A month later, the sound of Nick’s screams as we flew over the cliff aren’t quite as deafening. I don’t see the flash of the guardrail every time I close my eyes. I don’t remember my head hitting the driver’s-side window each night when I lay it on my pillow. The memories of the crash have subsided slightly.
But the vivid details of Nick’s words, those memories—they could live with me forever.
Beth was horrified when I told her the story in the hospital—then enraged. She said she would’ve killed him if he hadn’t already been dead.
“You knew something wasn’t right with him. You tried to tell me,” I said to her.
“I was being protective, but I had no idea what he was capable of. My God. No one could have known that.”
Then I told her what I couldn’t reconcile no matter how many times the thought passed through my mind. “He said he did it for me—that he killed them for me,” I said. “How am I supposed to live with that?” I whispered.
“I don’t know,” Beth said. “I wish I did, but I don’t. But I will be here for you as we figure it out.”
“Why couldn’t I see it?” I blinked through my tears. “Am I that much of an idiot?”
“No, you were mourning James.”
“Who was dead because of Nick! I wish I had made different choices—if I hadn’t ruined things with James, he would still be here.”
“Jacks . . .” She trailed off, the skin between her eyes gathering as she thought. “At some point you’re going to have to let yourself off the hook.”
“I can’t do that.” I said. “James is dead because of me.”
“I could never pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I can tell you this—it is not your fault. And hopefully, after some time, you’ll see that—that you weren’t in control of what happened. That you didn’t make James have an affair. Or make Nick do what he did,” Beth said, her eyes filling with tears.
I shook my head gingerly. “No, you don’t understand. I deserve this. To live with what I’ve caused.” I rolled over, my back to her, and cried silently until I fell asleep.
And now, thirty days later, I’m still working to believe what Beth said. Intellectually, I understand I didn’t kill anyone. But my actions started a ripple effect that ended with three people dead. My therapist tells me if I stop blaming myself, if I stop being mad at myself, that I will have to deal with the real pain. The real loss. And that’s what I’m hiding from. But my therapist also says that I will come to terms with what’s happened—with her help, but also at my own pace. And that’s okay. She helped me talk to the police about what happened. She sat with me while I recounted the story for what I hoped would be the last time for a while. And she listened to me sob hysterically after they ended their investigation and told me that, after talking with Briana and some of Nick’s coworkers, and looking at flight records and talking with people in Maui, that Nick had, in fact, been there during the exact dates Dylan and James were. And, although they couldn’t prove he’d pricked that brake line of the Jeep, they believed he had.
I took a leave of absence from work. And I’m in the process of putting my house on the market. My therapist also warned me not to undergo too much change at once, but I’ve found that it’s helped me take my mind off things—at least a little bit. And she does agree a fresh start will be good for me.
I’m searching James’s desk for some paperwork the real estate agent needs when I see it.
The heart-shaped tin.
It holds our letters. The ones James and I wrote to each other in the beginning of our relationship. The ones I couldn’t find.
I thought it was gone.
I slowly remove the lid. I exhale when I see James’s messy handwriting jumping off the pages. “I wonder why he had these?” I say to myself as I read the one on the top of the stack—the first note he ever sent me, when his love for me radiated off the page in deep waves, making me laugh and cry at the same time.
Jacks,
I should start this letter by telling you that you’re like a fine wine—you know, because of how we met. But you’d just call my bullshit, I know it. So I’ll tell you something else, something I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that day. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and you are going to change me in amazing ways. I can’t wait to see what happens next with us. And yes, I am writing US, even after such a short time together. Because there’s no going back to my lonely Lucky Charms life now. The only life I want is the one with you in it.
I feel a warmth run through my body, realizing he had read this one recently too. Had he sought these letters out to dispose of them as he began his new life with Dylan? Or had he been rethinking his choices? Rethinking us—his life with me in it?
I’ll never know for sure. But I’m choosing to believe he knew we had simply lost our way, that our love wasn’t the kind to disappear. Like the sun behind a cloud, it would still peek out from time to time.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing The Good Widow was an amazing experience. (And we aren’t just talking about the research trip we took to Maui while crafting it!) Suspense is something we’ve been wanting to write for a long time. And we are incredibly thankful to Danielle Marshall at Lake Union for giving us the opportunity to spread our wings with something new. And Dennelle Catlett, your publicity support has been amazing. And Kathleen Zrelak at Goldberg McDuffie—you are always a huge cheerleader. And to our editor, Tiffany Yates Martin—your smart observations were spot on and made this book better than we could have imagined! Thanks to everyone at Amazon Publishing for making us feel special.
Elisabeth Weed! Your unwavering belief buoys us. Your notes on this novel made it shine, and as always, you steered our career in the right direction. Thank you for all of your awesomeness. Dana Murphy—we are so appreciative of everything you do!
To the wonderful bloggers and reviewers who tirelessly champion books and literacy in general—we hope you realize the tremendous positive effect you have on authors and readers alike. Thanks to each and every one of you. You are making a difference. And a special shout-out to Andrea Katz for being one of our earliest readers. Your feedback was invaluable.
And of course, we can’t forget you—the readers. The ones who generously read our novels. We hope you come with us as we try something new. We are nothing without each and every one of you. Thank you!
The island of Maui is one of our favorite places in the world. We’ve vacationed together with our families, and when we took the trip to Maui and drove the road to Hana, we didn’t do it just for the fruity cocktails and gorgeous beaches. We wanted to make sure we got everything exactly right. Thank you to the lovely Hawaiian people who helped inspire this book.
To our friends and family—you are the best! Thank you for attending our book events and listening to the same stories dozens of times. We promise to come up with some new material soon!
To our husbands, Mike and Matt—you have both been so patient, especially when we tell you we want to book a research trip to Hawaii two weeks before we do it. (Oops.) Now is probably the time to tell you the next book is set in Mexico . . . You let us ride out this dream, and for that, we are forever grateful. We love you guys.