Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(109)

This was another reason why Sophia was barely speaking to Hannah. The good girl. The reliable one, the fixer. The one who covered up and kept secrets. The one who ran in for the rescue. The one who still hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell her mother about Boots. She finally told the truth.

Sophia on the other hand is a locked box.

“Why a sperm donor? Why not tell us? Why keep this secret from us?” Hannah had wanted to know.

“Honestly?” said Sophia. “It’s none of your business, Hannah.”

“How can you say that?” she’d asked in her mother’s kitchen.

Sophia pulled her shoulders back. “I wanted children. Your father wasn’t able to give them to me. We made this choice and thought it was better that you never know. Clearly, we were right.”

“You were right to lie?” asked Hannah, looking down into her coffee cup.

“We gave you love, support, a home, a life of privilege. What more do you want from us, dear?”

Just the truth, Mom, she thought but didn’t say. After all, she couldn’t really throw any stones, could she?

“Who left those Origins tests?” Hannah asked that day.

“You really have to wonder?” she said. “It was your brother, of course. He discovered the truth years ago and this was his way of forcing us to face the fact that he knew. When he confronted us the first time, the technology wasn’t quite there. It was still unreliable. But now...there are no more secrets when it comes to genetics.”

Neither her mother or father had apologized for their choices, for their lies.

“I’ll never be sorry that I have you as my daughter, no matter how you came to us,” Leo had said. “The rest of it doesn’t matter. Michael is who he is. And no matter his crimes, he’s still our son.”

Now Hannah releases Cricket. “There’s always a place for you at our table, Crick. You know that.”

Joshua is gone. He disappeared from the hospital that night and no one has heard from him again. Apparently he was a Bitcoin millionaire, and has used that money to facilitate his escape. Cricket swears he ghosted her, that she hasn’t spoken to him. Hannah is not sure that she believes her friend.

They’ve barely seated themselves again when the doorbell rings another time.

“Okay,” says Bruce, glancing at her. “Did you invite someone else?”

Hannah nods. When she opens the door, she finds a very pregnant Liza, holding a pot of stunning white orchids. She and her baby miraculously survived that night, and she and Hannah are close for the first time since Liza met Mako. Though they are no long living together, Liza has decided to stand by Mako and see him through his trial. What happens after that, she isn’t certain. A DNA test has concluded that the baby is indeed Mako’s, a little boy due in January.

If Catrina’s goal was to cleanse the gene pool of her father’s DNA, she’d failed.

“I wasn’t sure if you meant it when you invited me,” she said, “I didn’t know if I should come. But here I am.”

“Of course I meant it,” says Hannah, bringing her inside with an arm around her shoulders. “We’re family.”

They were family. All of them linked through blood or circumstance or choice. Liza would give birth to Hannah’s nephew, Gigi’s cousin, her half brother’s child. And no matter what any of them had done, to themselves, to others, to each other, nothing would ever change that.

Bruce offers grace again for their newly arrived guests. “Family—it’s complicated. And yet here we all are, bound imperfectly but indelibly. We offer our gratitude for this bounty, however varied, however fraught. Love, no matter how hard our life’s journey, is always the light at the end of the tunnel.”

They eat.

Hannah looks at her husband, his strong profile, her daughter’s eyes. Some of the sadness she’s felt recedes. Whatever comes next, she’s proud of them, the family she’s made, the one she chose.



* * *





acknowledgments


I feel as if it should get easier, but somehow it gets harder every year to write these acknowledgments. Or maybe harder is not the word. Maybe it just feels more important to get it right. Because this is my—wait for it!—twentieth novel. And in this writing life, the amount and quality of people who contribute to the books, their publishing, my life in general (which is indivisible from my writing life most days) continue to grow. I am blessed beyond measure, and I am awed by the task of expressing my gratitude.

My husband, Jeffrey, and our daughter, Ocean Rae, are the rock-solid foundation on which my life is built. I wouldn’t be the person I am or the writer I am without them. Jeff, you’re the love of my life, my partner in crime, and my best and truest friend. Good job running “the corporation”—and taking care of us in every other way possible. Ocean, you are by far our greatest accomplishment and our deepest source of pride and joy; you’re a light bringer, a joy maker, our North Star. Our beloved labradoodle, Jak Jak, is my faithful writing buddy and foot warmer, and a constant reminder to finish up work so we can play.

When I turn in a first draft to my editor Erika Imranyi, the novel I give her represents the pinnacle of my efforts and ability—the literal best I can do. With wisdom, compassion, and insight she helps me find my way from that flawed version to the book that I hoped it would be. It’s a journey we take together. And I wish we could publish a draft with the editing notes in the margin—complete with all the back-and-forth, funny comments, and emoji! Meanwhile, the teams at HarperCollins, Harlequin, and Park Row are every author’s dream. I can’t say enough good things about the amazing teams in the US, Canada, and the UK, from the stalwart copy editors to the visionary art departments to the intrepid marketing and sales teams. Special thanks to Loriana Sacilotto, executive vice president and publisher, and Margaret Marbury, vice president of editorial, for their stellar leadership and unflagging passion. And much gratitude to Nicole Luongo, editorial assistant, and to Emer Flounders, publicist extraordinaire, for their tireless efforts on my behalf.