We had saved our trip to the Arken Museum for our last full day in Denmark, a sparkling blue day that called out for exploration. We took the train from Copenhagen Central Station to the town of Ishoj, a small beach town a half hour outside of the city where the museum was located on an island. The building was designed to look like a deconstructed shipwreck—a clean, crisp Scandinavian shipwreck, of course. Stunning. The short walk from the station to the museum took us along the water’s edge, surrounded by green marshes, a crystal lagoon, and white sand. I had spotty memories of being at the museum for the dedication almost twenty years ago, which seemed impossible as I watched children wading out into the water. Today I would remember.
Light/Break #22 is a classic Blakely, one of his signature three-dimensional experiences in sensory deprivation, an empty giant box with a hole to the sky. For #22, my father intended to re-create deep space, not in some hokey planetarium light show fashion, but a full-body experience as the box becomes filled with color, allowing the viewer to understand the materiality of light and, in the case of #22, the vastness of space. During the cycle, the edges of the room disappeared; the walls glowed with projected color that changed so seamlessly, the viewer barely noticed the evolution from bright white to purple to orange to dark green to deep black and back to bright white. The opening to the sky was washed in that brilliant Danish blue light my father had worked so hard to get exactly right. On this day, my father’s sky and the Danish sky matched exactly.
We stood together holding hands for thirteen minutes as the colors cycled, our perception of the edges of the room falling away the longer we stood there. In the deep black light, I had the sense I could be anywhere and yet only here.
Only when the light returned to bright white did Nate speak. “We can know a star without touching it. Isn’t that what you said this piece symbolized?”
I nodded.
Nate squeezed my hand. “Now I get it.”
I think we knew it then, that what we had, the adventure of it all, would never survive an everyday life of buying groceries or doing laundry, but we held hands anyway. We had a sweet, sad, wonderful goodbye at luggage carousel number 4, when Nate kissed me for the last time and whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Joan.”
And I whispered back, “No, thank you.”
Maybe someday, I would tell this handsome smart doctor about Blackbird or the black dress or the occasional texts from Nate when he spots what he calls a “Joan in the Wild” and sends a photo of some artistic depiction of my patron saint that he’s stumbled upon in his travels, but I doubted it. He might meet Nate at the premiere of Bright & Dark because Beckman would insist that Nate attend, and I wouldn’t mind if he did. But even then, I’d keep the backstory to myself. Not because I thought this Mason wouldn’t be around for long, but because I wanted to savor my own little messy business, something else I learned from my mother. “There’s nothing you need to know. Except that you were right in your prescription.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Thank you for the faith.” More food arrived, some exotic fries with dipping sauces, a slider plate of some sort. It all smelled wonderful, rich and smoky. I was starving.
We both let the food sit there, delaying the gratification. Mason leaned forward. “And now, look at you. Here you are.”
Yes, here I am.
Acknowledgments
My working title for this book was Joan of Art and I still think of it as Joan, even though I love the current title. I’m thrilled and relieved that my fictional Joan has finally arrived in the world, emerging like a champion to restart her life after a period of loss and upheaval. Go, Joan. Many thanks to my editor, Rachel Kahan, who believed in Joan from the beginning. Your faith and insight were invaluable. I’m honored to be part of the William Morrow imprint and appreciate the hard work and kind support of: Jennifer Hart, Ariana Sinclair, Tavia Kowalchuk, Elsie Lyons, Shelby Peak, and Kyle O’Brien.
More thanks to my agent, Yfat Reiss Gendell of YRG Partners, who provides equal parts encouragement and tough love. Onwards, sister.
This book evolved over many years and I’m grateful for people who asked me repeatedly, “How’s that Paris book coming?” Writers need nudges and I have mine in longtime supportive friends, family, and colleagues. For this book, a special thanks to my go-to text chain when I needed a boost, the women of 47 Sexy Sagehens: Daniela Stepman Abbott, Louise Felton Brown, Karah Koe Curtis, Kristin McQueen, Lyn Cunliffe Reeder, and Rachel Horton Pusch. The Sagehen Sisterhood is strong.
The sisterhood of women in fiction is also strong. Cheers to the writers and wonderful women of Friends & Fiction for their early and ongoing support: Mary Kay Andrews, Kristin Harmel, Kristy Woodson Harvey, Patti Callahan Henry, and Mary Alice Monroe. And the many writers, booksellers, and book advocates I’ve gotten to know over the years, both in person and on social media. We lift each other up.
My Satellite Sisters community is filled with wonderful people and readers who have supported my books for over a decade. Thanks to the self-appointed Satellite Sister Street Team for spreading the word. And a special debt of gratitude to librarian extraordinaire, podcaster, and Satellite Mister Ron Block. Thank you, Satellite Sisters and Misters!
Finally, a salute to the men in my life that helped make Joan happen. My father, James Dolan, had a deep reverence for Saint Joan and inspired portions of this story. I think he would have enjoyed this tale. My son Colin Treidler joined me on my research trip in Paris, climbing the steps of Sacré-Coeur, exploring the Panthéon crypts, and suffering through my rusty French in restaurants. Thank you for your curiosity, Colin. I’m grateful to my son Brookes Treidler for my author photos and so much other creative advice over the last few years. It never occurred to me how handy it would be to give birth to a professional photographer. I’m very proud of you, Brookes. And, as always, love and thanks to my husband (and sweater vest inspiration), Berick Treidler.
About the Author
LIAN DOLAN is a Los Angeles Times bestselling author of fiction and nonfiction. Her previous novels are The Sweeney Sisters, Helen of Pasadena, and Elizabeth the First Wife. She has written regular columns for O, The Oprah Magazine; Working Mother; and Pasadena Magazine. She is also the host of Satellite Sisters, an award-winning podcast she created with her four real-life sisters. A graduate of Pomona College, she lives in Pasadena,
California, with her husband, two sons, and a big German shepherd.
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