Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
“Then she’s the delusional one. I’m sorry, Donna, but the truth is the truth.” I placed my palms on her desk and leaned forward to look her in the eyes. “Violet wanted me to wait until they were both gone, then tell the world their story. That’s what I intend to do.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m writing a book based on Violet’s life.”
“No you’re not. Not with information you gained by working here. There are confidentiality issues, Ronni.” She glared at me. “Get back to work and forget your book idea if you want to keep your job.”
I fought back tears. Donna could be moody, but had never spoken to me harshly. I closed her door and went back to trying to concentrate on my patients. I’d become immersed in Violet’s teenaged world over the past week and written thousands of words. I couldn’t stop thinking about the chapters I’d finished and those waiting for me. No matter what Donna said or thought, I would not stop. The book had taken on a life of its own, waking me with ideas to be jotted down each morning.
By the time five o’clock arrived I was more than ready to leave Fairfield Springs. I said goodbye to Kait in the parking lot and spotted Ruby, still sporting her sad dent. I needed to get her to the body shop soon. There was a folded slip of official-looking yellow paper under the windshield wiper. This was perfect—a subpoena and a traffic citation in one day. I unfolded it carefully.
Dear Ronni,
I couldn’t help but notice how many times you haven’t called me. I’m still hoping for that rib dinner. Hell, I’ll eat some prissy kind of chicken if I have to. I’d really like to see you.
Rick
My hands started to shake, my knees felt like jelly, and I smiled bigger than I had in years. I drove home watching for highway patrol cars, at least fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit.
eight
VIOLET
Violet’s diary reflected more sadness than joy through the rest of senior year. Graduation was two weeks off. She’d barely managed to pass Biology and Algebra, but would be crossing the stage with her classmates. When she consulted her mirror—and she did often—an eighteen-year-old woman returned her gaze.
Johnny had not returned to school. His parents hired a series of tutors to ensure he’d graduate. It was rumored he’d accept his diploma in a wheelchair.
Violet hadn’t heard a word from him. The one time she worked up the nerve to ask the operator to ring the Perkins’ number, his father said Johnny was not accepting calls.