by Lisa Tucker
Outside the door to his room, Lucy was very surprised to see her daughter and some man asleep in each other’s arms on an ugly, waiting-room-style couch. The man was good-looking, but Lucy found herself thinking like a mother, wondering what he was doing touching her little girl. She also wished she could cover Dorothea with a blanket because she had to be cold in that tiny skirt.
Jimmy must be inside with Charles, Lucy thought, trying to stay calm enough to do this. She certainly didn’t want to face him alone.
But when she pushed the door open and went inside, her son wasn’t there. No one was there but Charles, and he was awake. He saw her as soon as she walked in, but still, she might have run the other way if he hadn’t recognized her, if he hadn’t said “Lucy” with so much feeling, it sounded like he was seeing a miracle.
She walked over to him and picked up his hand. It was an older person’s hand: thinner and more wrinkled, with spots of too much pigment and spots of too little. But it was still his hand, and she remembered what it felt like to hold it, to link their fingers together, to trust that they would have all the time in the world to stay like this.
She asked him if he was all right, and he said he was. Then she sat down in the chair next to his bed, and they started talking, awkwardly at first, but more easily when Lucy moved to the topic of Jimmy and Dorothea. Charles was able to tell her who the man was with their daughter. He also told her that he thought Dorothea was in love with this Stephen Spaulding.
“He’s a doctor,” Charles said. “A little troubled, but a good man from what I’ve seen.” He paused. “They told me he saved my life when my heart stopped halfway to Pueblo. He used a technique the cardiologists call a precordial thump. It involves strong blows to the chest, to start the heart again. Dr. Spaulding punched me in the chest so hard he broke my sternum.” Charles almost smiled. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”
“She’s too inexperienced to be serious about anyone,” Lucy said evenly.
“I tend to agree, but it’s not up to us.”
When Charles coughed, Lucy asked if he wanted some water. He said yes, and she poured him a cup from the blue pitcher on the bedside table, and then held it to his lips so he could drink.
“Do they know what’s causing this?” Lucy said, sitting back down, taking his hand again.
“They’re still running tests. The doctor said congestive heart failure, but they have to determine the cause to know what can be done.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Not now.” His voice grew gentle. “Not with you here, sweet.”
She thought about pulling away, but then he said, “I know you’re married. I’m sorry. I had no right to say that.”
She wondered how he knew. She almost said she loved Al very much, but she had a feeling he knew that too. His eyes were so sad, especially the right eye, the smaller, damaged one. She thought of telling him that she’d read the script about his father, but then she remembered he’d never wanted her to know. There was no point in putting him through it now.
They sat in silence for a while, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. Lucy was glad she’d come here, even before he told her that he wished more than anything he could go back and undo the terrible mistake he made when he left her.
She listened while he tried to explain why he’d never returned to California, but all the while she was thinking that no amount of explaining would make those years any easier. Nothing could give her back what she’d already lost.
“I know you’ll never be able to forgive me,” he finally said. “I’m only saying this so you’ll understand that I will never forgive myself.”
“Well, maybe you should.” Lucy couldn’t believe what she’d just said, but the bigger surprise was she really thought this. “Jimmy is having a lot of problems, and I think maybe we have to get past our mistakes, to help him. Dorothea too. She’s going to need us to be there for her as she tries to figure out how to live her own life.”
Charles didn’t respond, but he squeezed her hand.
“I wonder if she really is in love with this doctor. She never mentioned him.”
A moment later, Jimmy walked in, looking tousled and sleepy, until he saw Lucy sitting next to Charles. That seemed to wake him right up.
“Is everything all right?” he said, too quickly. Lucy thought he was probably figuring Charles had to be drawing his last breath for her to be there.
She smiled at her son. “Your father and I were just talking about Dorothea. Do you know anything about the man she’s seeing?”
“Oh,” he said. “You mean Stephen. I know he’s nice to Thea.” Jimmy yawned and came closer to them. The next thing Lucy knew he was reaching down, hugging his father. “I’ve missed you,” he said hoarsely. “Dammit, I’ve missed you, old man.”
Lucy took this as her cue to leave, but she told Charles she’d see him again later, and she knew it was true. Even if she didn’t want to see him, she’d have to see him for their sakes. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for her either. Maybe the more she saw him, the less powerful he would become, until he was just a man again. Maybe the past would become nothing more than the years that would have gone by anyway, and Dorothea and Jimmy not the babies she’d lost, but the adults they would have inevitably become.
When she left the room, Dorothea and Stephen weren’t on the couch anymore. She headed down the hall, thinking she would buy them breakfast and have a chance to get to know this man in Dorothea’s life. But when she got to the cafeteria, she found them sitting at a table in the corner, talking so intently that she decided not to interrupt. Before she turned back, she heard Stephen’s voice—serious, maybe a little sad, but unmistakably caring—as he took her daughter’s hand: “I have to tell you about a day.”
acknowledgments
Simon & Schuster continues to be a home for me, and for that I am deeply grateful to four women: Greer Hendricks, Judith Curr, Carolyn Reidy, and my dear friend, the goddess Lisa Keim. Thanks to everyone on the Atria team, especially Suzanne O’Neill, Nancy Tonik, Melissa Quinones, Angela Stamnes, and Justin Lorber. I am also enormously appreciative of the hardworking S&S sales force, with special thanks to all the wonderful people at the warehouse at Riverside, especially Barb Roach, Liz Monaghan, Gail Hitchcock and Karyn Basso; and all those who have graciously hosted me at the trade shows, especially my buddies Terry Warnick, Tim Hepp, and George Keating.
As always, my heartfelt thanks to Megan Underwood Beatie and Lynn Goldberg of Goldberg McDuffie Communications, for their enthusiastic support. To all the booksellers who have championed my novels and all the readers who have written me with their thoughts. To the friends and family who have stood by me during the writing of Once Upon a Day, including Sara Gordon, Alix Ravin, Jennifer Ammon, Mary Gay Shipley, Michaela Spampinato, Ed Ward, Elise Juska, Joe Drabyak, Kristin Callaghan, Elly Williams, Jim George, Sue Wanska, Ann Cahall; Jim, Jeff and Jamie Crotinger, and my best girls, Emily and Laurie Ward. To all the Tucker clan, especially Melladi, Patrick, and Leon O’Rourke; Andrea Hensley; Terry Jones, Jamie Freas, and Luke Pruden—I wish I could take care of you in this difficult time. In memoriam, Howard and Minnie Tucker; you will always be missed.
And finally, a huge hug of love and thanks to Melisse Shapiro, Kevin Howell, Marly Rusoff, and Scott and Miles Tucker. You have each meant more to this book and me than (my) words can say.
about the book
Nineteen years ago, a famous man disappeared from Los Angeles, taking his two children to a rocky, desolate corner of New Mexico, where he raised them in complete isolation in a utopian “Sanctuary.” Now, Dorothea, the man’s twenty-three-year-old daughter, is leaving this place for the first time in search of her missing brother. Dorothea’s search will turn into an odyssey of discovery, leading to the shocking truth about her family’s past and the terrifying events of the day that drove her father to flee L.A. in a desperate attempt to protect his children from a dangerous world. But Dorothea’s journey will also introdu
ce her to a doctor turned cabdriver who has suffered his own losses. Together, they have a chance to make a discovery of a different kind: that though a heart can be broken by the tragic events of a day, a day can also bring a new chance at love and a deeper understanding of life’s infinite possibilities.
questions for discussion
1. Charles Keenan is described differently by every character in the book: Lucy says he’s a “good person,” Janice calls him “controlling,” Jimmy pegs him as a “liar,” and in Dorothea’s eyes he can do no wrong. What do you think of Charles? Is he a sympathetic character?
2. What is the “angel moon” and how does it relate to Dorothea’s idea that “life is about what you believe as much as what seems to be reality”? At which points in the book are there disparities between an imagined world and the cold hard facts?
3. In all of their joint film projects, Charles casts Lucy in saintly roles such as Joan of Arc and Helena Lott. He makes the case in one interview that Lucy is a good match because, like the character, “Lucy is such a principled person.” Do you agree with this sentiment? In what ways do Charles’s filmmaking choices reflect his views on women?
4. Dorothea’s trip to St. Louis affords her the opportunity to encounter many things for the first time, most of which she approaches with a childlike wonder and fascination. Is this innocence or ignorance, and what do you make of it? What do you perceive as the author’s attitude toward pop culture?
5. Discuss your thoughts about Dorothea’s relationship with the older and world-weary Stephen. In what ways does it mirror young Lucy’s relationship to Charles? In what ways is it different? Discuss Lucy and Charles’s marriage. When did it start to deteriorate and why? What could they have done—if anything? What do you make of Lucy’s second marriage?
6. Why do you think Dorothea is so devoted to her father, even after she finds out the truth about the past? How is this similar to or different from Lucy’s devotion to Charles?
7. Following the loss of his wife and child, we learn that for Stephen Spaulding, “it was only in the cab, talking to strangers, that he seemed to be able to bring it all to life.” Later, Dorothea unveils her story to Stephen, Stephen reveals his secret to Charles, and eventually Charles to Stephen, despite knowing very little about each other. Do you think this compulsion to confess to strangers is a realistic phenomenon? Why is there such comfort in anonymous disclosure?
8. As the title Once Upon a Day suggests, there are several “days” in this story—some tragic, some “charming” as Dorothea would say—that serve as crucial turning points in the lives of the characters. Identify four to five of these days and discuss their significance. Why is Once Upon a Day a more appropriate title than Once Upon a Time? Do you agree that the story hinges on these pivotal days or do you think that what occurs in between these days is more interesting?
9. Throughout the entire book, Jimmy strays from Charles, questioning everything from his father’s identity, to his past, to Charles’s motivations for keeping the children sequestered at the Sanctuary. Why, then, when he discovers Charles’s secret shrine to Lucy and declares him “crazy” does Jimmy say he’s “never felt closer to him”? Are there any other moments of craziness or insanity in the book? If so, what do you think drives the characters to such extremes?
10. Read aloud the epigram from Don Quixote. Which character can you best imagine speaking these words? Does the same sort of nostalgia for a better time run throughout the book as well? What does the passage say about fate and human existence? Do these lines strike you differently now that you’ve read the book than when you first encountered them?
a conversation with the author
1. Do any of the characters in this book have a real-life inspiration? Please tell us how you arrived at these characters and how that led you to imagine their relationships.
Stephen was inspired by something that happened to me when I was in New York. I was on the way back to my hotel when the cabdriver and I struck up a conversation. He told me that he was from Romania and had immigrated a decade before, that he loved New York, that he had two children, a wife, and a house in Queens. But then his voice became quiet as he told me that he was having some problems since 9/11. The World Trade Center attack had changed him, he said, and he didn’t know what to do or how to change back. Then he looked in the rearview mirror and said flatly, “I’ve lost my hope.” I didn’t have a chance to say anything to him before we arrived at my hotel, where he picked up another fare and disappeared down the block. But I kept thinking about this man, wishing there was something I could have said. Wondering if there were any words powerful enough to help a person who’d lost his hope. All of this was still haunting me as I sat down and started writing the opening of the novel. As the story progressed, the other characters arrived the way they always do: as voices from another world with lots of secrets to tell me.
2. Music and film both play a significant role in this book and in your previous titles, The Song Reader and Shout Down the Moon. Were you listening to or watching anything while writing this story that you found particularly interesting? How do music and film factor into your own life?
Music is a big part of my life because I sing jazz and my husband is a keyboard player/composer. We’re always listening to something: jazz of course, but also classical, alternative, rap, you name it. That said, I can’t listen to music while I’m writing because it makes it too hard to hear the characters. I can’t watch as many movies while I’m writing either, though sometimes I do watch at the end of the day, because it can be a relief to lose myself in someone else’s story. Of all the movies mentioned in the book, the one I love most is They Might Be Giants. I saw it when I was a child and maybe fifteen times since; it’s one of my all-time favorites. The movie (based on a play) is about a man who thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes. The title comes from a reference to Don Quixote: “Of course [Quixote] carried it a bit too far. He thought that every windmill was a giant. That’s insane. But thinking that they might be …” Don Quixote is obviously important to Once Upon a Day—and to me; I used a quote in my first novel too: “Too much sanity may be madness. And maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be.” I love this.
3. You seem to have a mixture of reverence and criticism for Hollywood. Is this true?
I know Charles feels this way, but I didn’t agree with some of his criticisms. I enjoyed American Graffiti, for instance. It’s always a little strange to hear one of the characters saying something that is against your own views. I did admire his speech when he won his screenwriting award: “The true obscenity is accepting the cynical view of what we’re doing. Yes, movies are a business, but movies also represent the chance to communicate with the largest number of people in the history of the world … Let us be concerned about having something to say that enriches human life.” Charles takes himself seriously (to put it mildly), but he also takes film seriously, and I like that. I feel the same way about books. The ones I love most are about all the serious things: love, family, how we should live, and what life really means.
4. How does your own childhood compare to that of Dorothea and Jimmy’s? What are your parenting philosophies? Do you respect the Charles Keenan style, or do you take a more laissez-faire approach with your own son?
My childhood was about as different from Dorothea and Jimmy’s as it is possible to be. My son is a little closer; he calls me “OP Mom,” where OP stands for overprotective. I think wanting to keep your children safe is normal and understandable, though obviously Charles takes it too far. He’s so focused on protecting them that he completely fails to prepare them for living in the real world. I’ve tried to do that for my son, though I’m sure I’ve made mistakes. You’ll have to ask him about that part …
5. Your narrative structure is rather unconventional, moving seamlessly from telling the story in first person through Dorothea to third person omniscient. How did you decide which scenes needed to be told from inside Dorothea’s
head and which needed a more detached vantage point?
Since most of the book is told from either Stephen’s or Lucy’s third person point of view, you could say that they are the main characters of the novel. Charles and Jimmy don’t have their own chapters; Janice does but only as a commentator on Charles and Lucy, almost like the chorus in Greek plays. Which leaves Dorothea—the only first person narrator in the bunch. Initially, I wanted Dorothea to be third person like everyone else, but whenever I tried to change her to third, it didn’t work. I’m sure there’s a reason for this, but it felt like I didn’t decide, she did.
6. The therapist Tracey introduces a psychological term many readers may not have heard before, “symbolic violence.” Can you explain what this means and where you first heard it? Do you think it’s a real issue in our society?
I first heard of “symbolic violence” in film class, when I was an undergraduate at Penn. Unlike “real” violence, “symbolic” violence could include everything from verbal threats to violence in movies and on TV. Psychologically, it’s often used to intimidate and bully someone into submission. I think symbolic violence is a real issue in this society, of course, though I also understand Lucy’s reaction to what the psychologist says. Once you’ve experienced real violence, you know there’s a big difference between what Charles does by keeping her from having any movie roles and what truly horrible people do, like the men who attacked her.
7. Which character’s voice came most naturally to you as you were writing? Which one did you struggle with the most?
Stephen and Lucy came most naturally, probably because they’re the characters most like me. Both are from Missouri, where I grew up; both have a straightforward way of thinking that makes me feel at home. I struggled the most with Dorothea’s voice, since I had to be constantly aware of what she’d understand and what she wouldn’t, given her odd upbringing.
