I glance over at her. I can smell the warm doughnuts in the bag she’s carrying. She already ate one; there’s sugar on the corners of her mouth.
“I don’t know. Maybe to get our stuff. Do you want to say good-bye to your friends? To Nana?”
She thinks for a minute and then shrugs. “Not really. Nana didn’t like me that much. And I can FaceTime my friends.”
I smile to myself.
“And Dad’s really not coming back here? He’d rather stay with them than come with us?”
I exhale. “It’s way more complicated than that.”
When Mom and Dad sat us down last night and told us they were separating, Izzy bawled. And I got a little teary. But . . . I don’t think I can go back to that house and I don’t think I’m ready to be on my own, either. Hell, right now, I’m a high school dropout. I need Mom. And I need Izzy. And losing Dad . . . fallout. There has to be some, doesn’t there? And I don’t think this is the end of my relationship with Dad. We’ll figure things out, he and I.
I think Mom and Dad are making the right decision and I’m proud of Mom. I know this can’t have been easy for her. She was only a few months older than me when she met Dad. (I can’t imagine me, right now, being old enough to choose a lifelong mate. I had a hard enough time picking out doughnuts this morning.) But I think once we got to Maine, Mom realized that even though she left Vegas thinking our road trip was a way to save me, it ended up being about saving herself, too. I wouldn’t say so, but even though Mom wasn’t cutting herself with razor blades, I think she was as screwed up as I was.
Heavy stuff for a sunny April morning.
“You going to be okay living here with me and Mom?” I ask my little sister. “Because you can go to Vegas with Dad. Mom said so.”
She frowns. “It disappoints me that you’d say that. You’re my sister. You should know me better than that.”
I shrug. “When a family is splitting up, it’s important that children don’t feel they’re powerless.”
“Did you read that S on the Internet?” She licks sugar off her finger. “You’re an idiot.”
I laugh because while it may not be a nice thing to say to your sister, I know she doesn’t mean anything by it. And the fact that she’s speaking to me again is worth any derogatory remarks she can throw my way.
When we get back to Laney’s house, Mom and Dad are on the front porch, talking quietly. They both look sad . . . but not mad. It’s clear this was a mutual agreement and there was no question that Mom would keep Izzy, which is good because I think that will make things easier for Izzy. It wouldn’t be good for her to have her parents in some kind of crazy-ass custody battle like the kind some of my friends have gone through over the years.
I see Dad’s duffel bag at the bottom of the steps. He didn’t bring much with him; I don’t think he ever had any intention of staying with us long. I wonder if it hurts him too much to be with us, with Caitlin gone now. Kind of like me not being able to be in our house. I don’t get it because people are different than things, but I’m trying not to judge. I, of all people, ought to know that everyone deals with their pain in different ways. Even if I never cut myself again, I’ll probably carry that reminder for the rest of my life.
When Mom sees us, she comes down the steps. “I was beginning to wonder if you got lost.”
“We waited for a fresh batch. They had blueberry and the cinnamon crunch. We got a dozen.” Izzy holds up the bag.
I hand Mom her caramel latte and look up at Dad, who’s coming down the steps. “We’re not taking you to the airport?” I ask him. I keep my tone neutral. I’m trying to be mature about this whole thing, but there’s still a little part of me that’s disappointed in him, that he can’t be who we need him to be.
“I called a cab,” he says.
He looks sad. And his eyes are red. Mom’s obviously been crying, but I think maybe he has been too.
“I wish you could stay another day, Dad,” Izzy says. “There’s a show on Discovery tonight about how maybe aliens came from another solar system and built the pyramids.”
He puts one arm around her and kisses the top of her head. “The Egyptians built the pyramids, sweetie. We have records.”
“I know.” She sniffs. Her eyes are getting watery too. But she’s not crying. “But it’s fun to watch things together.”
“So maybe we can figure out how to FaceTime and watch shows together.”
She frowns. “With the time zone difference?”
“Quit being a naysayer. We’ll record the shows and watch them together.” He kisses her again, like he can’t get enough of her.
She looks to me. “What’s a naysayer?”
“What it sounds like, but I’ll explain it to you later,” I tell her, seeing the cab approach.
We all watch in silence as the cab pulls up in front of Laney’s house.
Dad grabs his duffel and Mom walks over to him and they say something I can’t hear. Then Dad kisses her on the cheek, which makes me tear up. I have the sudden thought that maybe we’re making a terrible mistake. That maybe we should just go back to Vegas with Dad and try harder. But looking at Mom’s face, I know that’s not an option now, at least for her. Which means it isn’t for me. My first inclination when Mom and Dad told us last night that they were separating, my first impulse was to blame myself. One more way I’ve screwed things up. But I know I’m not responsible for this. I don’t know if Caitlin hadn’t died, if they could stay together, but I know that marriages often don’t withstand this kind of tragedy.
Dad lets go of Mom and walks over and hugs Izzy again. Then he turns to me. I’m going to feel like an idiot if I start crying.
“Bye, Haley.” He puts his arm around me.
I turn around and throw both arms around him. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I whisper. “For everything.”
He squeezes me, his voice breaking. “I know.”
We all stand together in a huddle and watch Dad get into the cab. Izzy lifts her hand to him, the doughnuts still in her other hand.
I put my arm around her and whisper. “It’s going to be okay, Sizzy Izzy. We’re going to be okay.”
Epilogue
Julia
9 months
“Mom?” Haley calls. I hear a tap on the office door and it swings open. I’m sitting at my desk, my pink reading glasses perched on my nose, staring at the computer screen, trying to make sense of an invoice.
Haley stands in the doorway wearing black jeans and a pale blue polar fleece with our café’s embroidered logo on it. Her hair has grown; it’s pulled back in a ponytail. It’s still dyed, but a gentler shade of dark brown, closer to her natural color. She’s still wearing too much eye pencil, in my opinion, but she looks cute. Like a normal college freshman. “Ed says we’re going to need more chicken breasts before the order comes in next week.”
I take my reading glasses off. They embarrass me and tickle me at the same time. They’re pink with rhinestones; Izzy picked them out at a boutique in Las Vegas when we flew home for Ben’s birthday last month. It was actually a fun trip; we visited the Hoover Dam for the millionth time and ate at one of the girls’ favorite restaurants. A little like the old days, but not of course, because we don’t have Caitlin anymore and Ben and I are in the process of divorcing. I was glad we went. There seemed to be a kind of closure in the visit. At least a quiet acceptance of the new normal.
“I’ll give Cabo Farms a call,” I tell Haley.
“I can call them and pick up the chicken after my accounting class tomorrow.” She steps into the messy office that’s piled with stuff I need to go through: clothing samples we’re considering selling with our logo on them, two cases of vegan potato chips that was incorrectly delivered, and who knows what else. “I just wanted to make sure it was okay if I charged them.”
“It’s fine.”
I can’t stop staring at her; she doesn’t look like the same kid she was when we got here. She’s gained a little weight and she has col
or in her cheeks; I can’t tell if it’s sunburn or windburn. She bought a kayak this summer and kayaks several times a week. She says it clears her head. She’s doing so well. I’m so proud of her. That’s not to say she doesn’t have her dark moments. We all do. But she managed to get her high school diploma through a summer program and she’s attending community college with twelve credit hours, and working in the café.
“What?” Haley says, scrunching up her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She wipes at her mouth. “Have I got something on my face? I was trying our new lettuce wraps. The mahi with aioli is bangin’.”
I shake my head. “You’re fine. No reason.”
“Can I have a sandwich to go?” Izzy hollers from the hallway. “Mom! Eddie says he hasn’t shut the grill down yet.” She walks through the doorway, dressed in her white tae kwon do dobok.
“You’re going to have to hurry.” I pick up my cell from the desk, check the time, and set it down again. “We have to go in ten minutes.” I squint at the computer screen. “I think the green grocer’s messed up our invoice again. We didn’t order a case of turnips, did we?”
“I don’t eat turnips,” Izzy says, tightening her belt.
Izzy has shot up two inches since spring, and when I took her shopping for school clothes last month, I actually bought her a couple of bras. She might not need them yet, but soon, I think. Her body’s changing too fast for me; I’m not looking forward to going through puberty with another girl.
“We didn’t order a case. I ordered one bunch. To try out a couple of recipes for changes to the fall menu,” Haley says. She glances at her sister and then at me. “If you want to finish up here, I can take her to tae kwon do. I’ll just wait around for her and we’ll meet you at home. It’s Laney’s turn to make dinner. We’re on cleanup.”
We rented the house next door to Laney and during the week, we take turns making dinner. It saves time for everyone and the communal meals are a good opportunity to make my girls, and Laney’s boys, feel like they’re part of a family. It’s just not a conventional family.
“You don’t have homework?”
Haley makes a face. “You can’t ask me if I have homework, Mom. I told you that.”
“I know. I know.” I hold up my hand, getting up from the desk to stretch my legs. I’ve been sitting here for hours. I’m amazed by the amount of paperwork a twenty-four-seat café can produce. I fall into bed exhausted every night. But it’s a good kind of exhaustion, the kind you experience when you’ve set off on an impossible journey and discovered it’s not impossible. “I just didn’t want you spending time running errands for me if you need to study.”
“It’s fine. I can do my reading in that little waiting area.”
“So can I have the sandwich?” Izzy asks. She’s wearing her red hair in two braids the way Laney does; Laney taught her how to do it.
“You can, but first you have to give me a kiss. I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Mom,” Izzy groans.
I walk around my desk and cut between two boxes. “Just a little hug,” I tease, opening my arms.
Haley backs up into the doorway as I wrap my arms around my youngest. “Don’t look at me,” Haley tells us. “I’m not getting into the middle of this hugfest.”
Izzy gives me a quick squeeze and pulls away. “See you at home.” She runs out the door. “Bye, Mom. Love you. Mean it.”
“You sure you don’t want me to take her?” I ask Haley.
“She’ll be fine, Mom.” She rests her hand on the doorknob. “It’s ten minutes away. You know I’ll be super careful.”
I meet Haley’s gaze. “I didn’t mean it that way,” I say. The first couple of times Haley drove Izzy I did worry myself to death, but after three months, I’ve relaxed. That’s not to say I don’t think about the accident or Caitlin. I do. Every day. Sometimes the pain is sudden and so intense that I think I’ll just crumble.
But I don’t.
Because I’m strong, like my daughters.
Please turn the page for a very special Q&A with Colleen Faulkner!
What was the most difficult thing about writing Julia’s Daughters?
I think the hardest thing about writing this kind of book is being unable to separate myself from the feelings of the characters I’m writing about. While I’m aware that the characters in books aren’t real people, in order to write about their pain, Julia’s in particular, because I’m also a mother, I couldn’t help feeling some of that pain. The upside is that when Julia and her girls were able to laugh or feel good about themselves, if only for a moment, I felt that joy, as well.
In Just Like Other Daughters, As Close As Sisters, and now in Julia’s Daughters, you tackle some pretty difficult life challenges. What makes you gravitate to these kinds of stories?
I come from a family of very strong women, particularly my mother, and I was fortunate enough to have known not just my grandmother, but my great-grandmother and my great-great-grandmother. They were such amazing role models and they told the best stories about their lives, stories I still carry with me even though most of them are gone now. The thing that struck me about the Faulkner women is the same thing that I see in the women in my life today, friends and family. It’s in the face of adversity that ordinary women become extraordinary and I think we all have the capacity to be extraordinary women. Unfortunately, it’s often only when we’re faced with difficult circumstances that we find out just how strong we can be.
Tell us a little bit about how you write. Computer or longhand? Do you write every day? Do you have a special place to write where you feel most creative?
I write Monday through Friday, about nine to six, and rarely on weekends, except to make up for a missed day. I know that sounds boring and not at all creative, but I’ve been writing and publishing for twenty-eight years and keeping to a schedule means I make my deadlines. I have an office in my home where I’ve always worked, but about a year ago I started getting up in the morning and going to a local coffee shop to write. You would think that the noise and confusion around me would be a detriment to my creativity, but it isn’t. Writing is such a solitary vocation; I think I like being out in the world. I write on a laptop and rely totally on the wonders of modern technology. I never print hard copies of anything, which worries my mother because she’s a writer, too, and she’s always worried I’ll “lose” my work. The only people who read my manuscript before it goes to my editor and agent are my mom, who reads it for content, and my husband, who finds the typos.
What’s up next?
The next Colleen Faulkner book will be released in November of 2016, but I’m one of those writers who never likes to share what she’s working on until I absolutely have to. I consider myself more of a storyteller than a writer and the storyteller in me doesn’t like to tell the same story over and over. Somehow it loses some of its magic in the retelling. By keeping my book to myself, I find I’m eager to get up every morning and get to work because each day is the first time I’m telling that story. Eventually, though, I’ll be forced to share the details with my agent and editor, so you can check my Web site periodically for news on the new book: www.colleenfaulknernovels.com
A READING GROUP GUIDE
JULIA’S DAUGHTERS
Colleen Faulkner
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The suggested questions are included to
enhance your group’s reading of
Colleen Faulkner’s Julia’s Daughters.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Can you understand why Julia was unable to get out of bed for the first six weeks after Caitlin’s death? How would you have responded in her circumstances?
2. Do you think the lack of communication between Julia and Ben contributed to Haley’s emotional desperation? Why or why not?
3. If the family had known that Izzy was talking to her dead sister, how do you think they would have responded? Why was Izzy talking to Caitlin?
4. When Julia decided to
take the road trip to Maine with Haley, do you think it was a good idea or a bad one? Did you see the logic in her reasoning?
5. Why did Julia take Izzy with them? Would it have been better for Izzy if her mother had left her home? Would it have been better for Haley if Izzy had stayed in Nevada?
6. Why do you think Ben refused to take the road trip to Maine with his family? Do you think he was justified in his reasoning?
7. How do you think events would have played out differently had Haley’s pregnancy test been positive?
8. Did Caitlin’s death weaken or strengthen Julia’s relationship with Haley and Izzy? How did her death affect Ben and Julia’s relationship?
9. Why do you think Izzy shut Haley out so completely? If Julia hadn’t gone back for Izzy, would Izzy and Haley have ever been able to repair their relationship?
10. In the epilogue, Julia and her girls seem to be doing well. Do you think a family can ever recover from such a tragedy?
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2015 by Colleen Faulkner
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-6177-3933-0
First Kensington Electronic Edition: November 2015
Julia's Daughters Page 28