I'd Give Anything(78)

“You never know,” I say to him, savoring the words. “What might happen next. You never know.”

I feel him smile.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” he says.

When the song ends, we all stand for a moment in the lucent pool of quiet the music has left behind, holding on, before we let go, and the talking, like a joyful engine, starts up again. Avery hands Dahlia to her fathers, and the baby, tiny planet with her own magic gravity, pulls us in.

Avery’s voice shouts, “Mom!”

She is mere outline, a sapling-slender silhouette with her arms wide open. And then I am rushing toward her, stripping down to my swimsuit as I move, shrugging off my cardigan, pulling my dress over my head, laughing, leaving a trail of clothes, like husks, behind me. As she sees me coming toward her, my daughter throws her arms above her head, victorious, and says, “Yes!”

We turn our bodies away from the light and noise and the people we love and toward the enormous, held-breath, star-scattered darkness. Afterward, Gray and Daniel will meet us down below, will wrap us in quilts and hand us our shoes and we’ll travel back together, up the trail, to where everyone is waiting. But for now, it’s just the two of us, balanced on the edge, our arms extended, our fingertips as close as they can be without touching.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I say.

“I can,” says Avery.

“Don’t look down,” I say.

“Never!” says Avery, laughing. “Never, ever.”

And we jump.





Acknowledgments




I am grateful to:

Jennifer Carlson, for fifteen years of being my agent, my friend, and my North Star; Jennifer Brehl, my extraordinary editor and friend, whose keen eyes, ears, and guidance distill and sharpen my storytelling and keep my metaphors from running amok;

the wonderful William Morrow team, especially Andrew DiCecco; Jennifer Hart; Tavia Kowalchuk; Nate Lanman; Andy LeCount, Carla Parker, Mary Beth Thomas, and the entire sales team; Virginia Stanley and the library marketing team; Pamela Barricklow; Jeanie Lee; Elsie Lyons; Fritz Metsch; and Liate Stehlik;

my friends, who lift me up and make my heart happy and with whom I could (and would and might) talk forever and ever, especially Karen Ballotta, Sherry Brilliant, Mark Caughey, Susan Davis, Taiasha Elmore, Dan Fertel, Susan Finizio, Linda Jaworski, Dawn Manley, Ciara O’Connell, Theresa Proud, and Kristina de los Santos;

Jim and Dawn Manley for allowing me to spend many hours and days writing this book in the tranquility of their beautiful shore house;

my father, Arturo de los Santos, for always, always being there for me, and my mother, Mary de los Santos, whose love surrounds me daily, even though she’s gone;

my dogs, Finny and Huxley, who sit on my lap while I write and who are, every single time I walk through the door, more thrilled to see me than anyone has ever been in my entire life;

my kids, Charles and Annabel Teague, in the light of whose wit and heart and gorgeousness I am blessed to live; and, as always, my love and my home, David Teague, to whom I’d give anything.