Stories We Never Told

by Sonja Yoerg

  “Right for the wrong reasons. What did they say?” Jackie cannot imagine the magnitude of their concern, their only remaining child in the nest of a killer. That she emerged unharmed must be their only solace.

  “Not very much. A combination of relief and scolding.” Nasira’s eyes well with tears. “They wanted to hear my voice, they said.”

  Jackie reaches for Nasira’s hand. “Of course they did.”

  She wipes away the tears streaking her face. “We’ve just been so broken. This only makes it worse. Infinitely worse.”

  “Does it have to, though? Maybe this is an opportunity. They clearly love you, Nasira. Imagine how afraid they have been, and how sad, the same as you.”

  Nasira is pensive. “I don’t know. How do I talk to them? They don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  “How did that happen? Because of what happened to your brother?”

  “Yes and no. It’s a long story.”

  Jackie smiles. “Feel like a walk?”

  Outside, the day is bright and windy, bending the tops of the pines on the slope below. Scraps of cloud hunt across the sky. They head toward town, and Nasira tells Jackie about her trip years ago to the refugee camp in Jordan, about the wounded children, about her father’s disappointment. About her shame. The story is a private window Nasira opens for her gingerly.

  When Nasira is finished, she stops in the path, but her gaze is ahead. “Maybe that’s what made me susceptible to Harlan. Unlike my father, he thought my new career path was worthy, noble. And he did boost my confidence.”

  “That makes sense.”

  Nasira turns to her. “But I still don’t know what to say to my parents.”

  “You’ve already been saying it. The fact that you’re worrying about it means you want them in your life. And the fact that you haven’t given up on your own goals shows your integrity means as much to you, maybe more.”

  Her expression is solemn. “I hope they don’t make me choose.”

  “I don’t think they will.”

  Nasira gives her a half smile. “Maybe I’ll take a few days off to go home. Try to explain everything to them.”

  Jackie pulls her into a hug. “As long as you need. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  While Nasira is away, Jackie falls into a routine much like the one she adopted after Harlan and before Miles, spending her free time chatting with Grace, reading and cooking at home, or on the river when the weather allows. Nasira calls after four days to say she and her parents are talking. She’s been tempted to flee the pain of peeling back the scarred layers of regret and disappointment and failure in hopes of finding the generosity of forgiveness underneath. “But we hurt in much the same way,” she says, and asks for more time, something the family has not enjoyed for too many years. “As long as you need,” Jackie says.

  Although Jackie is wary of isolating herself, she does allow for quiet moments, while rowing or at home, to own her broken heart. How else will it heal? She told Miles she doesn’t want to talk to him for now and can’t predict how long it will be until she does. She misses him, sometimes with a force that surprises her, but she doesn’t want to muddle those feelings with his. This isn’t a joint activity, at least not yet.

  Miles and Antonio moved into a rental two Metro stops north of the home Miles and Jackie used to share; Miles moved out his belongings during days while Jackie was at work, but Antonio left some things behind, which is fine with Jackie. She texts with Antonio frequently, and they’ve shared a few meals in town or at her house. She doesn’t mind news of Miles if that’s what Antonio wants to share. For all the disruption, Antonio seems steadier than he’s been in a long time, perhaps since she’s known him. He has a girlfriend, Isobel, and brought her to Jackie’s one evening. Few things have pleased her as much recently as that trust.

  Jackie now blocks out time in her schedule for her friends. There’s Nasira, of course, and Ursula, whose bluntness she’s learned to value. And Vince, who, in helping nab Harlan, came to know more about her than her own mother. She trusts him implicitly. IT guys are like lawyers, right? Find a good one and keep him close. Joking aside, he’s taught her how to play pool, of all things, and not to worry as much. Once a microcosm of two with Harlan, Jackie now cannot envisage her life within such narrow bounds.

  In early March, a burst of warm weather explodes from the drear of winter. Jackie walks to work three days in a row, the morning sun warm on her shoulders. Tree buds swell and the air contains a sweetness. Outside Wolf Hall, a cluster of daffodils pushes through the earth, first one, the next day ten, the next day dozens, their closed buds nodding on lengthening stems.

  Thursday afternoon, she returns to the lab from a graduate seminar, meets with Tate about her upcoming comprehensive exams, then opens her in-box for the first time since 8:00 a.m. There are two dozen emails, but one from Deirdre Calhoun catches her eye. The subject line reads “Grant Application.” Jackie clicks it open, her smile widening as she reads.

  “The board is pleased to inform you . . . fully funded . . . impressive interim results.”

  Jackie sends a silent thanks to Vince and to his friend Paco, who conducted the audit. It spanned four weeks and uncovered no irregularities beyond those Vince discovered, so Jackie had every reason to be optimistic about returning to the good graces of the Autism America foundation. But optimism is one thing, and a guarantee of continued funding for her life’s work another. Calhoun’s email is hard proof that her reputation has been restored.

  Jackie reads the email again to ensure she wasn’t hallucinating and hurries to the shared office. Kyle, Tate, Nasira, and Rhiannon turn toward her. “We got the grant!”

  They erupt in a flurry of cheers, hugs, and fist bumps.

  Nasira rushes over to embrace Jackie. “The best news.”

  “The absolute best.” Jackie can’t stop smiling. “We need to celebrate—all of us, plus Gretchen and Reese and Vince and Paco. Does tonight work for you guys?”

  The fine weather holds through the weekend. Sunday morning Jackie rows along the Potomac, the water rippling away from her oars in silken folds. The river moves under her, broad and steady. She skims the surface, her speed a celebration of precision, touch, reach, and strength. If she can hold on to this, she might reclaim herself. Her abilities harbor an abundance of raw material for success, the real kind, the kind suffused with love and with joy. Rowing, she thinks, isn’t easier when you love it, but loving it does make the effort worthwhile. The same, too, with her work, and with the trickiest of all undertakings, the ones in which you give your heart to other people.

  She tires at last and heads toward the boathouse. Jackie slips alongside the dock, holds the ends of both oars in one hand, and steps out of the shell. She squats to detach the oars, lays them behind her on the dock, and takes hold of the gunwales to lift the shell out of the water.

  “Hi, Jackie. Want a hand with that?” Antonio approaches her, dressed for sailing in a windbreaker and a baseball cap, cheeks red from the sun and wind.

  “Hi, Antonio. I’ve got it, thanks.” She stands up and glances past him at Miles, who is hanging back, giving her space, she supposes. She waves to him, and he lifts a hand in return. “You guys sailing?”

  “Just finished. We saw you coming in.” He smiles at her. “You were cruising.”

  She gestures to the river, the sky. “It’s a gorgeous day. Makes it easier.”

  “I was thinking of giving it a try. Rowing.” He shuffles his feet. “I was just talking about it with my dad.”

  Jackie looks at Miles again, who is facing upriver, his cap pushed back from his forehead. She feels a pang but isn’t sure what it is. Missing him is her best guess—him, not the marriage.

  “Here.” She hands Antonio the oars. “Your first demo: how to pick up the shell.” She hoists the shell onto her shoulder.

  As they near the spot where Miles is waiting, Antonio hands her the oars. “I gotta run. I’m late for meeting Isobel.”

  �
��Oh, okay. Text me when you want to get together.” She watches him go, wondering if he is really interested in rowing or just saw the chance to set up an encounter with his father. It doesn’t matter; while she might not have chosen this moment to talk to Miles, neither does she feel compelled to avoid him.

  He smiles at her, hands in his pockets. “Hi, Jackie. Good row?”

  “The best.” She sees he’s waiting for her cue. “Let me get rid of this and we can talk. If you want.”

  “I do.”

  A few minutes later they are sitting on a bench facing the river. The white sails of the dinghies and small yachts glint in the sun. At the shore, several people wearing life vests huddle around an instructor demonstrating how to maneuver a kayak.

  Jackie pulls a water bottle from her backpack and takes a long drink. Sitting beside Miles is both familiar and uncomfortable; she knows so little about what Miles has been going through, but perhaps that has been true for a very long time. She opts to launch the conversation with their most obvious common interest. “Antonio seems really well.”

  Miles nods. “We’ve had a lot more time together. When he can, he comes along on scouting trips, but I’ve also cut back on traveling.” He doesn’t meet her gaze, and she knows he is aware that only months ago he refused to adjust his schedule to make room for a child. Jackie lets it slide; the deeper meaning of that conversation has since become clear. Miles continues: “Antonio’s been helping me work through things.”

  “That’s a big step—for both of you.”

  “I think he’s relieved he’s not the only one with significant challenges to face. He said I could borrow his freak flag.” He shrugs, smiling.

  “Cute. But I don’t think either of you are freaks.”

  “I was only joking.”

  “I know. But like all jokes, the center of it hits the truth.” She turns toward him and holds his gaze so he cannot miss her intention. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with you, Miles.”

  “Thanks, Jackie. I wish I’d had more confidence in that.” His shoulders drop an inch. “I’d never appreciated the sort of message I was sending Antonio by being less than honest about who I am. I told myself it was better all around, but that was just another lie.”

  Jackie sighs. “Sometimes I don’t think we can survive without lying. I mean, we all have to let certain things go, smooth the way forward, or just get through the night. It’s hard to know when to stop.” Miles is staring at her, his brow furrowed. “All those years with Harlan, I lied to myself about so many things, but I kept going, thinking it would resolve, that the knot would untangle itself. I thought he would change if I could just hang on and be who he wanted me to be a little longer.”

  “I can see that. But what about with us?”

  “I’m still figuring it out. Maybe you shouldn’t have married me, knowing you liked men, but maybe I shouldn’t have married you, knowing that I didn’t know what the hell I wanted.”

  Miles grins and a spark lights in his eyes. “You see? Your penetrating insight is irresistible.”

  Jackie laughs, and when Miles laughs with her, she cannot stop. They are doubled over, not knowing what they are laughing about, except that it feels wonderful.

  Miles sits up, wipes his eyes. “I do love you, Jackie.”

  “I know. And me you.”

  As the sun sets that evening, Jackie wraps herself in a shawl and carries a glass of wine outside to her deck. She sits on the steps to the yard and calls Grace. After catching up on her sister’s news, Jackie tells her about her conversation with Miles.

  “I always liked the guy,” Grace says. “I mean, that was rather a large oops he made with Harlan, but I can like him again now, right?”

  “Yes. Like him as much as you want. I plan to.”

  They talk about plans to get together over Jackie’s spring break, then say goodbye.

  Jackie rewraps the shawl and sips her wine. The sun has dipped below the tree line, drawing the shadows long, chilling the air. But today’s warmth, the unexpected beauty of it, still fills her and touches her memory of Grace’s wedding, the magic of it.

  When Jackie stood at the edge of that starlit field, she was sure she could never have what Grace and Hector had. Like the stars themselves, it was beyond her reach. She had her relationship with Harlan, what she could make of it, and her career. There was nothing more for her, certainly nothing touching the joyousness radiating from the wedding scene behind her. She would be a part of Grace and Hector’s life, but she could never be of it. It is one thing to love, another to trust. That night, and on every night of her life, Jackie’s heart was full of love, but she lacked the ability to share it completely. She didn’t dare.

  A mourning dove calls from the oak tree above Jackie’s deck, the notes haunting and pure and wide enough to fill the world. The dove calls again, and Jackie’s eyes fill with tears.

  She was mistaken.

  What Grace and Hector have is trust in the beauty of life. That’s it. Their trust is so strong that everything they touch becomes beautiful, a wish that creates its own reality. Of course, they aren’t immune to the ugly or unfortunate things that happen to everyone, but because of their steadfast faith in the beauty of life, the misfortune will also be beautiful in its pain, in its loss, in its grief, in its humanity. If you fall in love with life itself, happiness is yours for as long as you live.

  The best thing about this trust? Hard as it may be to find, and to hold on to, anyone can have it.

  Even Jackie.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My first and largest debt of gratitude goes to my agent, Maria Carvainis, for her wisdom, patience, and steely support, and to my editor, Chris Werner, for believing in my stories and turning them into books. If that sounds easy, it’s not. Thanks to everyone at Lake Union Publishing who helped create and promote this book; your work is invaluable. Thanks also to Tiffany Yates Martin, who wields a red pen like a scalpel and, when necessary, like a cudgel, and does so with humor and style.

  Special thanks to Karyn Cossello and Michael Renner for advice on data management and security and to Steve Crowder on police procedure. Any errors are mine.

  Heartfelt thanks to Kate Moretti, Heather Webb, and Holly Robinson for advice, hand-holding, laughs, and critical reads and to all my sisters in the Tall Poppy Writers for their friendship, insights, and support. To my daughters, Rebecca and Rachel Frank, thank you for reading, for cheering me on, and for being generally fabulous. Love to all of you.

  Thanks to the readers, reviewers, bloggers, and Instagrammers whose love for books and reading makes writing worthwhile. I appreciate every gesture you make to express your support of authors and books, and when it happens to be me or one of my books, you make my day.

  Love and gratitude to Richard, my husband and emotional support animal. Finding you proves I’m lucky beyond measure.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  Jealousy is a powerful emotion with potential for hurt or even destruction. Could you sympathize with Jackie’s jealousy of Nasira? How did Jackie’s jealousy play into Harlan’s hands? If you have experienced intense jealousy, or been the target of it, how did you cope with it?

  Jackie and Harlan become friends after their breakup, in part because they are colleagues. When Jackie starts dating Miles, the men develop a friendship. Are friendships between exes tenable? What does it take to be able to move from intimacy to friendship?

  Even when Harlan was in charge of the narrative, he didn’t tip his hand right away. When did you begin to suspect he was out to get Jackie? Did you foresee the extent of his vengefulness? Do you think Jackie should’ve suspected him sooner?

  Grace is more grounded and content than her sister, Jackie. Is this a personality difference or the result of being younger and not experiencing their parents’ conflict in the same way? What role do you think having a career outside the home plays in the difference between the sisters’ lives?

  Nasira is the first of the four main chara
cters to tell her story. How did it change the way you viewed her, if at all? How did her estrangement from her parents affect her susceptibility to Harlan?

  What did you think of Jackie and Miles’s marriage early in the book? Were you worried for them, or did you suspect something else was amiss? At the end, do you expect them to stay friends?

  Jackie’s mother, Cheryl, is entrenched in the past, but Jackie finds a way to respect and even admire her. Did this surprise you? How does Cheryl’s status as a working mother factor in this, and, more generally, what do you think about changing relationships between mothers and daughters as women struggle to “have it all”?

  Imagine if Jackie had remained content with her circumscribed relationship with Harlan, never asking for more. Do you think the relationship would have lasted? Why or why not? Harlan claimed he loved her more than anyone. What does that mean, given what you know about him?

  Stepparenting is never easy. What did you think of Jackie’s role as Antonio’s stepmom? Did Miles ask too much of her? Not enough? Jackie wondered whether Antonio’s knowledge of his father’s sexuality might have been a barrier in the stepmom-stepson relationship; what’s your take?

  The stories reveal salient background information about the characters that reframe how you think about them. Behind the stories themselves is the idea that we all hold part of ourselves in reserve and thereby resist the ability of others to fully understand us. Is this true? Does everyone have a story they’ve never told?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2017 Tamara Hattersley Photography

  Sonja Yoerg is the Washington Post bestselling author of the novels House Broken, The Middle of Somewhere, All the Best People, and True Places. Sonja grew up in Stowe, Vermont, where she financed her college education by waitressing at the Trapp Family Lodge. She went on to earn a PhD in biological psychology from the University of California, Berkeley, and wrote a nonfiction book about animal intelligence, Clever as a Fox, before deciding it was more fun to make things up. Sonja lives with her husband in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. For more information, visit www.sonjayoerg.com.