by Meg Donohue
“Did you figure out what you’ll call it?” Denny asked.
“Love Songs After Dark. It was the name of a show that I used to host. That show only played sappy love songs, but this one will be a mix of music. The idea is that, in a way, all songs are love songs—music connects people to each other, the way that love does, helping us all feel less alone. Nic says that I told her that, but I think that she actually told me.”
“She’s a smart kid,” Denny said. He hesitated. “You know, I think she’ll be ready to start jumping that horse this weekend.”
I looked over at Denny, perfectly at ease in the saddle, telling me that my fourteen-year-old daughter was ready to jump a horse that a couple of weeks earlier he’d told me was too dangerous for him to ride. There was so much about this world of horses that he and Nic loved that I simply did not understand. But I’d never backed away from the unknown before, and I had no intention of starting now.
ON SATURDAY, NIC opened the passenger door and ran toward the barn before I’d even fully stopped the car. I followed as quickly as I could, but when I stepped into the office, only Denny was there.
“She went to tack up Peach,” he said.
“Should we keep an eye on her? Is she safe?”
Denny put his arms around me. He kissed my neck, just below my ear. Then again, lower down my neck. I breathed out slowly. When we finally pulled ourselves away from each other, I followed him into the aisle.
At the far end of the barn, Nic was a slip of a girl moving around the huge, gleaming mare on the cross ties. The horse’s eyes flashed as Denny and I approached. She pinned back her ears and did an angry, clomping dance.
“We’re almost ready,” Nic said. “Just need to pick her hooves and get her tack on.”
The horse appeared to respond to the sound of Nic’s voice. She pawed at the floor again, but it seemed conciliatory. She was a beautiful horse—then again I thought that all horses were beautiful, and always had. But this horse had a special kind of power. It was hard not to admire her, and to admire the way that Nic clearly loved her. Nic’s fierce devotion impressed me. I shook my head, in awe of my daughter’s strength, her compassion, the goodness that had always been at her core and was now shining from her in new and remarkable ways.
Once Peach was tacked up, Nic led her to the outdoor ring. Denny and I watched from outside the ring as Nic climbed the mounting block. The moment she swung a leg over Peach, the horse immediately shot forward, but Nic seemed to have glued her seat right to that horse’s center of gravity and she didn’t shift from the spot the whole time I watched them. Peach only fought her those first few minutes; soon, Nic had her so distracted with gait and direction changes that Peach hardly had time to squeeze in a buck let alone an ear pin.
Denny looked over at me and grinned. “Not bad, huh?”
“Exceptional,” I said. It was the word Denny had used long ago to describe Nic.
“Yes,” he agreed.
We fell quiet then, watching. It was the kind of bright fall day that made you want to lift your face to the sky and close your eyes, but I couldn’t pull myself from the sight of Nic and Peach moving around the ring. I recognized the flying lead change, the beat of midair suspension and fresh spark of energy as Peach moved from her left lead to her right lead without changing her gait.
“I can’t take my eyes off her,” I said.
“Me neither,” said Denny, but when I glanced at him, he was looking at me.
Nic and Peach walked down the centerline of the ring toward us.
“Wow,” I said to her, shaking my head. “Nic.”
She grinned. “I’m ready, Mom. Can I do it?”
I wanted to pull her out of the saddle and wrap my arms around her. I wanted to take her home and tuck her into bed and read her a story. At the very least, I wanted to double-check the chinstrap of her helmet and make sure that it was as secure as it appeared.
I didn’t do any of that.
“Okay,” I told my daughter. “Just take it slow.”
She grinned and turned Peach away, walking her out to the rail. She looked back at me over her shoulder. “Where would the fun be in that?”
“I’m serious, Nic!” I called. “Start small,” I said to Denny.
“We’ll start over cross-rails,” he said, loud enough for Nic to hear. “And work our way up to verticals.”
“Cross-rails!” Nic repeated, indignant. She shook her head and moved Peach up into a trot, muttering something that sounded a lot like “fucking bullshit.” Damned if Peach didn’t kick out and smack the rail with her back hoof.
“There goes my teenager.” I only made a halfhearted attempt to sound apologetic—the truth was that part of me loved hearing Nic’s defiance. I could feel that angry fire still in my own belly. Everyone should feel it. It might mellow over time, but it should never be lost. Where would the fun be in that?
Denny chuckled. We watched Nic move Peach into a canter as they cut through the center of the ring. Denny ducked through the outside rails and into the ring. Before he moved to set up the jumps, he turned to me one last time.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “You’re ready?”
The way he held my gaze, his blue eyes suddenly serious, gave me the sense that we were talking about more than Nic jumping Peach.
Because he was right there and therefore that magnetic pull thing was happening between us, I reached out and drew him toward me. His lips tasted like chocolate. “I’m ready.”
Beyond him, Nic moved Peach up into a canter.
“Here we go,” he said.
Here we go.
Chapter 26
Peach hardly glanced at the cross-rails as they sailed over them. Nic hardly shifted her position. Those jumps were hardly jumps at all. When her mom finally agreed that Denny could raise the rails, Nic pumped her fist in the air and blew her mom a kiss.
But once Nic caught sight of the proper vertical rail Denny had set up, her heart began to race. Peach took notice, too, blowing air excitedly out of her nostrils, twisting and arching her neck to get a better look at the jump as they circled it.
“Nice and easy,” Denny called.
A pit formed in Nic’s belly. She was scared. A cold shiver of doubt ran through her.
You can do this, she told herself.
Peach heard her. The horse’s power gathered into Nic’s hands. They turned off the outside rail of the ring and cantered toward the jump. Nic counted Peach’s strides, each one a thundering beat.
One.
Two.
Three.
And then they were pushing off the ground, lifting up, soaring, suspended high above the jump for one exhilarating, shimmering sliver of life.
They reconnected with the earth and pounded forward, the exact beat picked up again. Peach’s stride was proud; Nic stroked her horse’s neck, sharing the feeling.
The doubt within Nic was gone now, its tremble replaced by a sensation that was quietly familiar: a delicious, irrepressible yearning for more.
Acknowledgments
I adore my editor, Emily Krump, and my agent, Elisabeth Weed. They are perceptive, generous, and upbeat book experts and I am so thankful for their hard work and guidance.
It is an honor and a joy to work with the talented team at William Morrow. I continue to be incredibly grateful for the support of Liate Stehlik and Jen Hart. Many thanks also to Kaitlyn Kennedy, Molly Waxman, Carolyn Bodkin, Serena Wang, Madeline Jaffe, Diahann Sturge, and Jena Karmali. Thank you to Mumtaz Mustafa for creating the perfect cover. Thank you also to Dana Murphy at The Book Group.
As ever, thank you to my parents, Carol Mager and James Donohue, and to the entire Donohue, Mager, Preuss, and Hudner families for their love and encouragement. Thank you also to the dear friends who fill my life with love, laughter, and the occasional cocktail: Jeannine Vender, Anna Lesovitz, Nancy Fazzinga, Leah Albright, Christina Greer, Cathie and Ryan Kaiser, Jeanette Perez and James Kim, Issabella Shields Grantham and Ted Gran
tham, and Liza Zassenhaus and Dave Lieberman. Jeanette Perez deserves a second shout-out and so much more for being an early reader of each of my books and, as my first editor, for guiding me along this incredible path.
Thank you to the delightful Charly Kayle for giving me a tour of the offices and studios of KOIT radio station in San Francisco and for answering my questions about life as a radio host. Any misrepresentations in this novel are my own.
I am grateful to the real people who inspired two of the plotlines in this book. In 2015, a remarkable high school senior named Konner Sauve launched a yearlong anonymous campaign to strengthen his school community. His story warmed my heart and helped me create Nic, who shares Konner’s compassionate spirit and borrows his creative use of Instagram. And I feel certain the seeds for G.G. were planted long ago when, alone in my room as a kid in Philadelphia, I sometimes found myself listening to Delilah After Dark, a radio show hosted by Delilah Rene Luke. The show was (and continues to be) part soap opera, part therapy session, and part corny music extravaganza. I can’t help but think my memory of it must have led me to G.G.’s story. While I’m on a roll here, I’ll confess that I brazenly borrowed the show name Love Songs After Dark from a radio show that aired years ago in San Francisco.
An enormous thank you to my husband, Phil Preuss, whose love is a gift.
Finally, a special thank you to my mother and to my three daughters, Finley, Avelyn, and Hayden, to whom this book is dedicated. I’m with G.G. on this one: there is magic in the mother-daughter bond. Thank you for making my life sparkle.
P.S.Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
About the author
* * *
Meet Meg Donohue
About the book
* * *
Gail Gideon Interviews Meg Donohue
Read on . . .
* * *
G. G.’s Playlist for Readers of Every Wild Heart
Meg Donohue’s Favorite Mother-Daughter Novels
Have You Read? More from Meg Donohue
About the author
Meet Meg Donohue
MEG DONOHUE is the USA Today bestselling author of How to Eat a Cupcake, All the Summer Girls, and Dog Crazy. She has an MFA in creative writing from Columbia University and a BA in comparative literature from Dartmouth College. Born and raised in Philadelphia, she now lives in San Francisco with her husband, three children, and dog.
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About the book
Gail Gideon Interviews Meg Donohue
G.G.: Hi, Meg. Thanks for calling in. I know we’re on the radio, but I can tell you’re looking great today.
Meg: Thank you.
G.G.: Now let’s talk about me. Where did I come from?
Meg: As I mentioned in the acknowledgments of this book, I think the seed for your character was probably first planted when I was a kid living in Philadelphia and listening on occasion to Delilah After Dark, a call-in radio show. Delilah had—still has—a very different shtick than you do, G.G.—
G.G.: I’m one of a kind.
Meg: Yes. But I suppose the stories of her callers, and the way they really seemed to need to hear Delilah’s advice, stuck with me all these years.
G.G.: So you made me a famous radio personality, and then you started the story right at a crossroads in my career. Why?
Meg: When I set out to write this book, I was thinking about how difficult it can be to understand the many aspects of who we are, and who we aspire to become, as individuals. This seems like it should be easy, but it’s not. Becoming ourselves is a journey.
When I was creating your character, G.G., I was thinking about the particular bumps along this journey for public figures dealing with the expectations and desires of fans. There is, for example, the inevitable backlash that a movie star receives if she dares to have interests and ambitions outside of acting (I’m looking at you, Gwyneth Paltrow). We prefer our entertainers to stay in their lane, as though we can only consume one slice of their personalities at a time.
I was thinking about the subject on a personal level as well. After each book I’ve written, I’ve received lovely emails from readers asking if I’m planning to write a sequel. And the truth is that after I wrote one “baking” book (How to Eat a Cupcake), I wasn’t all that interested in writing another “baking” book, sequel or not. Instead, I wrote a “summer” book (All the Summer Girls), and then I wasn’t interested in writing another “summer” book. Instead, I wrote a “dog” book (Dog Crazy), and then I wasn’t really interested in writing another dog book. At each pivot, I wondered if I was making the right decision. I’m so grateful to my readers for their support, and I hate the thought of letting them down. We are in this novel-publishing business together, the readers and I, and with each new book, I felt that I risked turning my back on a potentially growing audience for my work.
That said, the books I’ve written have a lot in common. They are all uplifting. They all have an element of humor.
G.G.: Do they, Meg? Are you sure about that?
Meg: Well, they might not be HA-HA funny, but . . . you know what, G.G., never mind. My point is that I like the stories I write to have a feel-good tone. But I like to think that if the day comes when I’m excited to explore another type of story, I will feel brave enough to try something new.
G.G.: And all of this relates to me because when the book opens I am in the midst of a very successful career, but I am ready for a change.
Meg: Yes. I was curious to see how these thoughts played out for someone with a really big level of fame and success. I wanted to make you hungry for adventure, but also truly devoted to your fans. And then of course I gave you a teenage daughter to think about, too.
G.G.: Let’s talk about Nic. She’s perfect, obviously.
Meg: I am also in the Nic Fan Club. I loved the idea of Nic as an unlikely hero. She’s a shy kid trapped in her own head. When she is suddenly able to shed her anxiety and share herself with the world, she wreaks havoc in the most bighearted way.
G.G.: Did you always envision her as a horseback rider?
Meg: Yes. I rode horses from elementary school through college, and taught riding lessons to kids for a time, so I was excited to pour some of my love for horses into a novel. I think my favorite scenes to write were the ones with Nic at the barn. I haven’t ridden in a long time, but that horse crazy girl is alive and kicking within me.
G.G.: What are some things that I, as your character, might not know about you, my creator?
Meg: I am a very forgiving driver and rarely experience road rage. The noises made by loud eaters torment me; I’ve learned that this sensitivity to certain sounds is called misophonia. I always set my alarm to an odd number, such as 6:31 AM. I believe that gratitude is the gateway to happiness. When that doesn’t work, I rely on dirty martinis. The earnestness of musicals makes me weep. I can’t stand it when—
G.G. (clearing throat loudly): Thanks, Meg. That’s . . . fascinating stuff. I’m really glad we could end this interview on such a high note.
Meg: You’re welcome.
Read on
G.G.’s Playlist for Readers of Every Wild Heart
1.Patti Smith, “Because the Night”
2.Velvet Underground, “Pale Blue Eyes”
3.Janis Joplin, “Piece of My Heart”
4.The Rolling Stones, “Sympathy for the Devil”
5.Pixies, “Wave of Mutilation”
6.Sonic Youth, “Kool Thing”
7.The Pretenders, “Middle of the Road”
8.Siouxsie and the Banshees, “Peek-A-Boo”
9.Blondie, “X Offender”
10.Garbage, “Special”
11.Liz Phair, “My Bionic Eyes”
12.Hole, “Celebrity Skin”
13.Luscious Jackson, “You and Me”
14.Sleater-Kinney, “Oh!”
15.PJ Harvey, “Good Fortune”
&n
bsp; 16.David Bowie, “Heroes”
17.Taylor Swift, “Welcome to New York”
Meg Donohue’s Favorite Mother-Daughter Novels
LITTLE WOMEN BY LOUISA MAY ALCOTT
The affectionate relationship between the four March sisters and their wise, beloved mother, Marmee, holds a special place in my heart.
MAINE BY J. COURTNEY SULLIVAN
A sweeping, compassionate saga of three generations of women sharing the family cottage on the coast of Maine.
MY NAME IS LUCY BARTON BY ELIZABETH STROUT
I count not put down this poignant, mysterious, and sneakily uplifting story of a complex mother-daughter relationship.
WHERE’D YOU GO, BERNADETTE BY MARIA SEMPLE
A fast-paced and funny tale of a quirky young girl’s quest to find her missing mother.
THE MOTHERS BY BRIT BENNETT
A moving and beautifully written debut novel exploring themes of motherhood, mothering, and the mother-less.
YOU WILL KNOW ME BY MEGAN ABBOTT
The darkest and most suspenseful entry to this list reveals just how far one woman’s love for her daughter will push her.
Have You Read? More from Meg Donohue
DOG CRAZY
As a pet bereavement counselor, Maggie Brennan uses a combination of empathy, insight, and humor to help patients cope with the anguish of losing their beloved four-legged friends. Though she has a gift for guiding others through difficult situations, Maggie has major troubles of her own that threaten the success of her counseling practice and her volunteer work with a dog rescue organization.
Everything changes when a distraught woman shows up at Maggie’s office and claims that her dog has been stolen. Searching the streets of San Francisco for the missing pooch, Maggie finds herself entangled in a mystery that forces her to finally face her biggest fear—and to open her heart to new love.
