Somewhere Out There(112)

Half an hour later, I had filled a brown cardboard shipping box with the stack of notebooks. Then came the hardest part—writing one final note to my girls. I grabbed a blank sheet of paper from the printer in the den, then returned to the kitchen, where I sat back down at the table and began to write.

Dear Brooke and Natalie,

I know I hurt you both, and for that, I can never say “I’m sorry” enough. I spent so many years trying to convince myself that you were better off without me that I don’t know how to believe anything else is true. If I were a different person, I might be able to handle the weight of your pain, but as it turns out, I’ve had a hard enough time managing my own. I don’t offer this as an excuse, only as explanation for my inability to become the addition to your lives that you might have hoped.

What I hope now is that the contents of this box give you at least some of what you came looking for from me. I hope they give you some answers, some important pieces in the puzzle of your history. I hope you get a sense of the scared, messed-up girl I was when I had you and just how much I missed and loved you over the years. No matter the distance between us, the two of you will always be the biggest part of my heart.

I signed my name, and then sealed up the box, resting my palms flat upon it as though I were granting it a blessing. I glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, noting that I still had plenty of time to get to the post office. All I needed was Natalie’s address from the card on the fridge, along with my wallet and my car keys, and I’d be on my way. I’d take the short drive downtown and send the package off. I’d say a little prayer to wish it well—to wish my daughters happiness and peace—and I’d then come home to my husband, to the life I’d built in spite of my many messy but necessary mistakes. Mistakes, as Evan had said, that helped shape me. And while there was no guarantee I wouldn’t make more as time went on, one thing was clear—one thing I knew somewhere down deep in the cells of my body. Whether or not my daughters forgave me, sending them this package might be the only way for me to forgive myself. It was time for me to move on.

I’d finally found a way to let go of the past.





Acknowledgments


As so often happens in my writing life, the idea for this story began in the smallest of ways, after my cousin told me how one of the young boys he was fostering reacted upon seeing a fully stocked pantry in their home. This profound image stuck with me, and without my knowing, a seed was planted and this book began to grow. So first and foremost, I must thank Shane Minden, a man with more patience and heart than anyone I’ve ever known, for the act of sharing a raw, and too often unheard, truth.

Thanks also to the fabulous and formidable Victoria Sanders, my agent and dear friend, for knowing when to comfort me and when to kick me in the ass. Her loyal support and fierce savvy is unwavering, as is her team’s—Diane Dickensheid, Bernadette Baker-Baughman, Chris Kepner, and Tony Gabriel. (I know that the toffee-crack I make and send your way isn’t the only reason you work so hard on my behalf, but I tell myself that it helps.)

There are few words I can find to express the depth of my gratitude for the relationship I have with my developmental editor, Greer Hendricks. As always, her wisdom and understanding of what my heart was trying to say gave me perfect insight on how to whip this story into shape. She is—to use an idiom she surely would make me strike from the page—one in a million.

Thanks to Sarah Cantin, another gifted editor with whom I have the privilege to work, for her unstoppable enthusiasm and advocacy for my books. Her thoughtful expertise helped put a finished polish on these pages, and I am so very lucky to have her on my side.

Thanks to the amazing professionals at Atria Books—Judith Curr, Suzanne Donahue, Paul Olsewski, Lisa Sciambra, Andrea Smith, Arielle Kane, Jin Yu, Haley Weaver, and Isolde Sauer. This list could go on and on. To every member of the sales team, the art department (especially Janet Perr for designing this beautiful cover!), and marketing—to anyone who touches my books—I cannot tell you how deeply I appreciate you all.

How different my life as a writer became with the dawn of social media! The wonderful people I have met there, the fun we have, the lovely notes you have written me . . . what an amazing sense of community, all founded on the love of the books. I wish I could hug every single one of you for your enthusiasm and support.

Thanks to my best friend, Tina Skilton, for always listening, and with a shrewd eye, helping me to brainstorm my way out of the rough spots. Thanks to my tribe: Kristie Miller, Jenifer Groh, Sally Cote, Sherrie Stockland, Loretta Bellman, Rachael Brownell, and, honestly, too many others to name. You know who you are, and you know how much I need and love you all.

Thanks to my family: my mother, Claudia Weisz, for always listening, my goofy and brilliant children, Scarlett, Miles, and my bonus daughter, Anna, for making me laugh. And finally, thanks to Stephan, not for being perfect, but for being the perfect one for me.