Read an Excerpt from The Banned Books Club

To Sheila Chin, a reader and member of Brenda Novak’s Book Group on Facebook. I’ll never forget you coming to see me in Dallas while I was on my big Bookstream (vintage Airstream turned traveling bookstore/coffee shop) tour for The Seaside Library. There were so many incredible moments on that two-month cross-country odyssey, but your appearance stands out even still. You showed up with boxes and boxes of my books, some of which contained several brand-new copies of my latest releases (fifteen copies of The Bookstore on the Beach!). You were giving them back to me so I could use them for giveaways and other things in our book group, and when I asked why you’d purchased so many, you said, “Well, there’s this certain author I’ve been trying to support…” It’s one of the most generous things anyone has ever done for me, and I was—and still am—completely blown away! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Chapter One

“Wait…you’re not still running that book club you started in high school, are you?”

Gia Rossi had been shopping at her local grocer when her sister called. “I’ve never really stopped. Not completely.” She switched her phone to her other ear, so she could use her more dexterous left hand to steer her empty shopping cart across the parking lot to the reclamation point.

“Most of the members weren’t your friends. They were just people who blindly followed you no matter what you did,” her sister pointed out dryly.

Was there a hint of jealousy in that response? Margaret, who’d been known as Maggie when they were kids but now called herself a more distinguished Margot, was only thirteen months younger than Gia, so just one year behind her in school. Margot hadn’t been nearly as popular—but it was because she’d never done anything exciting. She’d been part of the academic group, too busy excelling to be going out having fun.

“A few of them were close friends,” Gia insisted. “Ruth, Sammie and a handful of others are still in the book club with me, and we rotate picking a read.”

“Seriously? It’s been seventeen years since you graduated. I thought you left them and everything else behind when you dropped out of college and took off for Alaska.”

Her sister never would’ve done something that reckless, that impulsive—or that ill-advised. Gia had walked away from a volleyball scholarship at the University of Iowa, which was part of the reason her family had freaked out. But she was glad she’d made that decision. She treasured the memories of freewheeling her way through life in her twenties, learning everything she could while working on crabbing and fishing boats and for various sightseeing companies. She wouldn’t have the business she owned now, with a partner, if not for that experience. “No. We fell off for a bit, then we went back to it, then we fell off again, and now we meet on Zoom to discuss the book we’re reading on the fourth Thursday of every month.” She lowered her voice for emphasis. “And, of course, we make sure it’s the most scandalous book we can find.”

Margot had never approved of the book group or anything else Gia did—and that hadn’t changed over the years, which was why Gia couldn’t resist needling her.

“I’m sure you do,” Margot said, but she didn’t react beyond a slightly sour tone. She’d grown adept at avoiding the kind of arguments that used to flare up between them, despite Gia sometimes baiting her. “So seven or eight out of what…about sixty are active again?”

“For one month out of the year, the ratio’s quite a bit better than that,” she said as the shopping cart clanged home, making her feel secure enough to walk away from it. “The rest of the group gets together for an online Christmas party in December.”

“How many people come to that?”

Margot sounded as if she felt left out, but she’d never shown any interest in the book group. “Probably fifteen or twenty, but it’s not always the same fifteen or twenty.” She opened the door to her red Tesla Model 3, which signaled the computer to start the heater—something she was grateful for since she hadn’t worn a heavy enough coat for the brisk October morning. Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, didn’t usually turn this cold until November or December.

The car’s Bluetooth picked up the call as Margot asked, “Why haven’t you ever mentioned it?”

Now that they lived thirteen hundred miles apart, there were a lot of things she didn’t tell her sister. It wasn’t until she’d left her hometown behind that she’d felt she could live a truly authentic life—one without the constant unfavorable comparisons to her “perfect” sibling.

But that wasn’t why she hadn’t mentioned the book group. She’d assumed her sister wouldn’t want to hear about it. Margot had been mortified when Gia challenged the gaggle of well-meaning but misguided women from the PTA who’d descended on Room 23 on Back-to-School Night, insisting Mr. Hart, head of the English department, drop The Catcher in the Rye, The Outsiders and The Handmaid’s Tale from the Honors English reading list. Gia had expected her favorite teacher to stand up for the books she loved by explaining why they were so important. She’d known how much he’d loved those books, too. Instead, just to avoid a fight, he’d caved in immediately, which was what had incited her to start a club that championed the books they’d targeted—as well as others.

That was the first time Mr. Hart had let her down, but it wouldn’t be the last. “If you’d ever joined the club, you’d be on the email list,” she said as she backed out of the parking space.

“I would’ve, but you know me. I don’t really read.”

Her sister would not have joined. The Banned Books Club was far too controversial for Margot. It would’ve required a bit of rebellion—something she seemed incapable of. And maybe she didn’t read much fiction, but Gia knew her to consume the occasional self-help tome. That was probably how she reassured herself she was still the best person she knew, because if there was anyone who didn’t need a self-help book, it was Margot. Their parents’ expectations were more than enough to create her boundaries.

“You should try reading along with us now and then. It might broaden your horizons.” As good as Margot was, she had a mind like a steel trap—one that was always closed, especially when faced with any information that challenged what she already believed. She lived inside a bubble of confirmation bias; the only facts and ideas that could permeate it were those that supported her world view.

“I’m happy with my horizons being right where they are, thank you.”

“You don’t see the limitations?”

“Are you trying to offend me?” she asked.

Gia bit back a sigh. That was the difference between them. Margot would sacrifice anything to maintain her position as their parents’ favorite child, to gain the approval of others, especially her husband, and be admired by the community at large. Growing up, she’d kept her room tidy, gotten straight As and played the piano in church. And these days, she was a stay-at-home mom with two children, someone who made a “hot dish”—what most people outside the Midwest would call a casserole—for any neighbor, friend or acquaintance who might be having surgery or suffering some kind of setback.

Her conventionalism was—in certain ways—something to be admired. As the black sheep of the family, Gia knew better than to try to compete with Margot. That wasn’t possible for someone who couldn’t take anything at face value. She had to question rules, challenge authority and play devil’s advocate at almost every opportunity, which was why she was surprised that her sister had been trying, for the past two weeks, to convince her to come home for the winter. Their mother’s health had been declining since she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer. It was at stage four before they discovered it, and the doctors had done what they could, but Ida hadn’t responded to treatment. Margot claimed their mother wasn’t going to last much longer, that Gia should spend a few months with her before it was too late. But Gia was surprised Margot would risk the peace and contentment they all seemed to enjoy without her.

Gia wasn’t sure she could go back to the same family dynamic she found so damaging, regardless. She and her business partner ran a helicopter sightseeing company for tourists and flew hunters and fishermen in and out of the remote wilderness—but Backcountry Adventures was closed during the coldest months, from November to February. She would soon have the time off, so getting away from work wouldn’t be a problem. It was more that when she was in Wakefield, the walls seemed to close in around her. It simply got too damn hard to breathe. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Don’t answer that question. But speaking of limitations, how’s Sheldon?”

“Seriously, Gia? I’m going to assume you didn’t mean to ask about him in that way,” her sister stated flatly.

There was no love lost between Gia and her brother-in-law. She hated the way he controlled Margot, how he could spend money on hunting or fishing or buying a new camper, but her sister had to scrape and bow for a new pair of jeans. Margot explained it was because he earned all the money, that he was trying to be a good “manager” by giving her such a tight budget so the business would be successful and they’d have money to retire in old age, but to Gia, it seemed that Margot was making all the sacrifices. Stingy was stingy, and yet he was the one who wanted Margot at home, waiting for him with a hot meal at the end of the day. Their boys, Matthew and Greydon, were eight and six, both in school. Margot could work part-time, at least, establish something of her own, if Sheldon wasn’t calling all the shots.

“It was a joke.” Gia really didn’t want to cause problems in her sister’s marriage. Margot insisted she was happy, although if that were her life, Gia probably would’ve grabbed her kids and stormed out of the house—for good—long ago.

“He’s doing great. He’s been busy.”

“It’s deer hunting season. I assume he’s going.”

“Next week.”

And what will you do—stay home and take care of the kids and the house while he’s gone? Gia wanted to ask, but this time she managed to bite her tongue. “He’s going to Utah again?”

“Yeah. They go there every year. One of his buddies grew up in Moab.”

“Last winter, Sheldon’s business slowed down a bit, so I’m surprised to hear you say he’s been busy.”

“That was the economy in general. All trucking companies took a hit. I don’t think the same thing’s going to happen this year, though. He just bought two new semis and is hiring more drivers.”

“He’s quite the businessman.” Gia rolled her eyes at her own words. He hadn’t built the trucking business; he’d inherited it from his parents, who remained heavily involved, which was probably what saved it from ruin. But thankfully, Margot seemed to take her words at face value.

“I’m proud of him.”

He was proud of himself, could never stop talking about his company, his toys, his prowess at hunting or four-wheeling or any other “manly” pursuit. Gia was willing to bet she could out-hunt him if she really wanted to, but the only kind of shots she was willing to take were with her camera.

Still, she was glad, in a way, that her sister could buy into the delusion that Sheldon was a prize catch. “That’s what matters,” she said as she pulled into the drive of her two-bedroom condo overlooking Mill River. The conversation was winding down. She’d already asked about the boys while she was in the grocery store—they were healthy and happy. She was going to have to ask about Ida before the conversation ended, so she figured she might as well get it over with. “And how are Mom and Dad?”

Her sister’s voice dropped an octave, at least. “That’s actually why I called…”

Gia couldn’t help but tense; it felt like acid was eating a hole in her stomach. “Mom’s taken a turn for the worse?”

“She’s getting weaker every day, G. I—I really think you should come home.”

Closing her eyes, Gia allowed her head to fall back against the seat. Margot couldn’t understand why Gia would resist. But she’d never been able to see anything from Gia’s perspective.

“G?” her sister prompted.

Gia drew a deep breath. She could leave Idaho a few weeks before they closed the business. Eric would cover for her. She’d worked

two entire months for him when his daughter was born. She had the money, too. There was no good excuse not to return and support her family as much as possible—and if this was the end, to say goodbye to her mother. But Gia knew that would mean dealing with everything she’d left behind.

“You still there?”

Gathering her resolve, Gia climbed out of the car. “Sorry. My Bluetooth cut out.”

“Did you hear me? Is there any chance you’d consider coming home, if only for a few weeks?”

Gia didn’t see that she had any choice. She’d never forgive herself if her mother died and she hadn’t done all she could to put things right between them. She wished she could continue procrastinating her visit. But the cancer made it impossible. “Of course. Just…just as soon as I finish up a few things around here.”

“How long will that take you?”

“Only a day or two.”

“Thank God,” her sister said with enough relief that Gia knew she couldn’t back out now.

What was going on? Why would having her in Wakefield matter so much to Margot?

“I’ll pick you up from the airport,” her sister continued. “Just tell me when you get in.”

“I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve made the arrangements.”

* * *

Margot studied the guns neatly lined up in her husband’s locked cabinet in their bedroom. He had several rifles—a .30-30 Winchester, a Remington Model 700, a .375 H&H Magnum, a .22 and what he called a “varmint” rifle—as well as a twelve-gauge shotgun. He also had a 9 mm Glock up high in their closet for home defense. That was what he’d leave behind when he went hunting. She’d have easy access to it, but it was the shotgun she coveted. She’d feel safest with the shotgun. She’d heard her husband say that pistols and rifles almost always take multiple shots to hit a target. They’d visited the gun range together, but because of the recoil and the deafening noise—and her fear of guns in general, especially having them around the children—she’d only practiced shooting once or twice. After that, Sheldon had deemed her a “nervous Nellie” and given up trying to share his love of firearms with her. But she’d learned enough to know she wouldn’t have to worry too much about aiming a shotgun.

Did she dare hide the shotgun so he couldn’t take it with him when he went hunting? She could act as though someone had broken in and taken it, say she’d left the house unlocked for a short, fifteen-minute interval while picking up the boys from school, and it was gone when she returned…

No. That would raise his suspicions. He’d wonder why that was the only thing missing, and she didn’t dare try to stage a full-fledged robbery. It would be too easy to get caught doing something like that. Sheldon was naturally suspicious—always looking out for how someone might put one over on him. With any luck, he wouldn’t see this coming, but she could only count on having one chance, which meant she had to craft the perfect plan, and that included providing for every eventuality.

Maybe she should forget about the shotgun and the Glock and settle for pepper spray or mace—something she could buy over the counter at Walmart. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about gun safety and would never be faced with the decision of whether or not she’d have to shoot her own husband…

“Margot? What the hell are you doing?”

Sheldon’s sudden appearance in the doorway sent her heart slamming against her chest. She was standing in the middle of the floor not far from the bed, which, fortunately, didn’t incriminate her in any way. She just had to hope she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. “I was…trying to remember why I came in here.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you. I swear, I have no idea how you graduated from college. Most of the time you’re dumber than dirt.”

Normally, Margot flinched at the insults he lobbed so casually, usually with a laugh so that if she took umbrage he could say he’d been joking. Today, she merely studied him for any evidence in his ice-blue eyes that a bigger argument was brewing. “What are you doing home?” she asked, checking her watch. These days, she lost minutes, even hours, ruminating over her future—and that of her children. But it couldn’t be late enough for Sheldon to be home from work. She’d never lost an entire day.

“Forgot my lunch. I’ve been trying to call you to have you bring it to me but couldn’t get an answer. Why the hell do I pay for you to have a cell phone if I can’t even reach you on it?”

“I-It’s in my purse,” she said lamely. “From when I took the boys to school.”

A disgusted huff revealed his irritation. “Of course it is. You never have it when you need it.”

“I usually have it,” she said in her own defense, but she was careful to keep the pique out of her voice. She knew how easily they could wind up in a fight if she didn’t.

He ignored her response. “My lunch isn’t on the counter. What’d you do with it?”

When he left it behind, she’d assumed he was going out with his friends. Although he’d gained quite a bit of weight over the years and made an occasional, half-hearted attempt to lose it, his diets never lasted. She’d assumed he no longer wanted the carrot sticks and other healthy food he’d directed her to start packing for him. “When you didn’t take it, I assumed you had other plans and—and put it in the boys’ lunches.”

His eyebrows snapped together. “So you wouldn’t have to make more? Jesus, woman! Why didn’t you just call me?”

Because she hadn’t wanted to hear his voice. The only peace she had was when he was at work and too caught up in being the “boss” to check in with her. “I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy.”

Lifting his Wakefield Trucking ball cap, he scratched underneath it before mumbling something she couldn’t quite make out—probably “stupid bitch”—as he trudged back down the hall. “Now what am I going to eat?” he called back to her when, judging by his voice, he’d reached the kitchen.

Margot curled her fingernails into her palms. She was having terrible thoughts lately—of wanting to put something gross, like a spider or dirt, in his sandwich, or something dangerous, like antifreeze, in his tea. She knew that was downright evil. Her upbringing and her belief in God had stopped her so far—that and she didn’t want to be yanked away from her children to spend the rest of her life in prison.

But the desire to hurt him in return was growing stronger by the day. That she could even consider such things—Margaret Rossi, salutatorian of her high school class and daughter of two loving parents who’d raised her to be much better than that—was shocking. It certainly wasn’t something she’d anticipated before she got married.

But was it really her fault? Sheldon was like a girdling tree with roots that had slowly wrapped around her over the years, trapping her and holding her in place while squeezing the life from her…

“Dammit, Margot! Didn’t you hear me? Get your ass out here and make me another lunch! I’ve got work to do!”

She wanted to scream Make it yourself! and slam the door. The anger simmering inside her was like bile rising in her throat. Sometimes it was all she could do to choke it back. But she knew what would happen if she let loose. He’d never struck her; she couldn’t claim that kind of abuse. But his fits of rage were getting worse—bad enough that she believed it was possible he might completely unleash one day.

Even if that didn’t happen, what he did was almost as bad. His words slugged her like fists. He belittled her to the point that she was afraid to say or do anything for fear of reprisal. And he made her feel as though she deserved every cutting remark.

That she was beginning to believe she wasn’t worthy of being treated any better created a panic that gnawed at her soul. If she didn’t do something soon, she was afraid the old Margot—the happy, well-adjusted Margot she was struggling to hang on to—would disappear for good.

It won’t be long now, she promised herself, and cast his guns a final glance as she forced her feet to carry her back to the kitchen. “I’m here,” she said woodenly. “What would you like?”

 

Chapter Two

Most of the people Gia associated with were men. There were a lot more of them in her business—both as competitors and clients—and there’d been more men than women in Alaska, where she’d spent ten years before moving to Idaho. But as the men she knew got married, she had the opportunity to meet their wives—and then their kids—which was nice because it broadened her social circle. Eric Cheung, who’d learned to fly in the military and been her flight instructor in Alaska before becoming her business partner, had met and then married his wife only six months after they’d moved Backcountry Adventures to Coeur d’Alene, so Gia was coming to know Coty well.

“I thought we were going to head back to Glacier once the season ended,” Eric said as they sat huddled around the fire pit he’d built in his backyard, holding a drink.

“I was looking forward to focusing on our photography, but—” Gia frowned up at the night sky “—who knows if the weather would even allow a trip to the park. Winter seems to be coming early this year.”

“That’s good,” he clarified. “We were after snow shots, remember?”

She did remember and regretted that she couldn’t follow through with their plans. He’d recently convinced a local gallery to carry his work and said he could probably get her in. But she couldn’t ignore what was going on in the rest of her life by heading to Glacier National Park on November 1 as they’d discussed. “I know, but…my mom’s taken a turn for the worse.”

He sobered instantly. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve been meaning to ask about her, but I didn’t want to keep probing that sore spot. The treatments aren’t working, then?”

“I think they’ve done all they can.”

Coty came out of the house after putting their daughter to bed. “What did I miss?”

“My mom isn’t doing well.”

“That’s terrible news.” She frowned as she sat down next to her husband, who shifted to put his arm around her and help keep her warm. They could’ve gone inside, but the one thing Gia had in common with the men she associated with was a love for the outdoors.

“It is. I wish that wasn’t the case, but…” Gia let her words trail off before taking the last sip of her beer.

“How long will you be gone?” Eric asked.

“I’m not sure. Shorter would be better. I have so much history there. But it’ll depend on how things go with my mom.”

Coty leaned forward to reclaim the wineglass she’d set aside when she left. “What kind of history are you talking about?”

That was hard to explain. Even Eric didn’t know. “Just people I’d rather not see and things I’d rather not remember.”

Coty’s forehead creased. “How long’s it been since you were there?”

“About six months. I can handle a short visit over the weekend here and there—one where my family is all I see. But this could be for the entire winter, until I have to return to help open Backcountry Adventures.”

“If you need to stay longer—” Eric started, but Gia cut him off.

“I’m hoping that won’t be necessary. You’re doing enough covering the rest of October. But…we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.”

“Well, if your mom needs you, you’ll be glad you went,” he said.

“I don’t know that she needs me. She has Margot. They’ve always been close, understand each other a lot better than she and I do. But…”

“Your mom’s your mom,” Coty said gently.

Gia nodded and got up to toss her can in the recycle bin a few steps away.

Eric followed her lead, the chink of his can hitting only seconds after hers. “Have you told Mike?”

Gia shifted on her feet, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Mike was an aviation maintenance technician—he serviced and repaired helicopters. She’d met him when he did a thorough inspection of their craft right after she moved to Coeur d’Alene, but it had only been lately, after his divorce, that they’d started dating. “Not yet.”

“He’ll be heartbroken,” Eric predicted.

“No, we’re not that far along in our relationship.” She’d been ready to bail out, anyway. She liked Mike as much or more than some of the other men she’d dated over the years. They both enjoyed flying and had a good time together. But she had a problem with intimacy. Getting close to someone required too much trust—more trust than she seemed capable of cobbling together. So whenever a romantic relationship began to grow serious, she’d break away and move on, and that usually only took a few months.

“Does he know that?” Eric asked wryly.

“I told him from the beginning that I’m not looking for anything serious, Eric. Believe me, he was warned.”

Eric laughed. “All that does is create a challenge, G. I’m sure he’s hoping he’ll be the one to change that.”

She settled back in her seat while Eric remained standing. “I don’t think anyone can change it. It’s just…me.”

“When will you be leaving?” Coty asked.

“As soon as possible. Margot’s in a panic, acts like she can’t wait for me to get there.”

“I bet she needs your support as much as your mother does,” Eric said.

Gia pursed her lips. “That could be true. She has such a crappy husband. I doubt he gives her much of anything.”

“You’ve talked about him before,” Eric responded with a laugh.

Gia crossed her legs. “I don’t understand why she doesn’t demand more from him.”

“I know Eric’s heard this, but I haven’t,” Coty said. “Why don’t you like him?”

“He’s an arrogant asshole,” Gia replied. “Thinks the world revolves around him.”

Eric moved closer to the fire and held his hands over the warmth. “He was raised with money. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“I wouldn’t define his parents as mega-wealthy, but his family was one of the more prosperous in town.”

“So he was spoiled?” Coty guessed.

Gia confirmed with a nod. “His parents still baby him.”

Eric cracked open another beer before sitting back down with his wife. “Surely there are people in your hometown you’d like to see.”

“My old friends and the people in my Banned Books Club.” She’d liked a lot of them, but it’d been seventeen years since high school and most had drifted away. She’d probably see those who remained—Ruth and Sammie at least.

“Coty’s been thinking about joining your club,” he said, once again slinging an arm around his wife.

“I’m always down for flipping off people who are trying to push their attitudes and opinions on others,” Coty said with a laugh. “What are you reading this month?”

“We’ve been picking from a list of books that were banned in the nineties, simply because there were so many back then. It was my turn this month, and I chose Cujo.”

“What’s that?” Eric said.

Gia chuckled. He’d never been a reader. “A horror novel by Stephen King.”

Tucking her feet underneath her, Coty leaned into her husband’s body. “And how’s that going for you?”

“It’s good. It’s about a dog who turns into a killer after being bitten by a rabid bat.”

“Not sure I’d find that interesting,” Coty said with a scowl.

“A killer dog’s not for everyone. But you can always start next month. We’ll be reading We All Fall Down by Robert Cormier.”

“What’s that about?”

“A gang of teenage boys who get into all kinds of trouble…”

“I bet that book’s going to be pretty disturbing,” she said, wrinkling her nose as if she wasn’t thrilled by that idea, either.

“Most banned books are pretty…something,” Gia said. “Scary. Thought-provoking. Challenging to the power paradigm—or the way things have always been. That’s why they get banned.”

Eric spoke up. “I read not too long ago that the Harry Potter books were banned.”

Gia considered opening another beer. The more she drank, the less she dreaded going home to Wakefield. Eric and Coty lived only a few blocks from her condo; she didn’t need to drive. But she decided against it. She wanted a clear head when she got back to her place so she could make her travel arrangements. “That’s right. In some places, anyway.”

“What could be wrong with Harry Potter?” Coty asked.

“Apparently, several exorcists weighed in,” she replied flippantly.

Coty looked confused. “Did you say exorcists?”

“I did. They recommended the books be taken off the shelves.” Gia grinned as she added, “Wizardry and magic are Satanic. Didn’t you know?”

Coty rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Nope. Now you understand why I started the group. Some of the books that have been denied were targeted for ridiculous reasons.”

“I love the way you’re willing to challenge authority,” she said.

Gia made a face. “My parents aren’t so excited about it. They never have been.”

“I bet.” Coty stared into the flames as she continued, “To be honest, I’m not sure I’d want Ingrid challenging authority. What I do is one thing. But what she does—”

“I’d be proud of her,” Eric broke in. “We might not always agree with the stances she takes, but there has to be someone willing to fight people who ban good books and do other stupid things.”

Coty didn’t look convinced. “But think of the backlash that goes with being the one to stand up and fight…”

“Maybe that’s what your parents were worried about,” Eric said to Gia. “The pain it might cause you to make yourself a target.”

Gia thought it was more about their desire to see her conform, to avoid making waves. They’d always wanted her to do what girls were “supposed” do to and quit drawing so much attention. But she didn’t want to go that deep tonight, so she simply said, “Maybe.”

Pulling his wife closer, Eric spoke over her head. “I hope you can finally resolve a few things.”

Gia doubted that was possible. She’d never been what her parents wanted. But, again, she didn’t care to explain. “That would be nice.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about Backcountry Adventures while you’re gone,” he added encouragingly. “I’ve got that. And a lot has probably changed at home over the years—more than you realize. As hard as it will be to see your mother in such poor health, I bet this trip will be good for you.”

“I can’t imagine that.” As far as she knew, Mr. Hart, her old English teacher, still lived just a few houses down from her parents. And she’d be staying, possibly for weeks or months, in her old room.

* * *

Margot circled the airport again as she waited for her sister to emerge with her luggage. Gia’s flight had been delayed. At this rate, they’d be late getting home, which would put off dinner and create a more difficult evening with Sheldon. He’d been so agitated lately, so irritable. If she had to call him and ask him to leave work even a few minutes early, so he could pick up the boys, it would trigger a fight. Matthew and Greydon were each playing at a friend’s house, but she’d promised both mothers she’d return by six.

Growing more and more anxious, she pulled over to text Gia again. Earlier, when her sister sent a message to say she’d be getting in at four and Margot had arranged playdates so the boys wouldn’t have to sit in the car for two or three hours, she’d never dreamed she might not be able to make it back in time. The Sioux Gateway Airport was only fifty miles from Wakefield.

At least the plane had finally landed. That was the last she’d heard from her sister. Any sign of your luggage?

Just grabbed it, came Gia’s quick response.

Margot breathed a sigh of relief. I’ll be right there.

With a glance at the clock on the dash—it was 4:50 p.m., which meant she might make it back in time if they didn’t get behind a tractor or something else that would slow them down—she merged back into the flow of traffic streaming toward the terminal and began to search for the rather tall figure of her sister. Although Margot was only five foot two, Gia was five foot ten. They were opposites even in that.

Gia waved as soon as she spotted Margot’s Subaru, and Margot eased over one lane at a time until she could reach the curb.

“How was the flight?” she asked as soon as she’d flung open her door and hurried to release the hatch for Gia’s suitcase.

“Long and miserable,” Gia replied, giving her an obligatory hug before loading up. “Is any flight enjoyable these days?”

“Not since 9/11.” Margot slammed the hatch before returning to the driver’s seat.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Gia said as she climbed in.

“Of course. I’m glad you’re here.” Gia looked good, Margot realized. Much better than she did. These days when she peered into the mirror, all she saw was a tense, troubled expression and dark bags under her hazel eyes.

But Gia… Although summer was over and had been for several weeks, no one would be able to tell by looking at her. Her skin still held a warm glow, and her strawberry blond hair had lighter streaks going through it from all the time spent in the sun. The sprinkling of freckles across her nose made her appear younger than her thirty-five years. And she was well-toned with a broad, engaging smile.

Margot did what she could to be attractive, scrimping on the grocery budget to be able to get eyelash extensions and fake nails. Sheldon expected her to look good, even though he’d have a fit if he knew how much those appointments cost. Gia didn’t bother with that kind of enhancement. She was too much of a natural, outdoorsy person. She looked wholesome, healthy and strong.

She was strong. Always had been. Margot envied her forthright manner, the way she tackled any obstacle in her path and overcame it. It was a relief to have her in Wakefield. Margot couldn’t escape her situation without her sister being around to support their father and help care for their mother. She’d been trying to muddle through the way things were, at least until Ida’s death, as sad as that would be. But no one could predict when their mother might pass, and Margot couldn’t bear her current situation any longer.

Besides, maybe she’d be smarter not to wait. She was afraid Ida’s death would pile so much grief on top of what she was already dealing with that she wouldn’t be able to overcome it. Her mental health wasn’t what it used to be. Recognizing that and acting before it was too late to recover from the long downward spiral that’d begun shortly after the birth of her second and last child, when her marriage had really begun to fall apart, was the best she could do.

So far, she’d mostly lived her life for other people. It was time she grabbed hold and started living for herself. And with her sister here, she had a better chance of doing that. Gia would take on Sheldon, if she had to. Gia would take on anyone.

“Do Mom and Dad know that I’m coming?”

Margot looked over at her. “You didn’t call them?”

“I haven’t had time,” her sister replied vaguely.

“To place a call?”

“It’s only been two days since I agreed to come! I was in a hurry, trying to take care of things so I wouldn’t leave Eric in the lurch. I had to prepare my condo for the winter, pack my bags and get a ride to the airport in Spokane. Every time I thought about calling them, it was night, and then I was afraid they’d be in bed asleep. It’s an hour later here than in Idaho, you know.”

That was sheer avoidance, and Margot knew it, but she didn’t care. Reinforcements had arrived. That was all that mattered. “Why didn’t you have Eric fly you over?”

“Because it was a lot easier to catch a commercial flight. I didn’t want to take up his time when he’ll be filling in for me as it is. And our helicopter only flies three hundred miles on a tank of gas, which means he’d have to find several places to refuel.”

“Makes sense,” Margot said.

“So…do you think Mom and Dad are going to be upset having me drop in on them?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “I’m sure they’ve been wondering why you haven’t come home before now.”

Her sister grimaced. “You’d think they’d know.”

Margot gripped the steering wheel tighter. “What’s going on is bad enough, G,” she said in the same placating tone she had to use with Sheldon. “Can we just…leave the past in the past? Please?”

Gia shot her an aggrieved look. “I’m perfectly willing to do that. It’s them, not me.”

“Even if that’s normally true, their minds are on something else these days. And I, for one, am relieved to have you.”

Loosening her seat belt, Gia twisted to face her. “The question is why, Margot? Why were you so determined to have me come home right now? In less than a month, my business will be closed for the winter. You don’t think Mom’s going to make it that long?”

Margot wished she could tell Gia the truth, but she was afraid of what her sister would do if she learned what Sheldon had turned into. She had no doubt Gia would confront him. She didn’t know how to be anything but direct, and Margot couldn’t see where challenging Sheldon would end well. “Maybe not. That’s the problem. They need you.” She glanced over to see how her words were being received. “And so do I,” she added more softly.

Gia must’ve heard the honesty in her voice, or something else defused her sister’s antagonistic feelings, because she seemed resigned when she responded, “I can’t imagine any of you need me, especially you. You’ve always done everything right.”

It was true. Margot had gotten good grades, graduated from college and chosen a man her parents approved of—someone she’d known in high school and then dated in college. A lot of women had wanted Sheldon, but she was the “lucky” girl he’d chosen. So how was it that she found herself in a marriage that seemed to be burning down around her and felt so miserable and hopeless all the time? “Shows what you know,” she muttered.

“What does that mean?” Gia asked.

Margot checked the clock against her speedometer, and succumbed to the pressure she was feeling by giving the vehicle more gas. “Just…help me out by taking care of Mom and Dad for a while, okay? You have to admit it’s your turn.”

At least Gia had the good grace not to argue that point. Margot had done a lot more for their parents. She was the one who’d stuck around for the past seventeen years while Gia had run off on her wild adventures. “That’s what I’m here for,” her sister said matter-of-factly and straightened in her seat.

* * *

When they reached their parents’ house, Gia was surprised Margot didn’t want to come in and say hello. She stopped just long enough to let Gia grab her suitcase before tearing out of the drive. Gia knew she had to pick up the boys, but would being five minutes late be that big a deal?

Maybe Margot wanted to avoid the awkwardness Gia herself was dreading as she approached the sliding glass door that looked in on the addition her father had built when they were kids.

She could see her parents sitting at the table eating dinner as she reached for the door handle—and braced for the moment they saw her. Part of the reason she’d been putting off coming home was facing her mother’s illness. It was one thing to hear about what Ida was going through; it was another to look her in the face during these final months, weeks or days. The reality of the situation hit Gia like a right hook as she noticed her mother’s dramatic hair and weight loss. Ida had never been a big person, but to see her so diminished…

A lump rose in Gia’s throat, threatening to choke her. It didn’t matter how difficult and complicated their relationship had been; seeing her mother like this was even worse than she’d anticipated. She realized she’d been stoking the fire of her anger and resentment as a defense mechanism to ward off the pain of Ida’s illness—but by doing that, she’d abandoned her mother to face cancer without even the limited support she could give. A very brief trip now and then just wasn’t enough.

“Dammit,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes closed and hanging her head. Her sister was right. She was a terrible person, had let them all down—and it was because she couldn’t bear to see what was happening.

Her father glanced up and the next thing she knew he was walking toward the slider with a shocked expression on his face. “Gia?” she could hear him say through the door.

She yanked on the handle to open it and forced a smile. “Hi, Dad.”

“What are you doing here?”

The lump in her throat would not recede no matter how many times she swallowed. She blinked, trying to hold back the tears that were filling her eyes. “Just…decided to come home for the winter.”

“For the winter?” her mother echoed. Ida was moving more slowly, but she was now on her feet, as well, and coming to the door.

Gia had planned on saying she’d only be home for a week or two. She’d wanted to set their expectations low, so she’d have an escape if she needed it. But the sight of her parents, who’d aged more than she’d realized, and just the smell of home, had changed her mind. In that moment she knew she’d stand by her family until the bitter end, no matter what it cost her. “If you don’t mind me moving back into my old room,” she said with what she could manage by way of a chuckle.

She tensed as she waited for their response. There was a chance they wouldn’t want their lives disrupted at this vulnerable time. But her father seemed relieved to have her home. No doubt the past two years had been a nightmare for him, watching the slow demise of the woman he loved. Her mother just seemed grateful.

“Really?” Ida said. “Well, isn’t that nice! IfI never dreamed you’d be able to do that.”

“What about your business?” her father asked as a rapid follow-up.

Gia bent to pick up Miss Marple, her mother’s gray-and-white cat, who’d roused herself from a nap on the other end of the sofa to jump down and say hello. “Eric will cover the next few weeks. Then it’ll be closed for winter.”

“But your photography,” he said. “Last we heard you were going to Glacier National Park to take some photographs.”

She’d sent them some of her work, knew they both liked it. “Eric can do that on his own for now,” she said as she put Miss Marple back down. “He’s a great photographer.”

“That’s wonderful!” her father exclaimed. “Of course you can have your old room. It’s still filled with all the stuff you left behind. We haven’t touched it.”

Her mother felt like a bag of bones as Gia embraced her.

“Does that mean you’ll be here for Christmas?” she asked.

“It does,” Gia replied. The question was whether Ida would be there for Christmas.

“Come in.” Her father gestured toward the kitchen. “We’ve got dinner on the table. You want some spaghetti?”

The menu meant her father had cooked. Spaghetti had been his one and only dish when she was growing up. “Are you sure you have enough?”

“We have plenty,” he replied. “Your mother hardly eats these days.”

Again, Gia felt like crying. All the defenses she’d worked hard to erect had crumbled in an instant. Seeing her mother so frail and wasted was just too heartbreaking. The last six months especially had taken a toll. “Well, we’ll see what she thinks of some of the things I make.”

Suddenly moving with more energy, her mother hurried back into the kitchen to set another plate.

As Gia started to follow, her father caught her arm. “Thank you for coming,” he murmured, which made her hate herself all the more for not being there sooner.

“Of course,” she said, suddenly grateful to her sister for pressing her. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

 

Chapter Three

Dinner was late, but it wasn’t Margot’s trip to the airport that caused it. The mother of Matthew’s playdate had wanted to show her a quilt she was making and was so eager to chat that Margot couldn’t get away. Panic had risen inside her as the other woman continued to drone on about the various kinds of patterns she used and how she was thinking about selling her work online, but Margot had learned not to let on that she was under so much pressure. Someone who wasn’t in her situation wouldn’t understand, and making Sheldon “look bad” was a cardinal sin.

Fortunately, Sheldon arrived home even later than she did. He said “someone” had dropped by the office and held him up for a few minutes. He didn’t say who, which was what made her guess.

“Was it Cecilia Sonderman?” she asked.

He was washing his hands in the kitchen sink—something she’d asked him not to do many times.

“Yeah.” He sent her a sharp glance. “How’d you know?”

Cece had been sniffing around for a couple of months now, and Margot could tell Sheldon was flattered by the attention. She suspected he also enjoyed the opportunity to try to make her jealous, because he was the one who’d let on that Cece was still interested in him. He threw it at her whenever he did something that upset her—to let her know there were other women waiting in the wings, she supposed. It should’ve galled her that his high school sweetheart, who’d only recently divorced her husband and moved back to town, was seeking him out. But as far as Margot was concerned, they couldn’t fall in love fast enough. Then maybe he’d be distracted when she left. Perhaps Cece would even be decent enough to try to talk some sense into him. Let her go. Let her live her life. You’ve got me…

Or maybe Cece would become the next victim of his demanding and controlling nature. Margot was tempted to warn her that he wasn’t what he appeared to be—she felt bad for any woman who might fill her shoes—but she couldn’t take the risk. Not when it could get back to him and blow her chance to leave.

Cece would have to look out for herself; she had no business making a play for a married man in the first place.

“Just a guess,” she said mildly.

“We’re friends. That’s all. Nothing’s going on.” He sounded defensive even though there’d been no accusation in her voice.

“Of course.”

He gave her a funny look. Maybe he was surprised by her naivete. Or maybe he could tell it wasn’t naivete—that it was absolute indifference. But she’d done nothing to make an issue of his tardiness or the reason he’d been late, so even he seemed hard-pressed to find a reason to get angry over their latest exchange.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Starving.”

“Good. I’ve made your favorite meal.”

He seemed slightly perplexed again; no doubt he knew he’d been awful to her of late and didn’t deserve special treatment. “Shepherd’s pie?”

She’d also made a pot roast. He liked both. Had he said pot roast, she would’ve served it to him and saved the shepherd’s pie for tomorrow. The past two days she’d been doubling up on the cooking and planned to freeze the extra. She was trying to get ahead so she could spend some time with her family, especially her mother, before she had to escape and eke out a new life. “Yep.”

“Sounds good.” He sat at the head of the table and read the news on his phone while she got the kids in their seats and the food on the table.

“How was work today?” she asked as she took his plate and dished up a generous portion of shepherd’s pie—originally her mother’s recipe.

Sheldon barely glanced up from his phone. “It was okay.”

“Anything happen?”

Irritated that she continued to interrupt him, he scowled. “Was something supposed to happen?”

She’d been looking for an opportunity to tell him Gia was in town, but he’d only complain about the gas money she’d spent driving to Sioux City, so she wasn’t planning to volunteer that she’d been involved unless he specifically asked. Let him think their father had picked her up—or that she’d taken an Uber. “No,” she said, backpedaling. “I was just…asking about your day.”

“I got to go to Nathan’s!” Matthew piped up, eager to talk even if his father wasn’t.

Not to be outdone, Greydon joined in, “And I got to go to Jimmy’s!”

“Great. I’m happy for both of you.” Sheldon pointed at their plates. “Now quit playing with your food and eat.”

Matthew scowled at the small mound of pie Margot had dished up for him. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s good for you.” Sheldon shoveled another huge bite into his own mouth. “Eat it.”

Their oldest son slumped in his seat. “I hate green beans!”

The look that entered Sheldon’s eyes caused the hair on the back of Margot’s neck to stand on end. So far, he hadn’t treated the boys too badly. Although he was stern and demanded to be obeyed, he reserved the worst of his temper for her.

But as Matthew got older and tried to establish his own will, she could see that changing. It was one of the things that gave her sufficient motivation to leave, despite the sacrifices she’d have to make. Sheldon refused to be challenged by a woman or a child. If she didn’t do something to change the future, she could see Matt one day being on the receiving end of the badgering and belittling she had to endure—and that was if Sheldon didn’t break down and do worse.

“There are kids just like you starving in Africa,” he said. “Be glad you got something to eat.”

“Just eat everything around the beans,” Margot muttered, hoping to defuse the situation. But all that did was draw Sheldon’s attention to her.

“Don’t undermine my authority,” he snapped. “If I tell him to eat something, he’d better do it.”

Matthew flinched at his father’s steely tone. “What happens if I can’t?” he asked, worry filling his eyes.

“You’ll sit there until you do,” his father pronounced.

“I’ll eat them for you!” Greydon, who looked almost like a clone of his older brother with thick dark hair and big brown eyes, demonstrated how much he liked them by picking one out of his mashed potatoes and stuffing it into his mouth.

Sheldon arched an eyebrow at Greydon. “Matthew will eat his own.”

What Sheldon was demanding wasn’t exactly Machiavellian. There were worse punishments than sitting at a table until you’d consumed four green beans. Knowing it was best to support her husband when she could, Margot nodded. “Your father’s right, Matt. It can’t be that hard to choke down a few beans.”

“If I throw up, it’s not my fault,” he grumbled.

Margot hoped that wouldn’t happen. Sheldon would interpret it as a voluntary act—a refusal to obey—and punish him by taking away something he loved, like saying he couldn’t play baseball this year. She and the boys wouldn’t be around long enough for baseball season, but Matt didn’t know that, so it would definitely upset him.

Hoping to give her son a chance to come to terms with eating all his dinner, she reached over and smoothed the hair out of his eyes while changing the subject. “I was thinking we’d have pot roast tomorrow. Does that sound good? Everyone likes pot roast.”

Her husband was once again focused on his phone and didn’t seem to hear her. At least, he didn’t respond—but then he jerked his head up and pinned her to her seat with a baleful glare. “Did you know your sister’s in town?”

Margot lowered her eyes to her plate as though intent on taking her next bite. “She let me know she was coming. Who told you she was already here?”

“My mother has a friend who quilts with her. She stopped by your folks’ place to drop off a pumpkin pie. Said Gia was there.”

“It’s about time Gia came home,” Margot said, mostly as a deflection. “I’ve been after her for months.”

“Aunt Gia?” Matthew perked up, but Sheldon didn’t give her the chance to respond.

“She thinks she’s pretty cool flying that helicopter into the wilderness,” Sheldon said. “She loves her business so much I’m surprised she’d leave it.”

“Backcountry Adventures closes for four months every winter,” Margot explained.

“Not during hunting season, it doesn’t.”

“She has a partner, right? He must be covering for her until the first of November.”

“That means she might be here for a while? A couple of weeks, at least?” He didn’t sound pleased.

“I’m not sure what her plans are, exactly. You know Gia. She hasn’t spent much time in Wakefield since she left—just a few days here and there a couple times a year. But with Mom being sick…that could change things.”

“She doesn’t care about your mom or she would’ve been here a lot more over the past months,” he said matter-of-factly. “I bet she doesn’t stay a week.”

Margot hoped her sister would stay a lot longer than that. She couldn’t disappear if Gia didn’t stay, and that worried her. Gia could be so mercurial. She refused to be caged in by the expectations of others—by anything, really. Margot had always envied her that and wondered why she was built so differently. “You could be right.”

(…)