Nick loved me the most.
The cemetery is near empty when we arrive. It’s quiet, the only sound the rustling of the breeze through the trees. My mother and father are out of the car, perched on a concrete bench beneath the shade of a maple tree. In my mother’s grasp rests Felix, my father’s arms around the both of them as an extra safeguard. Felix’s eyes are wide with wonder, staring quizzically up at a new face, one he’s yet to see. He smiles a toothless grin, and at seeing this, Maisie points and says, “Look, Mommy. Felix likes her,” and I say yes, yes he does, wondering if Felix can like Grandma, then maybe Maisie can, too.
“Maybe you want to sit by Grandma when we come back?” I ask, and Maisie shrugs her shoulders and says, “Maybe.”
“We’ll be right back,” I call to my father as I take Maisie by the hand, and he tells me to take my time.
“There’s no hurry, Clarabelle,” he says, though when we return, we’ve promised Maisie ice cream. But first, I’d told her, there’s something we have to do.
I haven’t been here in weeks. The land that was once bare is now a patchy green, Nick’s resting spot no longer looking so new. The headstone can’t be placed until after the ground has settled, and so for now it’s simply a depression in the earth littered with sprouts of grass. I lead Maisie over the sloping lawn to find her father. Where’s Daddy? Maisie has asked, a hundred times or more. Today I will sit her down beside his grave and tell her about Nick.
“What are we doing here, Mommy?” she asks as we come to the spot, and I tell Maisie to sit down beside me, and she happily obliges, dropping quickly to the ground. A red-winged blackbird perches in a nearby tree, black, button-like eyes watching Maisie and me. I turn to the bird, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the sunlight, and it calls to me, a lilting trill, its beautiful bold colors conspicuous in the green tree. Above us the sky is a brilliant blue that enhances the green of the trees, marred only by the contrails of a passing jetliner. There’s not a cloud in the sky as we watch the bird spring from the treetop and disappear into the afternoon, wings extended, soaring freely through the sky.
“You’ve been missing Daddy,” I say to her, and already my voice is quivering, and my eyes fill with tears. “You’ve been asking about Daddy,” I say, to which she nods her head and smiles, her eyes brightening with the belief that Daddy is here, as she peers over her shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon for signs of her father, sitting beside a tree or cresting a faraway hill.
He’s not there. Her smile fades, and her eyes grow sad.
“Where is he, Mommy?” she asks. “Where’s Daddy?” and this time I tell her.
She doesn’t cry. She stares quietly up at the bright blue sky, eyes set on that blackbird as it soars through the atmosphere, wings extended, merely drifting through the sky, disappearing until nothing remains of it but a speck of black amidst the blue.
“You know what I think, Mommy?” Maisie asks, and even before she speaks, I know she’s going to say something timely and brilliant, as only Maisie can do.
“What’s that, honey?” I ask, stroking her hair, and as the bird passes completely from sight, she smiles and says to me, finger pointing at the long-lost speck.
“I think Daddy’s flying.”
*
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It goes without saying that publishing a novel is a collaborative experience. I’m forever indebted to my amazing team for all of their hard work and tenacity on this project. Every Last Lie wouldn’t have been possible without the patience, diligence and extraordinary intuition of Erika Imranyi, who tirelessly reads and edits my manuscripts time and again to make sure they’re top-notch, providing brilliant insight into the lives of my characters, or my incredible literary agent, Rachael Dillon Fried, whose constant reassurance and enthusiasm (late-night phone calls, flying hundreds of miles for lunch and a pep talk) keep me doing what I love to do. Thank you to the HarperCollins and Harlequin teams, and to the wonderful folks of Sanford J. Greenburger Associates for their continued support. I couldn’t be more proud to be part of your families. Special thanks to Natalie Hallak for the fabulous editorial assistance, to Emer Flounders and Shara Alexander for the amazing publicity, and to the sales and marketing teams, both locally and abroad, for sharing my books with the world. And to all of those who have had a hand in the publication process—copy editors, proofreaders, the ingenious crew who designs my lovely covers—thank you, thank you, thank you!
In the last few years I’ve had the chance to meet truly exceptional booksellers, librarians, bloggers and readers across the world, all of whom have graciously hosted me for book signing events, read and written reviews of my novels, done giveaways, welcomed me into their book clubs and suggested to a friend that he or she read my books. It truly takes a village to make a novel successful, and to everyone who has played a part in spreading the word—none of this would be possible without you!
Finally, a huge shout-out to my family and friends, especially Dad and Mom, my sisters, Michelle, Sara and their families, the Kyrychenko family, and Pete, Addison and Aidan for the unvarying support, for being the most vocal advocates of my books and a constant sounding board for the ideas that fill my mind and for driving to every single bookstore and library in Chicagoland—and elsewhere—to hear me speak. Though I might not always say it, it means the world to me. Love you all!