The Comfort of Lies (40 page)

BOOK: The Comfort of Lies

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At the luggage carousel, Tia watched for the shabby red suitcases that had been her mother’s. Thinking of her mother was less painful for Tia since she’d seen Savannah. For the first time, she could imagine her mother understanding how Tia had come to her decisions, even if she didn’t agree with them. She felt as though her mother had finally lifted her curse.

Now that Tia had seen Savannah being held by Caroline and Peter, she could finally unclench after all the years she’d spent paralyzed since letting go of her baby. Now that she and Caroline were in contact, she’d always know that Savannah was safe.

Tia would never turn away from Savannah. She’d never be a mystery. Either road Tia could have taken, giving her daughter away or keeping her, may have turned out to be the wrong choice. Or the right one. But now, at least Tia had finally faced her decision. Her daughter was no longer a hidden shame that required piling bandage upon bandage.

She didn’t have to lie anymore.

Perhaps her mother had been right. Maybe giving away Savannah had been like giving away her legs, but the way Tia saw it, she’d only crippled herself. She had given Savannah a chance. Tia hoped her mother would understand. At the very least, she’d be happy for the same things that gave Tia hope and happiness.

Savannah was in good hands.

Tia finally knew her daughter, and she knew that she’d see her again.

• • •

Flying hadn’t been so bad. Years of stomach-turning fear melted with an antihistamine. Maybe not the bravest way to change, but at least she was here. Perhaps next time she could even pull it off without the Allerest. If not, who cared?

She pulled her luggage through large glass doors that opened automatically and shielded her eyes from the early morning glare as she
stepped outside. California’s brilliant blue sky appeared wide open.

At that moment, Robin pulled up in the tomato-red Honda she’d described the previous night as she waved a picture of the car at the Skype screen.

“Do you honestly think I can see that?” Tia had laughed. “Don’t worry. Trust me, I can find a car.”

Still, her friend’s protectiveness touched Tia.

“A year, that’s all I ask,” Robin had said. “Okay, six months, then,” she’d immediately compromised when Tia insisted that a year was too long. “Just give California that long a chance.”

While planning her trip to California, Tia had emailed Robin’s California address to Caroline, who’d written back with her and Peter’s new address—in Jamaica Plain, of all places. Attached to Caroline’s email were photos of Savannah getting ready for her first day of kindergarten. Caroline had sent autumn photos.

Tia no longer worried about losing touch. Caroline was more than trustworthy. No more waiting for a whole year to see pictures of her daughter. They were already talking about how and when Tia would next see Savannah.

The last time she’d spoken with Nathan had been right before Memorial Day, not long after they saw Savannah. Tia suspected she was the only one to whom he could talk about the situation. It had been obvious he’d had too much to drink. Not that he’d been drunk, just loose enough that he didn’t talk to Tia as though she were a spider about to crawl up his back.

“I just don’t know if Juliette will take me back,” he’d said. “I’m afraid she’s lost respect for me. That really hurts. You know what I mean?”

Hearing how much Juliette’s respect meant to Nathan broke Tia’s final bits of obsession with him. He never valued her opinion with that depth. Wanted her, yes. Maybe even briefly thought he needed her and convinced himself he loved her, but Tia’s estimation of Nathan had never mattered like Juliette’s. In the hierarchy of Nathan’s family and friends, Tia barely had a foothold.

Juliette took him back. Caroline let her know. How odd that Caroline had become her conduit for information. Odder still, Tia
found herself happy that Nathan and Juliette had reunited. It meant one less sin for which she had to atone.

Tia slipped into Robin’s car. They hugged as sisters.

“Welcome, Tee,” Robin stroked her cheek. “You look like hell.”

“Good to see you too. It was a long flight.”

“The first trip is always the hardest,” Robin said. “You’ll recover.”

Tia slipped on the sunglasses Robin held out to her. “That’s exactly what I’m planning.”

As they drove from the airport, Tia felt the misery of the past years start lifting. She’d saved herself from the rabbit hole of despair after waiting for so many years for rescue to ride in on a white horse, with Nathan the face of her savior.

For a while, she’d thought Bobby’s hand was the one that would lift her out of misery, and in truth, the comfort of Bobby still beckoned like an eiderdown quilt. But scraping away the layers of denial she’d been using—Bobby, drinking, impossible dreams—had set her free.

Tia swore that she’d never muffle her mind again. The right place, the right person, and exactly the path she should walk waited out there—none of which would require her to catalog her life into on-limits and off-limits.

Braiding Savannah’s hair or swinging her in a circle might not be in Tia’s future, but she didn’t have to hide her daughter’s existence. She could feel love for Savannah without reaching for a drink. On Savannah’s sixth birthday, Caroline would send pictures; Tia would send a doll, maybe a necklace made by Robin, or a teddy bear: for the first time, she’d buy her child a birthday present.

Whether or not Savannah’s parents gave it to her was their choice. Sending it would be Tia’s.

She’d always be there for her daughter, and Savannah was in the right place. Tia’s willingness to endure for her child meant walking away, not fighting for her, and through that choice, she’d gained the possibility for a someday future with Savannah.

They were all connected. And in the oddest way, they had all become a family.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many people supported me in writing
The Comfort of Lies
, but none more than my husband, Jeff Rand, who gifted me a life without sad songs and made it possible to fearlessly visit the past, and Ginny DeLuca, my best friend and partner in all things in life—including writing. We’ve held hands through all our choices, smart and stupid, since we were twenty-three, and will continue until we’re trading canes.

Family, friends, and colleagues helped me breathe life into these characters I love. Stéphanie Abou has been my wise, warm, and determined partner from the beginning, as has everyone at Foundry Literary + Media. Atria Books is everything you want a publisher to be. Judith Curr is whip-smart warm, and I thank her for bringing me into the Atria fold. Greer Hendricks is truly a dream-come-true editor, who pushed me perfectly, and I am forever grateful to be working with her. Sarah Cantin makes everything about publishing happier, easier, and better. Within moments of asking for help, Julia Scribner was there. Lisa Sciambra, Cristina Suarez, and Anne Spieth provided a welcome that portends a lasting mountain of thanks from me. Phil Bashe allowed me to appear far smarter than reality. Laywan Kwan, I am still smiling from your extraordinary cover. My journey with Atria has just begun, but I know I have found a home.

Nancy MacDonald, you are a touchstone of perception, wisdom, comfort, and help; you improve everything you touch. Kathleen
Carter Zrelak, from Goldberg McDuffie, how did you become such a terrific publicist
and
a therapist? Rose Daniels, your great design talent actually made building a website fun.

To “team”—beloved Nichole Bemier and Kathy Crowley—thank you for absorbing my tears, celebrating my joy, and holding my secrets. Melisse Shapiro, the quality of my life jumped many levels when I met you. To my circle of trusted writer friends—bless our virtual water fountain: my dearly loved Robin Black, Jenna Blum, Juliette Fay, Beth Hoffman, Marianne Leone, Ellen Meeropol, Elizabeth Moore, Laura Zigman: everyone should have such trust, wisdom, and support surrounding them. Chris Abouzeid, Christiane Alsop, Stephanie Ebbert, Leslie Greffenius, Javed Jahangir, Necee Regis, Dell Smith, Becky Tuch, and Julie Wu—you are all way
Beyond the Margins
: wonderful partners, great for depth, and incredible for parties. Amin Ahmad, may we always be such wonderful (honest!) readers for each other.

Special thanks to Linda Percy, you and the rubber duck offered special faith, smiles, and optimism; and to Stacy Meyers Ames, you sure gave this wildly neurotic woman a shot of confidence.

Heartfelt thanks to the Grub Street Writer’s Center of Boston, especially Eve Bridburg, Chris Castellani, Whitney Scharer, and Sonya Larson, for bringing us all together and making dreams come true. Real-life hugs to everyone in the fabulous online Fiction Writer’s Co-op, with a special shout out to Cathy Buchanan for taking the time to put it together.

My deep love and thanks belong to my family, including the sisters of my heart, Diane Butkus and Susan Knight. I bask in the love of my sisters-in-law, Nicole Todini and Jean Rand, and my brother-in-law, Bruce Rand. A special thanks to my dear mother-in-law, Jeanne Rand, for her constant pride. And Mom, you are always with me.

Those who own my heart, the loves of my life, offer comfort, joy, and understanding: my sister (and best friend), Jill Meyers; my children and my granddaughter: Becca Wolfson, Sara, Jason, and Nora Hoots, and, again, the love of my life, Jeff Rand.

Randy Susan Meyers
is the author of the bestselling and critically acclaimed
The Murderer’s Daughters,
which was chosen as a Massachusetts Center for the Book “Must-Read Book” and a finalist for the Massachusetts Book Award. She currently lives in Boston with her husband.

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