Darkness My Old Friend
Page 35
When he got back to the house, the sun was already low in the sky. The days were getting shorter. Ricky’s car was waiting in the driveway. Ricky would be home tomorrow. They’d already made plans to go look at a new stereo for the car, something the kid wanted for Christmas. Jones knew that it would probably be their only time together. Ricky would be seeing his friends who were home for the weekend, too, including Charlene, his son’s on-again, off-again girlfriend. At the moment they were only friends. She made Jones nervous, for a lot of reasons. Too much history there, like everything in The Hollows. Everything was tangled and connected across years and families. He wanted Ricky to get away, not be tethered here to this place as he was, as Maggie was now because of Jones.
Anyway, he’d make his time with Ricky count. He’d talk, wouldn’t get all tongue-tied and silent. He’d written some things down, questions to ask about MyFace, and e-mail, texting, too. He’d ask about Rick’s music. Did he find a band? And what were his favorite classes? Had he met any girls? Maggie had helped him come up with some topics. And listen when he talks. Try not to do any lecturing, even if you don’t agree with what he says.
On the porch he stopped to look up at the mourning doves. They both sat in their perch and stared at him. One of them issued an annoyed little chirp.
“Okay, fine,” he said. “One more night.”
He went inside. There was music playing, something classical (slow and depressing), maybe Chopin? He followed the sound and found Maggie in the kitchen, cooking-a rarity since Ricky had left home. She was making lasagna, their son’s favorite.
“My last patient canceled today,” she said when he walked in. “I thought I’d do something special, since Rick is coming home tomorrow.” She’d been better about calling him that; their son didn’t like “Ricky” anymore.
He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, took in the scent of her hair, lavender and sage. And in the warmth of his own kitchen, with his wife in his arms, his son on his way home, his calling acknowledged if not exactly answered, Jones Cooper felt good. He felt alive, and grateful for it.
“Another call came in while you were out,” she said. “Eloise Montgomery.”
“Oh?” The sound of her name stirred something in him. It wasn’t anxiety, exactly. But it was something close.
“She asked if you’d return her call. In fact, what she said precisely was, ‘Will you ask him to please call, if he is so moved?’ ”
What had the doctor said? I just wonder if it’s not the darkness of it all that calls you, Jones. The doctor was right. The darkness did call to him, didn’t it? And he would answer. He spun his wife around and kissed her gently on the mouth. But he wouldn’t answer tonight.
acknowledgments
I am continuously astounded by the wonderful, loving, and supportive people I have in my life-both personally and professionally. Over the years, the people I work with have become my dear friends, and the lines between life and work are happily blurred. I’ll take this opportunity, as I always do, to shower them all with praise and thanks:
My husband, Jeffrey, and our daughter, Ocean Rae, are simply everything. Every day they bring immeasurable amounts of love and laughter into my life. My husband is a true partner in every sense of the word, making our world safe and secure so that I can find the time and the mental space to write. He’s also hot. And he does the accounting. And, did I mention? He’s a great cook. I am floored by the wisdom, beauty, light, and sheer power my daughter displays. Watching her grow from a little bean into my budding rose is the greatest joy and pleasure of my life. She has made me a better person, and a better writer. And she totally cracks me up daily. Really, she is so cool-cooler than I can ever hope to be.
My agent, the brilliant and fabulous Elaine Markson, and her assistant, the incomparable Gary Johnson, hold my entire professional world together. Elaine has been my unflagging supporter and champion for more than ten years, and she is also my cherished friend. Gary keeps me sane (though I’m quite sure I don’t do the same for him) and keeps me laughing. I really can’t begin to list everything they do for me, day after day. But, as I’ve said before (and it only gets more true each year), I’d be lost without them.
I am indebted to my wonderful editor, Shaye Areheart, and to the truly stellar team at Crown: Maya Mavjee, Molly Stern, John Glusman, Jill Flaxman, Whitney Cookman, David Tran, Jacqui LeBow, Andy Augusto, Kira Walton, Patty Berg, Donna Passannante, Annsley Rosner, Sarah Breivogel, Linda Kaplan, Karin Schulze, Cindy Berman, Kate Kennedy, Domenica Alioto, and Christine Kopprasch. This is a long list, but believe me when I say that every single one of these people brings a unique and special talent to the team, and I am thankful to them all. Of course, I can never say enough good things about the amazing, top-notch sales force. They are on the front lines of an ultra-competitive 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.
As always, I must thank the people who so generously offered their expertise to fill in the gaps in my knowledge. David Steinberg, author of Hiking the Road to Ruins: Day Trips and Camping Adventures to Iron Mines, Old Military Sites, and Things Abandoned in the New York City Area… and Beyond (www.theroadtoruins.com), was an invaluable resource in my research about abandoned mines in the tri-state area. His wealth of knowledge helped inform and ground the fictional mines of The Hollows. The photos and descriptions found on www.ironminers.com fueled my imagination, and my conversations with Mike Hetman (aka Miner Mike) had me thinking about mines in a whole new way. Mike said, during one of our talks, that he thought of soil as a kind of slow-flowing liquid. This idea stayed with me and found its way into the narrative of this book. It should be noted that Mr. Hetman was in no way the inspiration for the character of Michael Holt. The character and all his various flaws, as well as his name, were on the page long before my research into mines began.
My thanks to Special Agent Paul Bouffard (Retired), who continues to be my source for all things legal and illegal, and his wonderful wife, Wendy, one of my earliest and most important readers. Thanks also to Debi McCreary for her very insightful early read. There’s a scene in this book that’s just for you, Debi.
Sitting down to write these acknowledgments every year reminds me that I am truly blessed by the people in my life. I can’t thank them enough for everything they do, but at least I can keep trying.
about the author
LISA UNGER is an award-winning New York Times, USA Today, and international bestselling author. Her novels have been published in more than twenty-six countries around the world.
She was born in New Haven, Connecticut (1970), but grew up in the Netherlands, England, and New Jersey. A graduate of the New School for Social Research, Lisa spent many years living and working in New York City. She then left a career in publicity to pursue her dream of becoming a full-time author. She now lives in Florida with her husband and daughter. She is at work on her next novel.
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