by Dani Atkins
In the back seat of the car, my father reached up to brush away a long strand of hair that had blown across my face.
“My beautiful daughter,” he said with a smile as the car pulled away from the house and began the short journey to the church.
The nurse made very little noise as she entered the small side room. Nevertheless, her entry startled the man seated beside the bed. He looked up in concern, but seeing she was alone, he relaxed a little.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked kindly, her hands busy straightening the bedcovers that never needed tidying.
“No, thank you,” he replied politely.
She looked at him sympathetically. He looked so frail and weak, as though he should be the one occupying the bed. He hadn’t missed a single day, holding vigil by her bedside. They said he wasn’t even going for his own treatments anymore. It was so heartbreaking for the nursing staff to see. They all felt so utterly useless.
She crossed over to the column of machinery located beside the bed, her hand reaching for a dial.
“I’ll turn this down for you, shall I? It can be a bit irritating.”
“No, please don’t,” pleaded the man brokenly. “I like to hear it. The louder the better. It proves she’s still with us.”
The nurse swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, but did as he requested and turned the dial up instead of down.
The sound of the loud persistent beeping of the life support alarm filled the room.
THE CAR SWEPT up to the entrance of the church. Waiting by the lych-gate was Sarah, resplendent in her deep red maid-of-honor dress. My dad offered me his hand as I climbed from the car. Sarah immediately swooped in and began to busy herself straightening out nonexistent creases from my dress. I looked down at my old friend, busy at my feet, a question in my eyes.
She reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Of course he’s here.”
I gave a small smile of relief.
“He’s waited his whole life for this moment, Rachel. Where else would he be?”
The nurse left them alone, understanding the man wanted every last moment of privacy. He looked down lovingly on his beloved daughter lying immobile in her hospital bed. He didn’t see the tubes and pipes linking her to the machine keeping her alive. He just saw his only child, lying lost in a sleep so deep she couldn’t wake up.
“Daddy’s here,” he murmured softly as tears fell down his cheeks.
He reached out to touch her face, scarcely noticing the white forked-lightning scar that ran from forehead to cheek. With trembling fingers he reached up to brush away a long strand of hair that had fallen across her face.
“My beautiful daughter,” he cried brokenly.
The nurse gave a discreet knock on the door before entering this time.
“I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Whittaker has just arrived. He’ll be here in about ten minutes or so.”
“So soon?” asked the man in panic.
It was all happening so fast; there was so little time left.
Alone in the room once more, he reached out for the small bottle he kept in the drawer of her nightstand. His fingers shook as he tried to undo the stopper, and several drops fell on the pillow beside her. He dabbed some of the distinctive aftershave on his hollow cheeks.
They’d told him a long time ago that she might still be able to hear and smell things, even from the depths of her coma. So he wore it always when he was here, hoping somehow the familiar fragrance would pierce through the veil and let her know that he was here with her. That she wasn’t alone.
“You’ve been so brave, my love,” he whispered close to her face. “I know you don’t want to leave me alone. But I’ll be all right.” He broke off then as the tears choked his words.
“I’m so proud of you,” he continued as the door handle turned and quietly the small room began to fill with people.
WE PAUSED IN the lobby of the church. From behind the wooden doors we could hear that a hush had fallen from within. The guests were waiting, necks craned toward the doorway for our arrival. Sarah fell into place behind me as my father took my arm and linked it with his. He leaned over and kissed my cheek, his aftershave and the fragrance from my bouquet intermingling in an intoxicating aroma.
“I’m so very proud of you.”
“I love you, Dad,” I told him, bringing the gossamer veil down over my face.
From inside the church the organ began a familiar strain. It was our cue. The doors swung open and we began our procession up the aisle.
I knew every eye was on me as we walked, but I saw no one. Just him. He was standing at the altar, his body turned toward me, waiting, as he had been for so long, like a prince in a fairy tale. His eyes were so full of love that it took my breath away.
I wanted to fly to his side; felt almost propelled there by a swell of love from the small assembly of family and friends. Of course I was glad they were here to be part of this day, but the only people that really mattered were those standing beside and behind me as I came to a halt next to the man I would share the rest of my days with.
Dr. Whittaker entered the room with two other doctors he had never seen before. The nurse slipped into the room behind them.
“Good morning, Mr. Wiltshire.”
The man had no voice to reply, just looked up at the doctor with red-rimmed eyes awash with misery.
The doctor approached the man and put his hand comfortingly upon his shoulder. From outside, an ambulance siren sounded, a continual noise that the man scarcely noticed anymore.
“You understand what we are doing today, Mr. Wiltshire? Tony?”
The man looked up at the doctor.
“And you’re really sure? There are no signs at all? Nothing?”
The doctor shook his head sadly. He turned to one of his colleagues and spoke in a low voice.
“Is the paperwork all in order?”
The other doctor gave a single nod.
“It’s just that sometimes I think she can hear what’s going on,” the man burst out. “And occasionally I feel sure she knows I’m here. I think she can smell my aftershave …”
Dr. Whittaker shook his head sadly. He had heard this from so many other distraught families, who wanted so desperately to have hope when all hope was gone.
“She’s given me a bottle of this every Christmas since she was thirteen years old,” the man explained to the nurse, whose professional composure was beginning to crumble at his words. “It was like our private little joke …” His voice trailed off.
I DON’T REMEMBER the ceremony. I’m sure it was beautiful. I vaguely heard the hymns, and I guess I must have said my “I do’s” in the right place, but really it was all lost to me in a wonderful dreamlike haze. All I could really remember was the look in Jimmy’s eyes as he slid the narrow golden band on my finger and gently lifted the veil from my face. A small cheer came from the pews behind us as he claimed my mouth in a tender kiss.
“Have you said your goodbyes?” asked the doctor kindly.
The man nodded, speech beyond him.
“Is there anyone here with you?” Dr. Whittaker asked in concern, worried not for the patient, for whom he could do nothing, but for her father.
“No, there’s no one,” the man said at last. “It’s just the two of us. She’s all I have in the world.”
From behind the doctors, the nurse silently began to cry.
Dr. Whittaker stepped over to the unit that was breathing for Rachel. That had been doing so every day since she had been brought into hospital some two months earlier.
“See you soon, my darling girl,” the man whispered in his daughter’s ear as the doctor flicked the switch behind him.
“It will take a moment,” Dr. Whittaker said quietly.
The father took hold of his child’s hand and squeezed hard to let her know he was with her.
WE TURNED TO walk back down the aisle. Joined together at last. Together forever. As we passed the
end of the pew where my father was sitting, he reached out and grasped my hand, squeezing it hard. I looked at him and smiled. I held on to his hand even as we began to walk away, maintaining the contact until only our fingertips were left touching.
“She’s gone,” the doctor said quietly into the man’s ear as the machine behind them confirmed his statement with a long, lamenting, continuous tone.
A LONG AND continuous note sounded from the church organ behind us, before tumbling into the lilting strains of one of my favorite love songs.
As we approached the entrance, the ushers flung open the doors. Unusually bright February sunshine sliced through the doorway, dazzling us with its intensity after the cool darkness of the church.
Jimmy and I exchanged a deep and meaningful look before walking together into the light.
For Ralph. Forever.
And of course for Luke, just because.
And mostly for Kimberley, who helped make this happen.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are many people I would like to thank for making a dream I have had for a very long time come true. First, I owe a huge debt of thanks to my incredible agent, Kate Burke, of Diane Banks Associates. Thank you, Kate, for loving Then and Always the way you do; for finding me and taking me on the first steps of an exciting journey into a whole new world.
I would also like to thank the wonderful team at Ballantine Books for their exceptionally warm welcome, their help and professionalism. A special note of thanks to Kara Cesare, executive editor extraordinaire, who championed this book from the beginning with such passion, enthusiasm, and wisdom, and who might possibly be more in love with Jimmy than Rachel is!
When writing Then and Always, I took the names of friends and colleagues and used them in a hybrid mash-up for my characters. Many of you didn’t even know I was doing this, so apologies if finding a version of your name left you feeling a little surprised. Thank you for lending them to me, Jimi Randall, Rachel Boyd, Matt Cooper, Cathy Johnson, Louise Boyd, Janet Boyd, John Kendall, Phil Wiltsher, Trev Chengabroyen, Jessica Sacco, Scott Tulloch, Dave Kelly, Sam Corcoran, Emily Frost, Laura Winter, Jamie Hunt, Max Isham, Joe Thorpe, Debbie Keyworth, Sheila Ellis, Kim Webb, Dee Whittock, Janet Brady, Ann MacRae, Megan Freeman, and, last but not least, Kizzy the cat.
There are few things more important in life than really good friends, and for no other reason than that, I would like to thank Hazel for always being there for me (even if, unfortunately, “there” now happens to be in Australia).
I would like to thank my wonderful family for simply being the three best people in the entire universe. Ralph, Kimberley, and Luke, I could not have done any of this without you.
And finally for my mum, Riv. I really wish you had been here to see all this happen for me, but I hope news of it has managed to reach you, wherever you are.
THEN
AND
ALWAYS
A NOVEL
DANI ATKINS
A READER’S GUIDE
A Conversation with
Michelle Richmond and Dani Atkins
Michelle Richmond is the bestselling author of The Year of Fog, No One You Know, Dream of the Blue Room, and the award-winning The Girl in the Fall-Away Dress. A native of Alabama’s Gulf Coast, she makes her home in Northern California. Her newest novel is Golden State.
Michelle Richmond: I can’t believe this is your first novel! The tension and pacing here are remarkable. Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?
Dani Atkins: Even as a child I was always scribbling away at short stories and poems, so I guess the dream was always there. As a young adult I wrote a few short stories and a couple of very lightweight romances. They weren’t published, and with good reason: They weren’t very good. Not that I realized that at the time, of course. There were huge gaps between my literary endeavors, where I wouldn’t write anything more challenging than the weekly shopping list. However, when my children were older I once again felt the urge to write. Then and Always was different from anything I had attempted before. When it was done I felt confident it was the best thing I’d ever written. (Of course, bearing in mind what had come before, some of my earlier shopping lists could also have claimed that title!)
MR: How did you get the inspiration for the novel?
DA: I’ve always enjoyed novels or films that keep you guessing and make you question what you believe to be true. I’m also a fan of thrillers and books with a supernatural twist. But most of all, I adore a good old-fashioned love story. Then and Always is a blend of all the genres I most enjoy reading.
MR: The novel’s ending is sure to cause discussion. Did you know how the novel was going to end when you started writing it?
DA: Yes, I did. From the moment I sat down and wrote Chapter 1 on the first page, I always knew how the final chapter of Then and Always would end. What I didn’t know—what I never seem to know when writing—is the journey the book will take me on before I get there.
MR: Did you have any hopes for what the reader might take away from the novel?
DA: I think if I had to choose just one message, it would be that you should make the most of every opportunity in life. Seize the day. Your whole world can be irrevocably changed in the blink of an eye, and if someone is important to you … you should tell them, because you never know when it might be too late. We’re not all lucky enough to get Rachel’s rather unique second chance.
MR: What are your writing habits?
DA: I truly don’t know if I can say I have been doing this long enough to have a normal writing routine or habits just yet. When I began, I had every good intention of making writing my nine-to-five job. I learned very quickly that it doesn’t work like that. In reality, I seem to achieve very little in the mornings and am much more productive in the mid- to late afternoon and evening. I do find that I get most of my ideas for plot and dialogue when I am walking our dog (a two-year-old border collie). He is benefitting enormously from my new routine. My husband, who now seems to have taken on all cooking duties—otherwise neither of us would eat an evening meal—sadly is not.
MR: Who are your favorite authors?
DA: I like many different genres and authors, with my personal favorites ranging from Stephen King (love him) to Sophie Kinsella (want to be her). I also enjoy many young adult titles, and am not ashamed to admit it, and loved the Between the Lines series by Tammara Webber, and the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I have recently “discovered” and am really enjoying reading the novels of Paige Toon.
MR: Are you working on something new? Can you share anything with us about your next project?
DA: My second novel is well under way. It is a powerful love story that is told from the point of view of Emma, the main character, and covers many issues, including friendship, family, loyalty, trust, and betrayal.
Questions and Topics for Discussion
1. Three accidents seem to shape this novel. To what extent is Rachel’s future affected by events outside her control?
2. Why do you think Rachel feels so responsible for the outcome of the restaurant accident? Do you think she would feel differently if Matt had died in Jimmy’s place?
3. Would you feel differently about Rachel if the book began as she woke up in the hospital? Why do you think the author chose to begin the novel where she did?
4. What did you think really happened when Jimmy showed up in Rachel’s hospital room? Did you question your logic throughout the novel?
5. The characters encounter mirrors and reflections at several points during the story. Do you think the idea of mirror images relates to the way the author organizes the novel?
6. Which of Rachel’s relationships do you think is most important to her in her personal life and in her career? Does that change over the course of the book?
7. How do you interpret the seeming intersection between fate and free will in this novel? Do you believe in fate? Or do you believe we control our own destinies?
8. Rachel h
as deep feelings for Jimmy even when she is with Matt. Do you think it’s possible to be in love with two people at the same time?
9. Despite their imperfections, did you feel any sympathy for Matt or Cathy by the end of the novel?
10. Were you surprised by the ending? Do you think there is more than one way to interpret the events at the end of the book?
11. Did you pick up on any of the specific clues in the novel that foreshadow the ending? What were some clues that you noticed?
12. Did you ever come to a crossroads in your life when you felt the choice you made impacted your life in unimaginable ways? If you could go back, would you choose differently and why?
Read on for an exclusive preview of
Dani Atkins’s next novel,
The Story of Us.
The End
Part One
You’d think a day when your whole life changes should be marked in some way. Bells should be ringing (well, I guess they would be later). Maybe there should be lightning bolts or a thunderclap or two? I looked through the window, but all I could see was a bright autumn morning, with a handful of russet leaves tossed by a breeze, floating past like amber confetti.
I could feel the nervous tension inside me flipping my stomach like a pancake. My hands were shaking so much that I was sure to make a mess of my makeup, which was lined up on my dressing table like surgical instruments in an operating theater. I gave a practice smile at my reflection. Not too bad. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. That was better. It was natural, of course, to feel this way. What woman wouldn’t feel nervous on a day like this? A drink might have helped, but the last thing I needed was to turn up at the church with the smell of alcohol on my breath. Although I knew how hilarious he would find that.
