by E. C. Diskin
Brooklyn remembered Martin’s lighthearted comment about his “bad ticker” and how stress will “kill ya.” She’d heard his pain, his anger at her dad for robbing him of the chance to know his own blood.
“I found him on the side of the road a few miles down from your house. He was having a heart attack. I left my car, jumped in, and got him to the hospital.”
Her eyes widened as the panic washed over her face.
“Really, I think he’ll be okay,” Darius said, patting her knee. “Gave me a good scare, but he’s got a great reason to live. He just found out he’s got a grandchild.”
Brooklyn smiled.
“Come on,” Darius said. “Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
BROOKLYN WAS HOLDING A BOUQUET of flowers when she walked into Martin’s hospital room.
“Well, hello, there.” Martin smiled. “Child, I hardly know what to say.”
She smiled. “Me either.”
“I guess that’s why you looked familiar.”
She walked a little closer to the bed.
“Yes, come in. Sit with me. I just can’t believe any of it.”
Brooklyn sat in the chair beside the bed. “You doing okay?”
“Never better,” he said with a smile. “I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something about you.”
Brooklyn sat a little taller.
“You have your grandmother’s eyes.”
“Really? I’d love to see a picture of her sometime.”
“She was a knockout. Just like you.”
Brooklyn couldn’t stop smiling, but she didn’t know what to say.
“How you dealin’ with all this? I can’t really imagine what you’re feeling. Part of me is so angry.”
Brooklyn broke eye contact, suddenly ashamed.
“Hey, none of this is on you. Of course not. And I am sorry he’s gone, Brooklyn.”
“What he did . . .” She shook her head. There were no words.
“He was your dad and I know you loved him. It’s a lot to process. Losing someone you love is hard, no matter how complicated those feelings. Don’t forget, I knew John Anderson. I knew the good side too.”
“He was a good father. That’s what’s so hard. But I spent so much of my life feeling like an outsider and trying to learn about where I was from. My mom gave me a picture of this girl from the Dominican Republic. She said the girl was my mom and that she died. I spent so much time thinking about her. But all this time, my mom was walking in and out of my life like a ghost.”
“Wish I’d known. I would have loved having a granddaughter all these years.”
“Me too. A grandfather, I mean.” Brooklyn leaned forward. “I’d like to have a grandfather.”
Martin smiled and extended his hand, palm up. “You got it.”
Brooklyn leaned forward and took his hand.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Wednesday, November 27
BROOKLYN PULLED UP TO HER childhood home at sunset. The sugar maple had just dropped its leaves, creating a spectacular red carpet on the gravel drive. It was still strange to think of someone else living there, but when Ginny and the kids came out the front door to greet her, it felt right.
Lyla and Mikey took off to catch frogs after a brief hello.
Ginny looked better. Those dark circles were gone. She was smiling. “Good flight?” she asked.
“Holidays, so crazy. Just glad to be home.”
They walked up and sat on the front porch swing.
“So how about you? Things okay? Kids seem happy.”
Ginny smiled. “Yeah, they love this place. Sometimes I’m amazed by what kids can handle.”
Brooklyn nodded, turning her focus from Ginny to the yard. The comment felt loaded. They’d all been through so much. “I’m really glad you changed your mind about selling.”
“Yeah. You were right. I didn’t think I could live here after everything that happened, but the kids love it. It’s gotten easier. Surprisingly, I think being here has helped. I don’t know what’ll happen when the divorce goes through, but at least we have this.”
“And you have me,” Brooklyn added. Ginny began to tear up again. She was still struggling with the guilt. Brooklyn slapped Ginny’s knee and smiled. Time to change topics. “Nervous about tomorrow?”
“Terrified. You?”
Brooklyn shook her head. “It’ll be good.” Simon was taking the kids for Thanksgiving, and she and Ginny were going to Martin’s for the holiday meal, along with Darius, who was arriving in the morning.
“I made pie,” Ginny said. “Three, actually.”
Brooklyn took her hand. “It’s gonna be fine. I think he’s glad you’re coming.”
Brooklyn and Darius had been communicating for months online, but she hadn’t seen him since they had gone to breakfast last May. It had been a surreal first meal, looking at this man she’d watched from afar, noticing for the first time that his ears were slightly asymmetrical and his otherwise green eyes had some hazel flecks, just like hers.
The waitress had showered him with compliments, excited to have a celebrity at her table. They’d both giggled nervously from the strangeness of the situation. At the end of the meal, he’d put his hand on hers. She’d looked down at the connection she never thought she’d know.
“This has been the greatest gift,” he said. “I came home to make a movie, and I got a daughter.”
They’d texted constantly, ever since.
“Well, come on inside,” Ginny finally said, grabbing Brooklyn’s suitcase.
Brooklyn followed her in, marveling at all the changes. Every room had been painted. Most of the old furniture was gone. Her dad’s study walls were now a moss green. The floor was covered with toys. It looked alive again.
The next morning Brooklyn took the car three miles out of town and up a hill to finally have the conversations she’d spent weeks having in her mind.
After pointing her toward a bluff, the caretaker reminded her to look for the large oak tree. She passed several grave markers and headstones and little fake flowers perched in front of them before finally spotting Bonnie and John Anderson. Mom and Dad. The only names she’d ever called them. Their markers were just a foot apart, much like the couple had been in life.
Brooklyn knelt in front of her mom’s marker first. She’d been unable to look at it when they buried her dad back in May, still trying to grasp the revelations about the clinic shooting. But it had now been almost a year since her mother’s death. She’d mourned her mom through the previous winter and spring, missing that voice and constant support, and then stewed in the lies and secrets for most of the summer. There had been too many days to count of crying and railing against her mother for what seemed selfish, cruel, and criminal. But her mind always circled back to the love.
The anger was exhausting. Finally, Brooklyn decided that maybe Mom had just been afraid, like Dad. And, maybe, the pain of her own loss, year after year after year, had built a villain to hate, a group for her to blame. Maybe she just didn’t want Brooklyn to feel abandoned. Maybe every misguided decision was about protecting others. Or maybe she was just desperate not to lose another baby.
“Things are happening,” Brooklyn said to the marker. “I’ve now done a movie and a small part in a commercial. And I didn’t even have to use my new celebrity connections,” she added, grinning.
Brooklyn liked to think that her mom could hear her, that she knew the secrets were out and even knew Brooklyn was going to spend the afternoon with Ginny, Darius, and Martin. She liked to think her mom would be glad to know her girls weren’t alone, that after all these years, they were finding their way back to each other.
Brooklyn turned her knees and focused on her dad’s grave.
“Hi,” she said. The last conversation they’d had had been a fight. She couldn’t let it be the last time they spoke.
“Did you hear?” she asked. “Ginny’s running the store. I don’t know
if it’s forever, but it’s working out for now, and the kids love sitting on the counter helping out and greeting customers, just like I used to do.”
Brooklyn sat in silence, as if to allow his response.
“She was pretty worried for a few weeks last summer that the sheriff wouldn’t believe her story about how that pastor died and what he did to Darius, but they ruled his death in the Garden an accident. Ginny said the church really didn’t want it to be labeled a suicide, but stories of his abuse multiplied after he died, so I’m guessing everyone was glad to resolve it quickly. And his cell phone records confirmed your call to him on Mother’s Day and his search of Darius’s address.
“We all know you didn’t do it.” She paused and added, “I don’t understand you. Either of you. But I still miss you.” She paused again. “I don’t believe what you believe, and I don’t think you made good decisions.” She let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of that statement. It was something they’d always said when she was a child: “Make good decisions.”
Ginny’s life might have looked very different had her parents not taken over. She would have moved to New York. Maybe they would have given Brooklyn up. Maybe not. Ginny would never have married Simon, though, never have turned to alcohol or Pastor Gary. But her kids were the product of all those desperate paths. Ginny loved Lyla and Mikey, no matter what train wreck they came from. She was done looking back.
Darius had told Brooklyn that the best audition of his early career, the one for Unbound, was when he’d performed a monologue he’d written about losing Ginny. What if he’d never lost her? What would his life look like now? It was impossible to know.
Brooklyn had finally realized she couldn’t look back anymore either. Her life would have turned out entirely different if Ginny had been in control of her own destiny. It might have been better. It might have been worse. Right now, on this day, Brooklyn was about to celebrate Thanksgiving with family. She’d gotten the role of her life because she’d walked into that callback convinced that, as an orphan from the Dominican Republic, it was meant to be.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say happy Thanksgiving.” She smiled. “You always said we needed to say what we’re grateful for on Thanksgiving. Well, I lost both my parents this year. It’s been a tough one,” she said, choking back tears. “But I’m not alone. And I know the truth about who I am and where I’m from. For that, I’m grateful.”
She slowly stood, wiped the tears away, and looked down the hill at Eden. Everyone had been damaged; everyone lost something. In some ways, all the revelations of the previous spring had felt as destructive as a bomb. But as she watched the fallen leaves on the grass, dancing in the breeze, getting swept down the hill while the sun rose higher in the sky, she remembered something Mom had said as they sat on the rocks in the Garden of the Gods, looking out at the forest that had once been a sea and the majestic rock formations that had once been sand.
“All that erosion,” she said, “but look what it left behind. Extraordinary.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With every finished book there have been people to thank, but never have I felt more indebted to my editors and readers than I do this time around. To the readers of my first chapters and that rough, stream-of-consciousness outline—my trusty Oak Park Novelists—fourteen years together, and it’s hard to imagine writing anything without having your feedback. Cynthia, Martha, Julia—your humor, support, and insights stay with me long after our meetings end and there’s nothing more fun than pondering potential twists, turns, and murders with you. To David Hale Smith, agent extraordinaire, and to my family, thank you again for all your notes, insights, and unwavering support. To my editors, Jessica Tribble and Caitlin Alexander—you were both as invested in this story as I was, you saw its potential, you challenged me and helped in countless ways. I’m excited by the finished product and so grateful for all that you both did to help me get here. And of course, to the whole team at Thomas & Mercer—Grace, Sara, Liz, Sarah, Bill, and everyone else who had a hand in this, thank you for your guidance, support, and enthusiasm. Writing a draft is a solitary endeavor, but getting it ready for publication is truly a team sport, and I feel lucky to be a part of such a talented team.
To Jimmy and Caroline, thank you for joining me on my research trip—wandering through the Shawnee Forest in ninety-degree heat, climbing rocks at the Garden of the Gods, and exploring the long and winding country roads of southern Illinois. To Jim, my biggest cheerleader, thank you for reading, supporting, encouraging, and counseling throughout the process.
And to my readers, as always, I thank you for being such an enthusiastic audience. You are the fuel that powers me through.
BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION IDEAS
Ginny had a relationship as a teen that seemed scandalous to some residents of Eden in the late 1990s. Do you think that would be true in 2019 where you live? What about in other parts of the country? Why or why not?
Do you view Ginny’s adult interactions with Pastor Gary as happening between equals or as a continuation of the power dynamic established when she was a teenager? Did the pastor’s actions toward Ginny as a teenager groom her toward later behavior and choices?
Ginny worries that secrets from her past will be exposed by Darius’s screenplay. What obligations should novels, movies, and TV shows have to the real people and events their stories are based on? Should Darius have obtained Ginny’s permission, for example? Does it make a difference that he’s also telling the story of his own life? Does it make a difference that he’s changed names and plans to market the movie as “inspired by” rather than “based on” a real story?
Both Bonnie and Ginny suffered multiple miscarriages. Discuss the choices Ginny made before Mikey and Lyla were born. Did the ends justify the means? What about Bonnie’s choices?
Do you think Ginny does “the next right thing” by finally telling Simon the truth? Why or why not? Do you think Ginny was obligated to tell him no matter what, or should her choice have depended on what she felt was best for her children?
Bonnie Anderson concealed her cancer diagnosis from Brooklyn until she was on her deathbed. Why do you think Bonnie made that choice? Do you agree with it? Brooklyn ultimately forgives her mom for that and other, bigger, lies. Would you be able to forgive a loved one after learning they’d committed similar acts?
John Anderson explains some of his actions by saying, “I was afraid.” What do you think he and Bonnie were afraid of? Do you agree that fear, their beliefs, or any other reasons justified their actions?
Were the Andersons good parents? To Ginny? To Brooklyn?
By the end of the novel, Brooklyn and Ginny’s relationship has fundamentally changed. How would you describe their new relationship? What do you think the future holds for them?
Sheriff Wilson observes that “justice is more than following evidence . . . it’s doing the right thing.” Once Donny takes over as sheriff, Wilson realizes that Donny has a stricter law-and-order view. Whose position do you agree with, and why? Do you think Wilson did the right thing, convincing the coroner to manipulate his report? Did he ensure that justice prevailed, or did he thwart justice?
Sheriff Wilson comes to realize some truths about himself, Eddie, and Eden that he seemed blind to before the events of the novel. Did his acknowledgment of these flaws change your feelings about the characters and the town? Do you believe ingrained prejudices can truly change? Under what circumstances, if any, should bad past behavior be forgiven?
Multiple characters in this novel struggle with addiction. Discuss the roles their addictions play in their actions and choices. Should their family members have offered more help? Less? Do you agree with Sheriff Wilson’s radical treatment plan for Eddie after he’s discovered at the hospital?
Brooklyn’s habit of asking her birth mom questions through found pennies was inspired by a story Diskin heard about a woman who kept finding dimes around her house after her father, a March of Dimes supporter, passed away. Have you ev
er communicated with deceased loved ones or felt their presence in similar ways?
Do you have any family secrets—either recent or generations old (that you can share)? Did the truth ever come out? If so, what were the repercussions?
If you’d like to see additional questions submitted by readers, add your own discussion idea, or share anything from a book club discussion, visit www.ecdiskin.com.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2017 Sandy Sameshima
E. C. Diskin is the author of the bestselling novels The Green Line, Broken Grace, and Depth of Lies. She lives outside Chicago with her family. Find out more about the author and her work at www.ecdiskin.com.