gave her the “be careful on the Internet” lecture, and I know she was listening, because she said she doesn’t want her real name out there. Period. I think she still has nightmares about Tully, but I don’t. Tully is locked up forever.
No one lives at Last Run Shelter now, at least not that anyone knows of. Larry finally persuaded Lady Alice to move in with him and his family. I don’t know how he did it; I only know that I’m glad he did. We’ve visited her twice at Larry’s. Lady Alice, Larry, his wife, Emma Lorraine, and their two teenage sons are Jack’s family, and they accept Simmee and the baby to varying degrees. Lady Alice, of course, dotes on her grandson.
I hear Rebecca call to Simmee and her friends, and the girls
begin to stand, gathering up their kids as they head toward the grill. I guess the burgers are done. I reach into Jack’s crib for Lucky and head for the stairs.
Shortly after my return from Last Run Shelter, Rebecca and I shared the truth about the night of our parents’ murders with each other, twenty years too late to save ourselves from the guilt of our separate secrets. I’d been afraid she would blame me if she knew the role I’d played, and she’d been afraid I’d blame her for the same reason.
“We were
both
to blame,” she said, when we’d each revealed the truth.
I’d shaken my head, remembering Simmee’s words to me when I’d told her the story. “Neither of us was to blame,” I said. “We weren’t the ones who pulled the trigger.”
Last week, Rebecca and Adam told me they’re expecting a baby in May. I know they were nervous about telling me, just as they were nervous in February, when they told me how close they’d become while I was missing, and just as they were nervous in April, when they told me they were getting married. By the time they’d told me about their relationship, Adam and I had been separated for two months, a parting that had been as amicable as that sort of thing can be. Simmee had worried that she was the cause of our breakup, but I assured her it would have happened whether she’d been living with us or not. Adam and I wanted different things. It was both that simple and that complex. I’m glad for him and Rebecca, and now that I’ve started the process to adopt a little girl from Ethiopia on my own, I think they finally believe me. For the first time since my parents died, I feel as though I’m part of a real family.
So, for a short time, there had been a triangle between the three of us, of which I’d been completely unaware. My sister, my husband and me. Now the triangle has become a circle, and
a circle can encompass so much more. It can hold not only the three of us, but a young woman and her baby, as well, and it will expand to take in whatever children will follow, and whatever men might wander into our midst. Whatever friends.
Every family has a story, and I love that those stories are etched in sand rather than granite. That way we can change them. We can bury the lies and embrace the truth.
And we can move forward.
As usual, I owe the biggest thank-you to my significant other, John Pagliuca. I don’t think John’s ever said, “Can we talk about it later?” when I’ve needed to think out loud about my story. Thank you, John, for all you do to help me write.
While researching
The Lies We Told,
I stumbled across an article by emergency room physician, Hemant Vankawala, in which he described his experiences working with evacuees in the New Orleans airport after Hurricane Katrina. Dr. Vankawala became my gracious expert on medical relief work, and I don’t know how I would have written about the fictional DIDA organization without him. Other medical advisors were Marti Porter, R.N., and paramedic Cass Topinka. Thank you all for being so generous with your time and information, as well as for the work you do.
For helping me learn about my setting, thank you Glen Pierce, Sterling Bryson, Tori Jones, Kim Hennes, Dave and Elizabeth Samuels, Bland Simpson, Dixie Browning and Brooks Preik of Two Sisters’ Bookery in Wilmington, NC.
For coming up with the name
Last Run Shelter,
thank you
faithful reader and blog commenter, Margo Petrus. Gina Wys helped me understand what life is like after a hurricane. Dave Samuels taught me all I needed to know about helicopters. And Vivian I. Vanove gave me the inside skinny on the Wilmington airport.
For their various contributions, thank you Nellie Mae Batson, Gabe Bowne, Lynnette Jahr, Julie Kibler, Mary Kilchenstein, Ann Longrie, Melinda Smith, Betty Sullivan, Kathy Williamson, and Julia Burney-Witherspoon and her organization, www.cops-n-kids.org.
For brainstorming help and all-around support and friendship, I’m grateful to the six other members of the “Weymouth Seven”: Mary Kay Andrews, Margaret Maron, Katy Munger, Sarah Shaber, Alexandra Sokoloff and Brenda Witchger.
For their invaluable feedback and for always being there for me, my editor Susan Swinwood and my agent Susan Ginsburg.
And finally, thank you Denise Gibbs, who helped in too many ways to count. You rock!
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5606-8
THE LIES WE TOLD
Copyright © 2010 by Diane Chamberlain.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].