BooksBarbecue
Back When the Stars Go Dark Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Epigraph
  2. Maps
  3. (prologue)
  4. Part 1: Signs and Vapors
  5. (one)
  6. (two)
  7. (three)
  8. (four)
  9. (five)
  10. (six)
  11. (seven)
  12. (eight)
  13. (nine)
  14. (ten)
  15. (eleven)
  16. (twelve)
  17. Part 2: Secret Things
  18. (thirteen)
  19. (fourteen)
  20. (fifteen)
  21. (sixteen)
  22. (seventeen)
  23. (eighteen)
  24. (nineteen)
  25. (twenty)
  26. (twenty-one)
  27. (twenty-two)
  28. (twenty-three)
  29. (twenty-four)
  30. (twenty-five)
  31. (twenty-six)
  32. (twenty-seven)
  33. (twenty-eight)
  34. (twenty-nine)
  35. (thirty)
  36. (thirty-one)
  37. (thirty-two)
  38. (thirty-three)
  39. (thirty-four)
  40. (thirty-five)
  41. (thirty-six)
  42. (thirty-seven)
  43. (thirty-eight)
  44. (thirty-nine)
  45. Part 3: Time and the Maiden
  46. (forty)
  47. (forty-one)
  48. (forty-two)
  49. (forty-three)
  50. (forty-four)
  51. (forty-five)
  52. (forty-six)
  53. (forty-seven)
  54. (forty-eight)
  55. (forty-nine)
  56. (fifty)
  57. (fifty-one)
  58. (fifty-two)
  59. (fifty-three)
  60. Part 4: The Bent Grove
  61. (fifty-four)
  62. (fifty-five)
  63. (fifty-six)
  64. (fifty-seven)
  65. (fifty-eight)
  66. (fifty-nine)
  67. (sixty)
  68. (sixty-one)
  69. (sixty-two)
  70. (sixty-three)
  71. (sixty-four)
  72. (sixty-five)
  73. (sixty-six)
  74. (sixty-seven)
  75. (sixty-eight)
  76. (sixty-nine)
  77. (seventy)
  78. Dedication
  79. (acknowledgments)
  80. (author’s note)
  81. BY PAULA MCLAIN
  82. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

He raised his eyebrows and seemed just about to correct me as my husband walked up. Frank stood a little straighter and reached out his hand. “Brendan. Tough day. I’m so sorry, man. Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

“Thanks, Frank.” Brendan’s gray knit tie hung loosely at the open collar of his shirt, but nothing in his body seemed remotely relaxed as he stood between Frank and me, glancing back and forth as if he was attempting to read a feeling in the air. “So what’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” I lied quickly. “We can talk about it later.”

“I heard you.” He blinked rapidly, his face growing pink. “You can’t seriously mean to go back to work right now.”

“Listen,” Frank said, stepping forward. “I just said the same thing. I’m on your side.”

“Who’s on my side?” Behind me the wall felt smooth and cool against my palm, and yet I felt caged suddenly. Trapped. “I’m just trying to get through this, okay? If I can’t distract myself—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I can’t believe you!” Brendan clamped his lips together, his nostrils flaring. “How about us? How about focusing on your family? Don’t we deserve that from you? Especially after what happened?”

It was as if he’d slapped me. I froze in my body. “That’s not what I mean.” I could hear how stiff my answer sounded, how defensive.

“Yes, it is.”

Frank and I both watched him turn on his heel, then push his way through the room full of bodies with his head down.

“You should go after him. He’s just grieving. People say all kinds of things when they’re in pain.”

“People, Frank? What about my pain?” Inside my chest, everything felt airless, sealed in a vacuum. “You blame me too, don’t you? Just say it.”

(three)

The air temperature feels like bathwater as I leave Santa Rosa, and the sun glitters obscenely. Even the unkempt motel parking lot is a garden, half a dozen silk trees with feathery fuchsia drag-queen blooms. There are birds everywhere—in the branches, in the smudgeless sky, in the broken neon Jack in the Box drive-through kiosk, where three fuzzy chicks stare at me from a nest threaded with drinking-straw wrappers, their throats so pink and open it hurts to look at them.

I order a large coffee and an egg sandwich I can’t eat before cutting over to Route 116, which will thread me through the Russian River Valley to the coast. Jenner is the town there, a postcard more than an actual village. Far below, Goat Rock looks like a giant’s crude toy ball against the dizzying blue of the Pacific, the sort of magic trick Northern California seems to do in its sleep.