Colleen heard the sounds of family: Hallie came home and put her children to bed. Shane dropped off Dad, and the swish of water in the pipes echoed as each one of her family readied for bed. There was the creak of floorboards, the called-out good nights. Colleen didn’t leave her room for any of this. She stayed put, Dad’s life book in her hands, and began to wonder—what would be in her book? Would someone have to skip over the last ten years, or merely put in the articles she’d written? Because the truth was, by the heart’s standard she’d barely lived at all. She’d been perpetually busy and she’d done good work, but maybe she hadn’t lived fully because she hadn’t let her heart define her life. She’d let pain and avoidance shape her days and hours.

Finally she closed the book and her eyes and turned out the lights. She slept so lightly that she heard footsteps in the middle of the night, and the quick double sound of the screen door. Colleen smiled in her half-awake state. Just as they’d done when they were kids, Hallie was still sneaking outside to stare at the stars. It had always been the way Hallie calmed herself when she was struggling with hard times or decisions. The ritual settled her and she’d tiptoe back inside before anyone knew she’d been gone.

With the smile of memory, Colleen drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Thirty

If you want to keep a memory pristine, you must not call upon it too often.

Sally Mann, Hold Still

TWO DAYS UNTIL THE PARTY . . .

Colleen’s computer screen glowed in the bedroom’s almost-morning light. She’d woken early and checked her e-mail.

Dear Ms. Donohue,

We are ready for further discussions regarding your travel memoir. When will you return to New York so we may schedule a time to meet?

The letter had gone on from there, with a request for a prompt response.

She returned the e-mail with a note that she would be home within the week and yes, she would like to schedule a meeting.

She was wrong last night in thinking that her life book was empty. These past ten years of her memory book would overflow with travel and interesting people and landscapes as exotic as any in the world. They hadn’t been a waste. They’d merely been a different way of living from her siblings’ and her dad’s.

There were negotiations to be done, conversations to be had, but Colleen rose from bed with a smile and news she wanted to share.

Who would she tell first? Who would celebrate with her?