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Back Never Look Back Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-One
  34. Thirty-Two
  35. Thirty-Three
  36. Thirty-Four
  37. Thirty-Five
  38. Thirty-Six
  39. Thirty-Seven
  40. Thirty-Eight
  41. Thirty-Nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-One
  44. Forty-Two
  45. Forty-Three
  46. Acknowledgments
  47. P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
  48. About the Author
  49. About the Book
  50. Also by Alison Gaylin
  51. About the Publisher
  1. Once Is Not Enough by Jacqueline Susann. (My favorite book. I found it in Mom’s drawer after she died, and I’ve read it three times. If I decide not to name you Aurora Grace, I may name you January Grace.)
  2. Papa Pete’s college ring. It’s gold and it has a big red stone and it’s worn down smooth inside from never leaving his finger. I can fit two of my own fingers into that one ring of his, and it still feels warm from him. Papa Pete, I’m so sorry.
  3. A picture of Jenny, holding her favorite stuffed animal (a fluffy pink dog she named Todd for some reason). I will keep the picture in the pocket of my denim jacket, and I will look at it every day.
  4. Shalimar perfume. Gabriel made me take that because “my girl should always smell the way I like.”
  5. The big butcher knife from the kitchen, wrapped in one of my sweaters. For when Gabriel is asleep, and I find the courage.

With love,

April (Your Future Mom)

Four

Quentin

“THE SMILE,” GEORGE Pollard said. “The way she runs her hand through her hair. The ring on her finger. See it? That’s aquamarine. April’s birthstone.”

Quentin and Summer were sitting across from Pollard at his sprawling, polished desk at the Duarte Medical Center, watching the video clip of the woman he insisted was the very-much-alive April Cooper. It was well after his usual work hours—close to 8:00 P.M., Pollard having made up an excuse about a dinner meeting with the hospital board that his trusting wife had accepted without question.

Pollard had sneaked around on his staff and lied to his wife in order to meet Quentin and Summer, which said a lot. But he wanted no part of the Closure podcast—no visible part of it, anyway. “I feel awful about what happened to your family and I want to help,” he’d said to Quentin over the phone that morning. “But if you mention me by name, position, or anything that directly identifies me, I’m afraid I will have to take legal action.”

Quentin hadn’t pressed. To be honest, he understood where George Pollard was coming from, both in his desire to distance himself from April Cooper and in his need to do something to make up for the damage she’d done. But he also believed he could get Pollard to reconsider. Meeting the man in person, looking him directly in the eyes and witnessing the change in them as he gazed at the woman on his computer screen, Quentin saw a lot of the same emotions that had plagued him since childhood. Longing. Loathing. Guilt . . . The key was to convince Pollard—as he’d somehow convinced himself—that Closure was the cure for all of it.