Between Friends
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Part 1
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 2
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 3
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 4
ALI
CORA
Part 5
ALI
CORA
Part 6
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 7
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 8
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 9
ALI
CORA
Part 10
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 11
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 12
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 13
ALI
LETTY
CORA
Part 14
ALI
Part 15
ALI
LETTY
ALI
READERS GUIDE
More praise for CATCHING GENIUS
“With precise and evocative prose, Kristy Kiernan weaves a story of family and history that is as nuanced and finely wrought as it is compelling. Catching Genius draws you in with its genuine characters, and it holds you there with its truthful exploration of the enduring bonds of love and family . . . This affecting novel shines a new light on the concept of genius—what it is and what it isn’t. And speaking of genius, Kristy Kiernan looks like a debut novelist who will be around for a long time to come.”
—Elizabeth Letts, author of Family Planning
“A moving novel about forgiveness and the fragility of family.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Catching Genius is the total package; a beautiful story beautifully told. Kristy Kiernan pulls you into a deep and fully realized world; exactly the place a reader wants to be taken.”
—Lorna Landvik, New York Times bestselling author of The View from Mount Joy
“Catching Genius is simply mesmerizing, not only because it expertly captures the unbreakable bond between sisters. The novel also explores the many facets of very real characters, breathing life into the seamlessly plotted story line. This author’s first novel is a must-read for women’s fiction fans of all ages.”
—BookPage
“Kristy Kiernan’s fluent storytelling and fully-drawn, credible characters make for an affecting novel. With effortless grace, her lyrical prose drops the reader into scenes rich with details and powerful emotions. Catching Genius is a stunning debut that will leave readers of Jodi Picoult and Anita Shreve clamoring for more from this talented author.”
—Tasha Alexander, author of A Poisoned Season
“Catching Genius is the real thing: a rich, compelling, and deeply nuanced story delivered in language that’s as luminous as it is authoritative. To judge by this affecting first novel, I’d say Kiernan’s the real thing, too.”
—Jon Clinch, author of Finn
“A warm, moving novel about the power of familial bonds.”
—Booklist
“In her beautifully written debut novel Catching Genius, Kristy Kiernan portrays the complexity of familial relationships with a depth, candor, and insight that can only be called exceptional.”
—Sandra Kring, author of Thank You for All Things
“Kristy Kiernan deftly captures the complicated relationship between sisters and succeeds in showing the ways families can make us crazy and angry and lost, but ultimately, how families can and do save us. With her fine eye for detail and obvious love of the beach, math, and music, Kiernan draws the reader in to a family and lets us revel in a summer that reconciles the pain of their past and provides a glimpse of their hopeful future.”
—Judy Merrill Larsen, author of All the Numbers
“What is there not to like about this novel? A beach setting. Love and heartbreak. Regret and redemption. And a plot with surprising twists and turns that will leave your hankie damp and your heart feeling good.”
—Ad Hudler, author of Man of the House
“Kiernan writes about family, forgiveness, and the allure of the Gulf Coast with authority and assurance, producing a smoothly plotted story peppered with revelations that lead to a rousing, heartfelt finish.”
—Mostly Fiction
Praise for MATTERS OF FAITH
“Gripping.”
—Miami Herald
“Matters of Faith was so good and true and real that I forgot I was reading a book. I felt as though I was standing helplessly beside good people whose ordinary family life is slowly, inexorably tumbling into the darkness of the unknown.”
—Jacquelyn Mitchard
“Tense, well-paced . . . The thoughtful themes, interesting characters, and page-turning drama of this novel will likely make it a book club favorite.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Kiernan’s stunning second novel explores how one family reacts to a devastating tragedy . . . Unforgettable and moving, [Matters of Faith] is an achingly real portrait of a family in crisis, one readers will react to passionately.”
—Booklist
“Kiernan’s compelling narrative offers a heartbreaking study of the fragility of family ties.”
—St. Petersburg Times
BERKLEY TITLES BY KRISTY KIERNAN
Between Friends
Matters of Faith
Catching Genius
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2010 by Kristy Kiernan.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group
(USA) Inc. The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley trade paperback edition / April 2010
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kiernan, Kristy.
Between friends / Kristy Kiernan.—Berkley trade pbk. ed. p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-40426-3
1. Motherhood—Fiction. 2. Best friends—Fiction. 3. Female friendship—Fiction. 4. Life change event—Fiction. 5. Frozen human embryos—Fiction. 6. Human embryo—Transplantation—Moral and ethical aspects—Fiction. 7. Domestic fiction. I. Title.
PS3611.I4455B47 2010
813’.6—dc22
2009043931
http://us.penguingroup.com
Dedicated to the memory of
My granddaddy, Robert E. Smith
1920 -2008
My grandmother, Mildred Marguerat Claiborne
1921-2009
And the best dog ever, Niko
1997-2008
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As you can tell from the dedications, life during the writing of Between Friends was dark. But the following people made things easier and provided light, and I am in their debt:
My agent, Anne Hawkins.
My editor, Jackie Cantor.
My publicist, Kathryn Tumen.
And the entire Berkley team: publisher Leslie Gelbman, editorial director Susan Allison; managing editor Jessica McDonnell, editorial assistant Niti Bagchi, copyeditor Amy J. Schneider, and the art, text design, marketing, and publicity departments all contributed to making this book the best it could be.
For their support, professionally and personally, thank you to Tasha Alexander, Montese Miller Crandall, Amy MacKinnon, J. D. Rhoades, and Janna Underhill. Your friendship is an honor.
Thank you to the following for their selfless contributions: photo goddess Amy Nichols; Toastie blogger, kidney patient, and animal lover David Seidman; angels of the North Naples Dialysis Center: Jeanetta Tepper, Pam Hall, and Emmanuela Baptiste; and Associate Professor John C. Orr of the University of Portland.
My appreciation to both the Kiernan and Claiborne families, and additional thanks to Elizabeth and Russ for their many kindnesses over the years, as well as to Natalie Cox Watts, who cracks me up and produced the most adorable, brilliant child ever: Ian.
My favorite book club, The Divas of Naples, is a source of inspiration and grand examples of the kind of woman I want to grow up to be.
Finally, my heartfelt gratitude to my husband, Richard Kiernan, for his loving support, sense of humor, and unwavering belief in me and in our life together.
1
ALI
Hope is selfish and hungry, even when you believe you have given it exactly what it wants. And what it wants, always, is a miracle. Most people only get one, if they’re lucky.
I was lucky; I got Letty.
Thirty-two matted and framed stories on us—newspaper clippings, magazine articles, even a People magazine cover—spanned the wall just inside our bedroom door, tracing the path Benny and I, and Cora, took to create our family.
The Miracle Wall started its life in the living room. When Letty was a little girl, we sat in front of it on her birthday, and I would tell her the story of her conception. By the time she was in second grade she could explain in vitro fertilization as well as I.
When we had visitors, she would pull them by the hand, pointing to the People cover, herself as a baby tucked in between Cora and me, our heads tilted together, grinning as if we’d both just won the lottery, with the bright pink caption, “Two Women, One Miracle,” and under that, “How Modern Medicine Is Making Mothers.”
Letty lost interest in the Miracle Wall almost three years ago, just before she turned twelve. In fact, she became so dramatically embarrassed by it that I moved it into our bedroom. I’d been staring at it steadily ever since, slowly feeding the ravenous hope, letting it grow.
And now I was ready for a second miracle.
The day I finally came to my decision was the same day Todd Jasper’s house blew up. Benny was a detective with the financial crimes unit, but the Jasper house had been in his old neighborhood, and he didn’t come home for almost forty-eight hours. And when he did, he carried such rage within him over the loss of a teenager he didn’t even know, that I couldn’t possibly bring up what I had been thinking about.
But now, two months later, two months of Benny’s unpredictable anger alternating with silence, I could wait no longer. I’d passed forty, and time was not on our side. I even thought it might snap him out of his funk, would help him find his way back to the sweet, if occasionally moody, man I married.
I’d chosen my day, gazed at the wall for strength, prepared my speech, and then Benny walked in . . . in uniform.
For a minute all I could do was stare at him.
“Benny?”
“Yeah.”
He looked down the length of his body as if he were as surprised as I to see it encased in uniform rather than a suit.
“What have you done?”
“I didn’t—I didn’t think it would come through this fast. I—”
“You what?” I interrupted, all the anger he’d vibrated with for the past two months suddenly flashing through me, as though it had just been looking for a solid place to land. “You didn’t think? You didn’t think?”
And he shut down. I could see it happen. He pressed his lips together and strode across the bedroom and into the closet, slamming his hand against the doorjamb as he passed it. I jumped as the impact made the wall shudder.
“Are you planning on talking to me?” My voice carried, higher and more desperate than I expected.
He ignored me and unlocked his gun safe, stored his equipment, and changed his clothes, hanging the uniform carefully.
“Benny?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to,” I insisted. “What happened?”
Benny was a good cop, a great cop. The idea that he’d been demoted wouldn’t settle in me. Demotions didn’t come from out of the blue. There were lengthy procedures, accusations of impropriety or ineptitude.
He walked past me, and I reached out, but he stepped just out of range and my arm was left hanging in midair, connecting with nothing but the empty space between us.
“Benny, what happened?” I demanded of his retreating back.
He stopped for a moment but didn’t turn around. “It was my choice, all right? I asked to go back. I just didn’t think it would happen so fast. I’ve gotta go feed the birds.”
And just like that, with hardly a word, Benny was back to being a patrol cop.
Who did the man talk to? That was what I really wanted to know. In the beginning there were a lot of cop friends, a lot of cop families. Death, divorce, firings, promotions, demotions—they all took their toll.
Benny had slowly reduced his circle of confidantes over the years until, as far as I knew, there were none left. Apparently, not even me. The frustrating part was that he’d never wanted to be a detective to begin with. He’d wanted to be a street cop from eighth grade on. And I was fine with that. I married him being fine with that. I’d never been a cop groupie until Benny became a cop.
I was a Benny groupie.
He got promotions, and he got awards, and when he decided he’d like to become a detective, we talked about it. And I supported him, though I admit I missed the uniform.
And now it was back.
But where the hell was Benny?
Because I didn’t recognize the man who had just been in our bedroom, refusing to speak to me. And his timing couldn’t have been worse.
For years I’d been working this out, watching our daughter grow into an independent, occasionally sullen young woman, and becoming increasingly aware of time moving forward. And always thinking of them.
The embryos.
My totsicles, waiting for me.
I was ready. I was ready t
o talk about it, and he’d blown my timing out of the water.
Though I supposed if he could spring something on me out of the blue, I shouldn’t have felt such a need to broach things delicately. One good surprise deserved another. And it was too late to stop it. I was full up with it, too rehearsed to halt it.
As he made his way through the living room, heading to the backyard to tend to his birds, I took a deep breath and let it rest in my lungs a moment, allowing my voice one last chance to change its mind. It didn’t.
“I want another baby.”
The gritty rumble of the sliding glass door stopped for a moment, and then resumed, slowly, firmly easing closed.
I saw a flash of red swoop down from one of the magnolia trees. The cardinals knew Benny was home. He would be out there for at least an hour, filling the feeders, spraying out the baths, studiously ignoring the birds so they’d trust him.
It didn’t matter; I’d said it. I grimly poured a glass of wine. I’d need to quit drinking, of course, and needed to start eating better, too. Oh, oh now that I’d said it, the lists I’d been making subconsciously came and flung themselves at me, one task loading itself on top of the last like pages chattering out of my printer.