James’s eyes lit and Lucy felt her face redden. “You’re right. I did.” He pulled out her chair.
Their server introduced himself and then left them with menus and silence. James spoke first. “What shall we eat?”
Lucy tucked her lips in, not wanting to hope. “I’m thinking the sea bass, and if I know you, you’re eyeing the filet.”
James didn’t lift his eyes from the menu. “That sounds good, but I was actually considering the scallops.”
The word Liar! was on the tip of Lucy’s tongue, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t make fun of such a delicious olive-branch offering. Scallops were Lucy’s favorite, never James’s.
She peeked at him again, but he was studying the menu as if it was the most interesting read. She wanted to break through this dance, whatever it was, and find clarity. Find definition. This seesaw uncertainty was going to break her and had been threatening to since he asked her to dinner.
She opened her mouth to ask. She closed it. She opened it again and watched as his eyes trailed down the menu. He smiled at something he read. Pulled pork? His eyes trailed farther and pinched at something else. Beets? He reached the bottom and raised his brows. Crème brûlée? Chocolate cake?
And then it struck her—he was calm. The man who always sought clarity and rubbed his nose raw when he didn’t have it, was at peace. And that meant one of two things—either he’d fundamentally changed, as she seemed to be doing daily, or there was clarity right here and now.
He looked up. “Have you decided yet?”
She felt herself calm. “I have. I know what I want.” He waited. “I’ll order the scallops. You?”
“The filet.” James laid down his menu. “Tell me about the book business.”
Lucy told him about buying the business and forcing Sid to fire her, making confessional phone calls, returning books, selling books, offering replacements for other books—and, above all, being so thankful that no one had ever mentioned Sid’s name or questioned his integrity.
“And what about you? Are you enjoying the India work?”
“India? I wasn’t in India. I was in Myanmar doing advance work for a water filtration project. Didn’t Grams tell you?”
“She said you were out of town. I assumed it was the India project.”
“Now she decides to zip it?” James pulled his fingers across his lips. “No, the firm I’m with has a project in Myanmar and another in Liberia right now.”
“Wait? What? The firm you’re with? Aren’t you with the same firm?”
James laid down his menu. “Dawkins fired me, Lucy. I got the e-mail while we were in London. I can’t believe you didn’t know.” At Lucy’s head shake, he continued. “It’s okay, though. A couple other partners were furious with him and made some calls on my behalf. Within a few days, I got an offer at McDermott, Will and Emery. Last week I was getting up to speed in Myanmar.”
“I’m completely stunned.”
James told her more and Lucy felt herself relaxing—and no longer worrying about clarity at all. Whatever this was and whatever it would become was enough.
“Lucy?” When she glanced up from her dessert, she found James leaning forward, his face pinched. “I need to say something. In Haworth, you asked me a question and I gave you an incomplete answer, and when I tried to tell you when you called from London, you were worried about Sid and arriving at the airport and . . . What?”
Lucy was smiling. “You sound like me. Go on. I’m wondering how long you’ll make this sentence.”
It worked. James’s face relaxed in an animated smile. “Very funny.” He leaned back. “You asked if I believed in love at first sight and I said no.”
Lucy’s heart dropped and the whole evening became confused. “I remember.”
“It wasn’t a full answer and I’ve been thinking about it . . . While I don’t believe in love at first sight, because I think it takes more work than that, I do believe that one soul can speak to another and find an inexplicably deep connection over a short period of time, unimaginably short, and know that it will never forget that soul, that moment, or the light it emits forever. That I believe in. I didn’t tell you that . . . And I wanted you to know.”
Lucy felt her mouth go dry. She pursed her lips, afraid to speak, and her images from that day returned. Cathy called out at the window and Heathcliff reached for her. Jane stepped back to the tree as Rochester clasped her close and kissed her. Dillon made his way back to Haworth and grew old at Bette’s side.
And James? Lucy desperately wanted to know. She licked her lips, willing her voice to come out sure and smooth. “What do you do when that happens?”
“That’s a little more complicated, isn’t it? I mean, just because one soul will love another forever, doesn’t mean it should. It doesn’t always work out. But then, as you say, and I’ve come to agree, people change. And when two people figure out how to do that together, then yes, that can last forever.”
“Oh . . .” Lucy’s heart melted.
“One more thing . . .” He paused and Lucy felt as though she might leap from her seat. “I have tickets to a play next month. They were getting passed around at the office yesterday and I snagged them. Do you want to go?”
“What’s with lawyers and superfluous play tickets?” Lucy laughed. “Pippin again?”
“Sense and Sensibility. The Musical. What do you say?”
Lucy leaned forward. Within a heartbeat, without wavering or blinking, she replied, “I’m all in.”
APRIL 7
Dear Ms. Moore,
The grant for full tuition to the master’s program at Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism remains available. At the strong recommendation of Father John, and due to the confidence he has in you, the director of the Dover Foundation has agreed to give you this second chance. There is, however, one stipulation. The director wants to receive personal progress letters from you as reassurance that this decision was the right one. You may write to him as you would to a journal, letting him know how your studies are going. He has opened a post office box for this purpose so you won’t feel the added pressure of an immediate connection to him or to the foundation. Additionally, he will not write back, but asks that you write to him regularly about “things that matter.”
He recognizes that this is an unusual requirement, but the foundation needs to know that its resources are being used in the best way possible. Given your sudden change of heart, he feels it is not too much to ask. To make this easier for you, he will also remain anonymous. You may write to him at this address under the name George Knightley.
Sincerely,
Laura Temper
Personal Assistant to Mr.
G. Knightley
APRIL 12
Dear Mr. Knightley,
Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. I submitted my application to Medill this morning. I had to use a couple papers on Dickens and Austen in place of the journalism samples requested. While that may count against me, I felt the rest of my application was strong.
If you will allow, I want to honor Father John’s trust and yours by explaining my “sudden change of heart,” as Ms. Temper described it. When I graduated college last spring, I had two opportunities: your grant to fund graduate school or a job at Ernst & Young. In my eagerness to leave Grace House and conquer the world, I chose the job. Six weeks ago I was fired. At the exit meeting my boss claimed I was “unengaged,” especially with regard to peer and client interactions. I did good work there, Mr. Knightley. Good solid work. But “relating” in the workplace is important too, I gather. That’s where I failed. I’m guessing from your literary choice of pseudonym that you are very likely acquainted with another admirable character from fiction—Elizabeth Bennet, Jane Austen’s complex and enchanting heroine. At Ernst & Young I tried to project Lizzy’s boldness and spirit, but clearly she had a confidence and charm that was more than I could sustain on a daily basis. So now here I am, back at Grace House, tak
ing advantage of the state’s willingness to provide a home for me till I’m twenty-five if I stay in school.
Nevertheless, Father John still doubts me and couldn’t resist a lecture this morning. I tried to listen, but my eyes wandered around his office: photographs of all the children who have passed through Grace House cover every space that isn’t taken up with books. He loves murder mysteries: Agatha Christie, James Patterson, Alex Powell, P. D. James, Patricia Cornwell . . . I’ve read most of them. The first day we met, right before I turned fifteen, he challenged me to stretch beyond the classics.
“Are you listening, Sam?” Father John finally noticed my wandering eyes. “The Medill program is straight up your alley. You’re a great reader and writer.”
“ ‘I deserve neither such praise nor such censure. I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.’ ” Elizabeth Bennet has a useful reply for every situation.
Father John gave a small smile, and I flinched. “What if I can’t do this?” I asked. “Maybe it’s a mistake.”
He sat back in his chair and took a slow breath. Eyebrows down, mouth in a line.
“Then turn this down—again—and find another job. Pound the pavement quickly, though. I can give you a couple weeks here to get on your feet, then my hands are tied.” He leaned forward. “Sam, I’ll always help you. But after this, if you’re not in school, Grace House is closed to you. This foundation helps a lot of kids here, and I won’t jeopardize that support because you can’t commit. So decide right now.”
A tear rolled down my cheek. Father John never gets charged up, but I deserved it. I should only be grateful to you both, and here I was questioning your help. But help is hard, Mr. Knightley—even when I desperately need it. Every foster placement of my childhood was intended to help me; every new social worker tried to help my case; when I was sent back home at twelve, the judge meant to help my life too . . . I’m so tired of help.
“I’m sorry, Father John, you’re right. I want this grant and I asked for it again. I must seem so ungrateful to you, to be questioning again.”
“You don’t, Sam, and I can understand wanting to stand alone. Even in the best of times and circumstances, it’s hard to accept help—”
In the end, Father John believed my commitment. I hope you do too. Here is our agreement: you will pay for graduate school, and I will write you letters that give an honest accounting of my life and school—and you will never write back. That simple, right?
Thank you for that, Mr. Knightley—your anonymity. Honesty is easier when you have no face and no real name. And honesty, for me, is very easy on paper.
I also want to assure you that while I may not relate well to people in the real world, I shine in school. It’s paper-based. I will do your grant justice, Mr. Knightley. I’ll shine at Medill.
I know I’ve said more than was necessary in this letter, but I need you to know who I am. We need to have an honest beginning, even if it’s less impressive than Lizzy Bennet’s.
Sincerely,
Samantha Moore
The story continues in Dear Mr. Knightley by Katherine Reay
Discussion Questions from Dear Mr. Knightley
1. Sam found a safe haven in her books, but Hannah accused Sam of hiding in her books. Knowing Sam’s past, her retreat may seem justified. What do you think? Do you ever hide? Are there places you naturally gravitate toward when you feel afraid, hurt, or vulnerable?
2. Father John believed that the best thing for Sam would be to find her way around the “real world and its people.” Do you agree?
3. Did Father John take away Sam’s right to choose by selecting journalism for her graduate studies? Was it her right to choose or was it a gift to accept or reject as offered?
4. How hard is it to recognize a “Josh”—a Wickham, a Willoughby, a Henry Crawford? Why do we let these real-life characters impose on us? Injure us? Is there a difference in the two?
5. Sam said that Kyle would need “more courage to learn to surrender” than he’d needed to survive his abusive childhood or write about it. What does surrender mean? Do you agree with Sam?
6. Alex told Sam that he doesn’t like to disappoint people. Is that a failing or a virtue? How would Alex answer?
7. Sam wrote that the Muirs dropped “hope and hints like bread crumbs” regarding their faith. What does that mean? Do you think this was the right approach for the Muirs to take to introduce love and Christ to Sam? Could Sam have heard or understood a more overt approach? What stands in your way when hearing and absorbing such messages?
8. Was Mr. Knightley right to continue in his anonymity? If not, at what point did it go too far? Is it justifiable to withhold the truth from someone when you believe it’s in that person’s best interest?
9. Sam stated that Austen was brilliant partly because she so accurately reflected human nature and “human nature doesn’t change.” Do you believe that? Can our natures change? If so, what might change them?
10. So many characters change in this story: Sam, Alex, Kyle, Ashley. This suggests the notion that we are all constantly changing, defining, and redefining ourselves. Do you believe that? If so, at what point, does it end?
11. At the end of the story, the professor told Sam she could walk away, that she had the right. Did his advice surprise you? Why? Why did he give her that advice? Was he unfair toward Alex?
12. In the beginning of the story, Sam declared that she does not forgive but in the end she forgave Alex. What changed for her? What barriers to forgiveness do you struggle with?
Discussion Questions from Lizzy & Jane
1. As the story opens, Elizabeth is struggling at Feast. Paul and Tabitha say she is “divided.” Have you felt times in life when your focus is divided?
2. Elizabeth and Jane seem to want to connect but always have something contentious between them. Can you relate? What keeps you from connecting with family and even friends, despite sincere efforts?
3. Illness—or change—of any kind can put pressure on a family. Have you experienced such pressure in your family? How did it play out in daily life?
4. Have you seen the movie Babette’s Feast? Or read the book by Isak Dinesen? It’s a wonderful story of forgiveness, grace, and gorgeous food. What changed in Elizabeth after she saw this movie? What changed in Nick?
5. What do you think of Cecilia’s desire to “never hide” but rather use her unconventional look to reveal her true self? Versus Lizzy, who does the opposite, using her appearance to hide herself from the world?
6. Jim, Lizzy and Jane’s dad, says the love must be more than the like. What do you think he meant? Do you agree?
7. At the beginning, Lizzy and Jane seem to have forgotten or shut out their faith. Through their trials, memories and questions start to surface. Do you find this is how faith works in your life? If so, why might that be?
8. Lizzy notices her “gift” returning in parallel to her loosening control. She even comments that she did none of the cooking one day—and yet she felt joy over it. What might she be experiencing?
9. Jane, while sitting in the booth with Peter, expresses anger and frustration at where she is in life. She resents being “stuck.” Have you felt that way? What propelled you forward?
10. Before Jane’s family goes to the water park, Peter states that if Lizzy leaves, he is certain she’ll “never come back.” Do you think that is true? If she left, would the pain between the sisters remain unresolved? Would Lizzy be running again?
11. “No one told me that grief feels like fear.” This is C.S. Lewis’s opening line in his book, A Grief Observed, and was one of the starting points for Lizzy and Jane’s story. If you’ve experienced grief, do you agree or disagree with Lewis’s statement?
12. Paul arrives in Seattle ready to make all of Lizzy’s dreams come true—or at least, what she once thought her dreams were. How has she changed? Was she foolish not to accept what the world would consider a good deal?
13. At the end of the sto
ry, Jim declares the family “found.” What do you think he meant? Do you agree?
Discussion Questions from The Brontë Plot
1. The Lewis quote at the front of the book describes an aspect of Lucy at the beginning of this story. Why do you think she’d lost the power to enjoy books? Is there something in our lives that we can fail to see clearly and lose enjoyment for?
2. Sid is one of the author’s favorites. What character trait do you think she found so attractive? She doesn’t tell you a lot about his background—any thoughts as to his story?
3. Was James justified in feeling so hurt when he found the forged inscriptions? How did he perceive Lucy’s struggle? Was it a betrayal, like he claimed?
4. Why did Helen hold on to the watch? What was she really afraid to let go? What did it cost her along the way?
5. In London both women begin to change. Why? Do you think James is right that “strings pull tighter at home”?
6. Lucy talks about “boiling a frog.” What does she mean?
7. What changed in Lucy at Haworth, even before her wandering to Top Withens? And at Top Withens, why did Edward Rochester’s journey make such sense to her?
8. Do you agree with Lucy that each person has his or her own worldview? How did hers change? How did James’s? Helen’s?
9. How do you think Helen’s journey will affect her final days with her family?
10. Lucy’s meeting with her father was not what she expected or hoped. What do you think of her letter? Her reasons for leaving without a personal good-bye? What did walking away mean for her? And what do you think she meant when she said “wholeness lies somewhere else entirely”? Do you think her father will understand?
11. In the end Lucy works hard to change—even her reading choices change. Do you think she’ll succeed or, as James once contended, do you think “people don’t change”?
12. Will Lucy and James make it as a couple? Why or why not? Do they see each other more or less clearly now?
A Katherine Reay Collection Page 81
