A Place For Us

by Liza Gyllenhaal

  Liam sat huddled on a little ledge below him, hood up, arms wrapped around his knees. Motionless. Michael couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep. He was close enough to touch him.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Liam jerked around, his eyes red-rimmed, his skin ashen.

  “Be careful,” Michael told him gently. “That’s a long fall.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Liam said, turning back around. “I’ve been trying to get my nerve up. But I’m a coward.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Liam didn’t respond. He just hugged himself tighter, and Michael could see that he was trying to control his shivering. Michael edged toward him, hoping to get close enough to be able to grab hold of him if he had to. But he knew how much better it would be if Liam crawled to safety on his own. Faintly, from somewhere to the north, Michael heard the sound of a helicopter. His time alone with Liam was running out.

  “Phoebe told everyone what really happened,” Michael said. “And Carey told me what you did to Brandon. I’m proud of you.”

  “But I lied for him—and messed everything up for you and Mom.”

  “I think I know why you did it, Liam. I didn’t stand up for you the way I should have. I let you down. And I’m sorry.”

  It wasn’t until Liam started to cry that Michael could let himself believe it was going to be okay.

  “Hey,” he said to his son. “Hey, give me your hand. Time to go home.”

  30

  “I found him!”

  Michael’s cry still echoed joyfully in Brook’s memory, though nearly a month had passed since his voice first reached her that morning across the mountaintop. They’d been able to medevac Liam by helicopter to the hospital in Harringdale, where he was treated for hypothermia and exhaustion. Brook and Michael were at Liam’s bedside when he woke from a long, restless sleep.

  “Hi there,” Brook said, taking his hand.

  “Where am I?”

  “Harringdale Medical Center,” Michael told him. “Do you remember how you got here?”

  “Not really,” Liam said, closing his eyes again. He drifted in and out of consciousness for several more hours. But when Michael and Brook worriedly consulted the doctors, they were assured that a certain amount of mental confusion was to be expected and that all of Liam’s vital signs were returning to normal. As the aides came through with the dinner carts, Liam woke again.

  “I’m totally starving!” Liam said, and Brook knew her son was going to be okay. His fatigue and disoriented state of mind hung on for several days, though, after they brought him home. Even when Liam seemed able to finally piece together the jumble of events that had led to his hospitalization, Brook felt something wasn’t right. He was still holding something in—or back—and it worried her.

  Two weeks after Liam’s return, the Bostocks learned that Troy’s lawsuit against them had been dropped. Phoebe’s decision to tell the truth about Brandon, supported by Carey’s statement, had caused the whole house of cards to collapse. Brook began to hope that their lives—especially her son’s—could now start to return to normal. Phoebe came by to visit Liam, and Brook was relieved to hear them talking and listening to music in Liam’s bedroom. The Bostocks invited Carey up for a weekend visit, and he told them about his decision to transfer from Moorehouse to a prep school in Boston.

  “It has a great music department,” Carey explained over a low-key supper around the kitchen table the night he arrived. “And I really want to start to concentrate on what I’m good at.”

  “And your brother?” Michael asked Carey. “What’s he planning to do?” Brandon’s expulsion from Moorehouse for drinking, lying, and sexual assault—facts that came out after further investigation at the prep school—had permanently derailed Brandon’s hopes for Brown.

  “My parents have decided he should repeat his senior year at a private school in Syracuse,” Carey said. “That way they’ll be able to keep an eye on him. Brandon hates the idea, of course.”

  Liam’s future, on the other hand, was still an open question. Brook and Michael had agreed that he should decide for himself.

  “There are a couple of great prep schools right around here,” Brook had mentioned to Liam a few days after Carey’s visit. “You could go as a day student—or board if you like. Whatever you want to do is fine with us.”

  But what Liam wanted—or even what he was thinking—continued to puzzle Brook. He’d responded to her comment with a shrug. The good news was that he was no longer sullen or withdrawn. And he seemed to be enjoying his unscheduled vacation, playing endless rounds of Ping-Pong with Tilly in the basement, and hanging out with Phoebe after school. He’d even gotten in touch with some of his old, oddball friends from Deer Mountain. But, though a cloud had definitely lifted from her son, Brook had yet to feel the warmth he used to generate. She missed his sly sense of humor, and the way he used to tease her. She longed to hear his laugh. It occurred to her that he’d simply outgrown that side of himself. That what he’d gone through at Moorehouse and with Brandon had fundamentally changed him. But her uneasiness persisted. Finally one night when she and Michael were lying together in bed reading, she said, “I think we need to tell Liam about your dad.”

  “You mean we need to tell him about me.”

  “That, too, yes. And Troy and Sylvia. I feel like he’s been walking around with only half the story. Knowing the truth would help him deal with his own problems, don’t you think?”

  “I was planning to talk to him,” Michael said, sitting up. “But I was waiting for him to feel better. I was waiting for the right moment. But that’s bullshit, isn’t it?” Michael threw back the sheets and started to climb out of bed.

  “You’re going to tell him now?”

  “I can hear him practicing guitar in his room,” Michael said. “And you’re right—I just have to get this done.”

  Brook could only imagine how tough the conversation was going to be for Michael. She now understood why her husband had such a hard time opening up about his feelings. In fact, since he’d finally told her about Sylvia, so much about Michael’s reserve made sense to her. If anything, she loved and admired him even more because of it. Her heart went out to the confused and terrified boy he’d once been. It pained her to think of the battles he’d had to fight. But Michael’s strength and discipline had been formed and tested by that experience. And it was those very qualities, after all, that had first drawn her to him.

  The guitar playing stopped. She heard Michael and Liam in the hall, then their footsteps on the stairs. The lights came on in the kitchen. Her husband had a slow and deliberate way of speaking, and she could faintly make out those cadences coming from below.

  She must have dozed off. The next thing she knew, Michael was closing the book she’d had on her lap and pulling it free.

  “How did it go?” she asked.

  “Fine,” he said, leaning over to turn out her bedside light.

  “I need a little more information than that,” she said, sitting up her elbow. “What did he say?”

  “He thanked me,” Michael told her, as he got under the covers.

  “That’s all? You two were down there a while.”

  “He’s been talking to Phoebe and some of his friends at Deer Mountain. He thinks he might want to go back there next year.”

  “Wow. He’s not worried about being ostracized again?”

  “He says he thinks he can handle it. Apparently Phoebe’s been busy on Facebook, and word’s gotten out about how he beat up Brandon. I believe she made it sound a lot more like a TKO than it actually was.”

  “Good for her.”

  “You okay with this, then?”

  “Of course.”

  “Because you mentioned those other prep schools. And he’s worried that you might be disappointed if he doesn’t go that route.”

  “No, I think it’s great he wants to go back. It takes some guts, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I told him I was really proud o
f him,” Michael said, pulling the sheets up around her shoulders. “It’s something I realize now that I never used to say to him.”

  “That’s only because nobody said it to you,” Brook replied, moving into her husband’s arms.

  • • •

  The idea occurred to Brook gradually, though Liam’s decision to go back to Deer Mountain certainly played into it. Julie Dorman’s call also helped shape her thinking.

  “I’d like to talk to you about helping me put together a really special and different sweet sixteen party for my girls,” Julie said. The Dorman twins were a year ahead of Liam at Deer Mountain. “Now that I’m working full-time again, I know it will be more than I can handle on my own.”

  “I’d love to help,” Brook said. The party, which included thirty teenagers from the Barnsbury area and several parents, was what really solidified Brook’s decision. It was themed “Night of the Living Dead,” and Brook had all the guests come dressed as zombies. She’d gotten three leads from the event and was in the process of planning two other birthday parties and an anniversary dinner. She was also talking to the Barnsbury Banner about an ad promoting R.V.S.P.’s services in their June issue.

  “Someone mentioned to me what a great job you did for the Dormans,” the editor told her when Brook called about advertising costs and deadlines. “I’d love to do an article on you as a local business, but I take it you’re really based in Manhattan?”

  “Actually, I’m trying to get more work up here,” Brook said. “And an article on R.S.V.P. would be wonderful. Would you like to drop by for coffee sometime and talk?”

  The day after the editor visited—and came away with a legal pad scribbled with information, a number of digital photos of Brook in her “office kitchen,” and an R.S.V.P. gift basket overflowing with goodies—Brook finally took the plunge and called Alice.

  • • •

  “What’s all this?” Michael asked the following evening when he came down from his studio after work. He found Brook in the dining room, laying the table for two. She’d set out the handblown Venetian glasses and her favorite French linen napkins.

  “Oh, I’m just in a festive mood,” Brook said, turning around. She was wearing the blue silk dress she knew he liked.

  “Did I forget something?” he asked, frowning, taking in the candles and the arrangement of early tulips. “I mean . . . our anniversary’s not—”

  “No, don’t worry,” Brook said. “I thought it would be fun to do something special for the two of us. Wanda took the kids out to the movies and pizza.”

  “Wanda?” Michael asked.

  “Yes,” Brook said, “I think she’s trying to make amends—though I’ve tried to tell her that we don’t blame her for anything.” But Phoebe’s mom clearly felt responsible for what had happened and was doing her best to set the record straight. Wanda’s very vocal denunciation around town of Troy’s underhanded dealings had firmly swung public opinion around in the Bostocks’ favor. Brook could feel it everywhere she turned these days. It was one of the good things that had come out of the long, bad months she and Michael had suffered through together. The other was what she told him that night over dessert.

  “I’m thinking of selling the business to Alice.”

  “What? But why? It’s going so well. Aren’t you busier now than you’ve ever been?”

  “Exactly,” Brook said. “Which means there’s enough steady income at this point for Alice to get a loan to start to buy me out—and hire someone new to help her manage things in the city. I’ll keep rights to the R.S.V.P. name to use up here.”

  “But . . . I guess I don’t understand. You built the company up from nothing. And you’re so proud of it.”

  “I can still be proud—selling a business at its peak is a pretty great feeling. But I’m tired of trying to deal long-distance with all the problems. And having to run down to the city every couple of weeks to help with events. These last few months I’ve felt torn every time I had to leave Barnsbury. Torn and, frankly, less and less interested in the big-deal benefits we have to put on in the city. I still love what I do. But I know I’m going to be a lot happier building a different kind of R.S.V.P.—more creative and informal—one that fits better with the way we live up here.”

  Michael just sat there looking at her across the table.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked finally.

  “Yes.”

  “And Alice is on board?”

  “I think she’s thrilled—and relieved,” Brook said. “I had no idea how much slack she’s been picking up for me this year. But she said a few things when we talked this through that made me see that she’s been shouldering a lot more of the workload than I realized.”

  “She’s a good friend.”

  “And a good business partner,” Brook said. “But I’m more than ready to let that side of things go. I plan to hold on tight to the friendship, though.”

  “I’m all for that,” Michael said, reaching across the table to take Brook’s hand. “We owe her a lot.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Michael tilted his head and smiled at her.

  “Do you think you’re ready for another deep, dark secret of mine?”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered—though it seemed like years ago now—what Alice had told her at Christmas. So much had happened since then that she’d almost managed to forget her husband’s deception. But not quite.

  “It depends on what it is,” she said, pulling her hand free and crossing her arms on her chest.

  “What’s that look for?” he said with a laugh. “It’s nothing terrible, I promise. Just a little heads-up that Alice gave me a long time ago. It seemed like nothing at the time, but I think in many ways it’s really responsible for our being together.”

  “Well? What is it?” Brook said, trying not to listen to all the alarm bells that were going off inside her head.

  “She took me aside at the benefit auction where we met, and told me you were ‘one of the Pendleton Pendletons.’ She said she could tell I was really interested in you—and that I shouldn’t let your name get in my way.”

  “Really?” Brook said, trying hard to act surprised. In fact, she was stunned by the calm, lighthearted way he was telling her all of this. “So why did you pretend not to know for so long?”

  “To give us a chance,” he said, searching her face.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m sorry,” Michael said, his tone changing. “I can tell this is upsetting to you. I thought you’d find it kind of amusing after all this time. I mean, honestly, do you really think I’d have had the nerve to pursue you if I knew who you really were?”

  “But apparently you did know—and you did pursue me.”

  “Only because you didn’t know that I knew.”

  “This is getting complicated.”

  “Well, it was a pretty complicated situation. And I realized that my only hope was to keep it simple. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.”

  “And me you.”

  “So do we have a problem here?”

  She looked in his eyes. She took in his smile. She realized now that she’d never really doubted him. It was herself she always had such a hard time believing in. But that was changing.

  “No, we don’t,” she told him.

  “Good,” he said, rising from his chair and reclaiming her hand. “So, how long do you think we have until the kids get home?”

  Liza Gyllenhaal spent many years in advertising and publishing. She lives with her husband in New York City and western Massachusetts. She is the author of the novels Local Knowledge and So Near, both published by NAL.

  CONVERSATION GUIDE

  A Place for Us

  LIZA GYLLENHAAL

  This Conversation Guide is intended to enrich the individual reading experience, as well as encourage us to explore these topics together—because books, and life, are meant for sharing.

  CONVERSATION
GUIDE

  A CONVERSATION WITH LIZA GYLLENHAAL

  Q. Where did you get the idea for this novel?

  A. A few years ago I heard a news story on our local public radio station in Massachusetts about a married couple who were being arraigned under the Social Host Liability law. Two teenagers had been seriously injured in a car crash after drinking with the couple’s son at a party in the family’s basement. Though the parents had been asleep upstairs and unaware of the underage drinking, one of the injured teenager’s family was bringing a lawsuit against the couple. Understandably, the rural community where the accident occurred was upset about the incident—but also divided about where the responsibility rested. As someone who loves writing about families and small towns, the story couldn’t help but capture my imagination.

  I began to think about how I might turn this basic premise into a convincing work of fiction. I let the idea simmer while I finished my novel So Near, but then started to outline a plot and flesh out the characters.

  Coincidentally, as I began writing the novel, a very similar incident took place in a town not far from us in the Berkshires. In this case, tragically, one of the teenagers involved was killed. This senseless death brought home to me how serious and pertinent the problem of underage drinking remains.

  Q. The story is told from the different points of view of four main characters. Did you find that difficult to pull off?

  A. Both of my previous novels, Local Knowledge and So Near, were written in the first person, though in So Near it was a husband and wife who alternately told their stories. I thought it would be interesting to try more points of view with this novel, but I also realized that using four different first-person voices would probably drive me—and readers—crazy. So I decided to write the novel in what is sometimes called the close third person, which means that the story is being told by “he” or “she” rather than “I” but, hopefully, from pretty deep inside the head of the character in question.