Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Praise for A Season for Second Chances
- Also by Jenny Bayliss
- Dedication
- 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
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Discussion Guide
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Not in the office.”
“If you need to be hammered to make a sale, you’re in the wrong career.”
“Tell me about it! So, what about you, what’s next?”
“I’ve got a job at St. Thomas’s. I’ll spend a couple of years getting more experience, save some money, and then I’ll head back out to Africa. I feel like I’m really needed there.”
Nory smiled. “You always were the best of us,” she said, meaning it.
“You need to give yourself a break,” said Tristan. “Seriously. You’re better than you know.”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me. I am on a voyage of self-discovery!” She laughed.
“Overrated.” Tristan laughed. And then he said more seriously, “You won’t like this, Nory, but you don’t need to find yourself, you already know exactly who you are. Of all of us, you always had the strongest sense of self.”
“Jeez, is that how I came across?”
“You always knew your own mind; your moral compass was immovable!”
“What if I don’t like the person I am?”
“Then you need to learn to love her, because like it or not, you’re stuck with yourself.”
“Are you taking your own advice?” she asked, knowing that Tristan would understand she was referring to his battle with depression.
“I’m trying,” he said, smiling. “Every day’s a school day!”
They’d had a great night, laughing over old times and talking about the future. In that moment, it never would have crossed Nory’s mind that Tristan might not have a future.
At the end of the evening, they promised they wouldn’t leave it so long again and they both said they’d call. But they didn’t. It wasn’t purposeful, it was simply that life got in the way. They were busy people. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about Tristan; she did, often, in between needing to text her gran and changing the bedsheets, one of those things you determine to do tomorrow.
Almost a year later, Charles called to tell her Tristan had taken his own life. At first, she felt winded. Then came disbelief, that terrible feeling like you’re stuck in a bad dream and you can’t wake up, it can’t possibly be true. Hot on the tail of disbelief came regret; why hadn’t she made that call? Was she really so busy? What had been so important that in a year she hadn’t had the time to call up her old friend?