“It wasn’t anything much, and it turned out to be a wrong turn anyway. I’m just glad you got him back.”
“Yes. Thank you,” she said again, and she was annoyed at herself. There was so much more she wanted to say to Edward, all of it crowding her mind, trapped in her throat.
The music seemed to swell outside the silence that contained them. Inside it, Lily was conscious of Edward’s nearness, the faint scent of his aftershave, the moonlit glimmer that outlined his jaw and skimmed the muscled contours of his forearms, which were bare below the rolled sleeves of his white oxford dress shirt.
She glanced at him. “I wanted to tell you—”
“I hired a private detective,” he said at the same time.
“You did?”
“Yes, but you first.”
“No, you—”
“I’m going to find Charlie and try to explain, if he’ll let me,” Edward said. “You inspired me,” he added.
“I did?” Lily doubted she had ever inspired anyone.
“Yes,” he said, and they fell silent again.
They watched the dancers.
“I guess you’ll be heading back to Dallas soon?” He was asking.
“No, I’m staying at the ranch for the time being, until I can figure out a more permanent home for myself.”
Lily was relieved when Edward nodded and left it at that. Her decision was so fresh, unexplored in any depth even by herself. His questions would only disconcert her.
A new song began playing, one of her favorites, an old Garth Brooks standard, “The Dance.” The lyrics stood out—something about life being better left to chance. She felt the warmth of Edward’s gaze.
“I don’t guess you’d care to dance?” She turned to him. “I have to warn you, it’s a risk.” He smiled at her. “I’m not very good at it.”
“Well.” She smiled, too. “Someone once told me life is a gamble.”
“Oh?” He slid his hand under her elbow. “Do you believe them?”
Rather than answer, she looked across the makeshift dance floor at AJ holding Shea in his arms. There was no trace of his earlier apprehension, although Lily knew in all likelihood it would return. But at least they had reestablished a connection. However tenuous and fragile, they had a chance at a new beginning. She would be there for him, help him in whatever way she could. Lily was thinking of this, of the gift she’d been given, when it struck her—the horrible irony—that the very tragedy that had devastated three other families had in its way restored hers, although not as it had been. It hadn’t occurred to her before, and now when it did, she felt her knees weaken slightly, enough that Edward tightened his grasp on her arm.
“Easy,” he said. “Are you all right?”
She held his gaze. If she told him what had disturbed her, that she, like AJ, wondered why she had been spared the heartbreak of the other families, she suspected Edward would say she couldn’t change what had happened. She couldn’t give back what the other families had lost. Somehow she knew Edward would tell her all she could do was move forward. She had no real idea of how AJ would react when he learned of her past and that she had kept it secret from him the way her dad had kept Erik’s true relationship to them a secret. She couldn’t know either what lay ahead for her family, whether AJ would ever truly recover, or how they would manage if her dad was losing his mind. She didn’t want to know, she thought. The song lyrics were right. The future was better left to chance. She looked again at AJ and Shea, and AJ, catching her at it, grinned, whirling his bride. Shea’s skirt swooped, and she laughed and waved, and Lily’s happiness in their joy rose, seemingly from the ground, a warm bolus of love that swelled against her ribs.
Edward said her name, prompting her, and smiling up at him, Lily slipped her hand into his. “I think we should dance,” she said.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
If you’re curious about the car accident and ensuing legal fallout that shattered the town of Wyatt that Ken and Dru refer to in The Truth We Bury, check out Faultlines (Lake Union, 2016) to learn the whole story.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
While there is only one person named as the author of this novel, it would never have been written without the help of so many others. I owe thanks always to Barbara Poelle, because without her none of the rest of this magical journey would have ever happened. I am indebted to my editor, Kelli Martin. This is the second book we’ve worked on together, and both experiences have been a true collaboration of the heart. I worked with a developmental editor, Melody Guy, for the first time for this book, and am so grateful for her astute guidance and care in the shaping of this story.
A huge bouquet of gratitude to my copy editor, Sara Brady, and to my proofreaders, Jill Kramer and Elise Marton, for the fantastic job you both did in refining all the details: voice, clarity, consistency, and all the rest. Copy editing and proofreading aren’t just spelling and grammar, folks! There’s so much more to what Sara and Jill do! And a boatload of thanks to my cover designer, Rex Bonomelli, for his fantastic art that so completely captures in a single image the heart and spirit of this story.
Thank you to the rest of my amazing Amazon/Lake Union team, naming just a few: Dennelle, Danielle, Gabby, Michael, and Gabe. It’s all of them and the countless others who work behind the scenes that give books their wings.
I want to thank Spanish-language teacher Robert Wedding, of Paschal High School in the Fort Worth ISD, for his help in the translation and usage of the Spanish terminology. Any inaccuracies in that regard are my own. I never would have met Robert without my sister’s help. Thank you to Susan Harper for putting us in touch, and for a lifetime of book sharing and sister talk.
Recently, reading a Facebook post, I was brought to tears by the beautiful words of my friend, teacher, and mentor, Guida Jackson, in which she paid tribute to my writing journey. The thing is, I might never have persevered without her influence, her encouragement, and her faith. She is a brighter light on my path than she knows.
Thank you to David, as ever, for endlessly, patiently, listening to me think plots out loud, and for making me laugh. His comments are just enlightening, the very spark I need. This time, I don’t think I would have found the beating heart of this book without his help. Thank you to Heather Wilson for her tireless support and encouragement, and in the case of this particular novel, her help with music choices. Garth Brooks’s “The Dance” kind of says it all for this story.
And yet again, a huge and heartfelt shout-out to my readers. So many of you have been with me since the first book, or you read one and went back and picked up all the rest. You’ve left reviews; you’ve sent me notes, and there just