Chapters (27)
- Cover
- By Taylor Jenkins Reid
- Dedication
- Author’s Note
- December 29, 1984
- Seven Years Earlier
- Summer 1980
- December 29, 1984
- Fall 1980
- Spring 1981
- June 1981
- July 1981
- December 29, 1984
- August 1981
- Fall 1981
- Winter 1982
- Summer 1982
- Summer 1983
- Fall 1983
- Spring and Summer 1984
- Fall 1984
- The Day Before
- December 29, 1984
- Acknowledgments
- Further Reading
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Joan tried not to laugh as Frances’s body sank under the weight of it all.
“I can carry that, babe,” she said, taking the backpack off.
“I didn’t know what she’d need for camping,” Barbara said.
Joan held back a smile. “You did great. I’ve borrowed a tent from Harrison, who can’t go. And I have sleeping bags from when we would lie out under the stars at Brazos. So we are all set. But all of this is helpful, too.”
“It’s too much!” Frances exclaimed as she took off her vest and got into Joan’s front seat.
Barbara whispered so low that Joan had to lean in to hear her: “This is the sort of stuff I worry about. She doesn’t know how to camp. She doesn’t know any of this stuff. Without a father around.”
Joan was unsure of the details, but apparently Scott was already out of the picture. She’d heard as much from Frances.
“Oh, Barbara, she’ll be fine. Really.”
“I just don’t want her to miss out on anything, or feel left behind,” Barbara said.
“Hey, you and me, we got her, all right?” Joan said. “We always have, always will.”
Barbara nodded. “Yeah, and maybe Dad should fly out more, spend more time with her.”
“I think that’s a great idea—I think both Mom and Dad would love that.”
Barbara waved goodbye to Frances and then made her put down her window so she could give her a kiss. “Don’t roll your eyes,” Barbara said. “I have given up my entire life to raise you. You can give me one damn kiss.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Frances said. She kissed Barbara on the cheek and then said, to both Barbara and Joan, “Can we go now?”
—
Donna and Joan set up Joan’s tent while Lydia set up her own. Most of the kids were playing nearby, while others were on the fishing dock. Frances had already run off with Duke and Kris’s oldest daughter, Julie, and Steve and Helene’s eleven-year-old, Patty. Patty was teaching the younger girls how to stain rocks by crushing flower petals on them.
As Joan pressed a stake into the ground, she tried to pretend she didn’t hear Vanessa’s voice behind her, coming up from the parking lot. Vanessa was with Steve, unloading food from the back of Duke’s truck. Joan could not bring herself to turn and look at her. For the past few weeks, Joan had not been able to look Vanessa in the eye.
“You need to shove that stake in more or this whole thing’s gonna blow over with a fart,” Donna said.
Joan rolled her eyes and stomped on the stake, driving it farther into the ground.
“Thanks for the tip.”
“You’re lucky I love you and put up with all your half-assed tent making,” Donna said.