“Pretty much everything, but poetry’s my favorite. Right now, I’m into Mary Ruefle and Anne Carson.”
Danielle’s hands came up, a gesture that said, See? My sister’s brilliant. “Do you also write?”
“Just poetry.” She gave a self-conscious shrug. “Maggie’s like that, too. Really into books.”
“Not a writer, though,” Maggie said.
The sisters started discussing authors. Did you read so-and-so’s this, not that one but his latest? I did, and what about his first one? Then Danielle asked, “Are you majoring in English?”
“I haven’t gone to college yet.” Lowering her gaze to the table, Linnie smoothed her napkin. “Didn’t even graduate from high school”—she glanced up and wrung the napkin like a wet washcloth—“though I’m signed up to take the GED in the spring.”
“Oh.” Danielle frowned, confused.
“I got pregnant my junior year and dropped out.” She released the napkin. “I have a five-year-old. Her name is Kate.”
Danielle’s mouth fell open and stayed that way. When she finally got some words out, there were only two: “A daughter.”
Linnie nodded once.
Tears filled Danielle’s eyes.
Linnie’s hands flew to her cheeks. “I’m sorry to disappoint—”
“Disappoint?” The sister fumbled with her napkin and pressed it hard against her eyes. Then she settled a fierce look on Linnie. “A niece. I have a niece. A sister and a niece.” Napkin to the face again, a muffled apology, then: “I can’t believe I went for so long…” She cleared her throat and continued huskily, “Wondering about you—praying you’d let me meet you, just so damn blown away that I had a biological relation.” She blew her nose into her napkin. “Not that I’m ungrateful. I know I was lucky to get adopted. And I love my parents. I couldn’t love them more if they’d brought me into the world. But to find out about you was … something else. And now I learn there are two of you. Two people who share my blood. It’s—it’s just…” She exhaled shakily. “Amazing.”
Linnie started crying, too.
They shared a look, then sobbed a laugh. The same laugh: sudden and surprised.
Maggie couldn’t stop herself. She began to sniffle as well.
Danielle wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Tell me about my niece. Kate. Does she look like you?”
“More like her dad. But she’s really…”
Maggie waited. Stubborn?
“Terrific,” Linnie finished on a sigh.
“Smart?”
“Oh gosh, so smart.”
“And probably beautiful.”
“Just darling.”
“What else?”
“Super creative, funny, and sweet.”
“May I meet her?”
“Of course.”
“Right now? Today?”
Linnie laughed. “Sure.”
“Tell me more about her.”
And Linnie did, saying quite a few things that didn’t match the Kate that Maggie had gotten to know. Not that she thought Linnie was lying—just that Maggie was realizing that there was a side of Kate that she didn’t get to see.
Maggie thought about the people she knew, close and far, new and old, alive and dead, and followed the chains of love that linked them, sometimes beautifully, sometimes not. When two people shared love, they noticed the best in each other. But love could also keep a person from seeing the truth … from noticing the bad. Maggie supposed the cliché about love being blind was true. And what a dangerous circumstance that could be.
But what a wonderful thing, too.
* * *
The next day, Maggie softly closed the back door behind her. Her mother and Wren were still sleeping, and she didn’t want to wake them. She’d warned them the night before that she’d be heading to Carlton first thing in the morning; she just hadn’t mentioned how early—or, for that matter, why so early.
Pink formed fluffy clumps across the sky. The rosy clouds reminded Maggie of a girl’s slippers. As she made her way to the driveway, the wind swooped her hair up from behind and prodded her in the direction of the lake. She resisted the nudge. This wasn’t a day for beach walks. After she got into Mom’s car and started the engine, she sent a brief text: Be there by two. Keep an eye out for me. Maggie
Just a reminder. Last night, she’d sent some longer messages—emails to a few different people. And she’d received responses.
As she traveled toward home, she thought about Linnie and Danielle. Over dessert the previous evening, they had discussed the possibility of a Christmas Eve party—just the Pinsky family, Linnie, the Blakes, and Maggie’s small family. Maggie wondered about Caleb. Maybe, if he was around, he’d come.
Before she knew it, she was halfway to Carlton. The drive wasn’t difficult at all. Easy enough to go back and forth on some weekends to see Wren, Linnie, Sam, and her book club friends. She didn’t want to miss any more meetings.
There was a lot to do before making her way to the library tonight. Dad knew to expect her for supper. They would probably dine early at Dilly’s. And then, in the morning, Maggie would return to Wren’s. Mom planned to go back to Carlton on Wednesday. Last night, Maggie had called her mother’s boss to let her know that she’d be covering the book club discussion and that Mom wouldn’t be back to work until Thursday. Janice must have gotten the impression from Maggie’s discreet explanation that Minerva Arioli had suffered a nervous breakdown because all she’d said was, “Poor Min. I’m not surprised. Tell her to take as much time off as she needs. With her losing her folks and then that awful business you went through last year and Min being such a trouper, staying so strong and upbeat, well, it was all bound to catch up with her eventually.” Maggie hadn’t corrected her. Janice was mostly right.
The next time Maggie glanced at the time it was half past one. Almost there. She took the Wilson exit.
She had no difficulty finding the Cannons’ house. And this time, it wasn’t hard to track down Jane, either. Despite the cold, Jane was waiting for her outside by the front door, hunched in a black winter coat and sitting on a brick step.
Maggie parked on the side of the road.
Jane nodded. She looked determined, and Maggie was relieved about that. They were going to Carlton to press charges.
As she slipped out of the car, she remembered the first time she’d met Linnie, also perched on a front step.
Jane, Maggie: girls who’d barely crossed the threshold of childhood—who hadn’t even made it through their teen years—before getting knocked down. And Linnie had been even younger.
But Maggie hadn’t stayed down.
“Hey.” She smiled and trudged up the paved walkway. “Our appointment’s at three-thirty. It’ll take us over an hour to get there. Ready?”
“Yeah.” Jane smiled a little. Her face was free of makeup and full of resolve. “Thanks for coming with me today. But what about next year? Are you going back? Did you decide?”
Maggie put out a hand and helped Jane get on her feet. “I’m in.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Several friends’ support saw me through this novel, from the research to the writing, and I am obliged to them.
Special thanks to my outstanding editor, Liz Szabla, who has an unerring sense of what’s working in a narrative and what isn’t. She encouraged me to dig deeper into some parts of Maggie’s story and wisely advised me to leave matters messy when it came to a few others. I couldn’t ask for a better editor. Her insights are exceptional and invaluable to me.
Heartfelt thanks to my marvelous agent, Rebecca Stead, who is nothing less than a blessing. I am grateful for her guidance, intelligence, wit, and warmth. Also, right up to the eleventh hour, she put her writerly talent to excellent use for my benefit. (Thank you, dear Rebecca.)
A huge thanks to everyone at Feiwel and Friends, including Morgan Rath, Melinda Ackell, Liz Dresner, Katie Klimowicz, Anna Poon, and Kim Waymer. What a terrific team.
Thanks to Ambe
r Christopher-Buscemi, my wonderful writing partner, who read an early draft of the manuscript and provided sage advice. Thanks to my smart friend Anna Symons, who puts up with my brainstorming, listens closely, and counsels well. And thanks to the psychology professor (and my longtime friend) Amy Gaesser, who answered my questions about PTSD and recommended some superb books in the course of my research.
Speaking of books, I consulted many. A few nonfiction works proved particularly helpful, including Dr. Bessel van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score, a thorough examination of trauma and its lasting effects on survivors. Alice Sebold’s Lucky is a brave memoir about a sexual assault and its harrowing aftermath. I found it deeply moving, as I did Jon Krakauer’s Missoula, an illuminating investigation into campus rape. Krakauer deepened my understanding of how sexual assault cases may play out in the criminal justice system, how a university’s adjudication process will handle such cases differently, and the controversies and challenges that arise in both arenas. These works confront the difficult subjects of rape, trauma, and abuse with compassion and honesty, and they taught me a great deal.
For their generous spirits and countless kindnesses, I am grateful to Jennifer L. Johnson, Jennifer R. Johnson, Allie Johnson, Gwen Oosterhouse, Diane Palmer, Adrienne Kirby, Maarit Vaga, Marsha Rivers, Sharon Stewart, Shannon Stewart, Sharon Root, Nicole Slick, Rita Walton, Erin Lyon, James Tate Hill, my pottery pal Sylvia Johnson, my terrific siblings Robbie Ostrom and Noelle Swanson, the rest of my family, and my students, who keep me on my toes and teach me at least as much as I teach them.
Most of all, warmest thanks to Michael, Lily, and Quinn—my sweethearts.
Thank you for reading this Feiwel and Friends book.
The friends who made UNLEAVING possible are:
JEAN FEIWEL
PUBLISHER
LIZ SZABLA
ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
RICH DEAS
SENIOR CREATIVE DIRECTOR
HOLLY WEST
EDITOR
ANNA ROBERTO
EDITOR
KAT BRZOZOWSKI
EDITOR
VAL OTAROD
ASSOCIATE EDITOR
ALEXEI ESIKOFF
SENIOR MANAGING EDITOR
KIM WAYMER
SENIOR PRODUCTION MANAGER
ANNA POON
ASSISTANT EDITOR
EMILY SETTLE
ASSISTANT EDITOR
KATIE KLIMOWICZ
SENIOR DESIGNER
MELINDA ACKELL
COPY CHIEF
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Melissa Ostrom teaches English literature at Genesee Community College in Batavia, New York. She is the author of The Beloved Wild. She lives in Holley, New York, with her family.
Visit her online at melissaostrom.com or sign up for email updates here.
Twitter: @melostrom
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 by Melissa Ostrom
A Feiwel and Friends Book
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
fiercereads.com
All rights reserved.
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Ostrom, Melissa, author.
Title: Unleaving / Melissa Ostrom.
Description: New York: Feiwel and Friends, [2019] | Summary: After being sexually assaulted by a football star, Maggie drops out of college but cannot escape the fact that everyone blames her for what happened.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018019376 | ISBN 9781250132819 (hardcover)
Subjects: | CYAC: Sexual abuse—Fiction. | Depression, Mental—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.O85 Un 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018019376
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First hardcover edition 2019
eBook edition March 2019
eISBN 9781250132826
Unleaving Page 23
