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Back When We Were Bright and Beautiful
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. Part Two
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. Part Three
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. Epilogue
  68. Author’s Note
  69. Acknowledgments
  70. About the Author
  71. Also by Jillian Medoff
  72. About the Publisher

I picture myself at seven, eight, nine, a skinny kid in shorts. Scratched, scabby legs. Wind-tangled hair. Wonder Woman Band-Aids. As I start to doze off, I remember one afternoon before Nate left for Groton. We’re sitting, cross-legged, in the cove. Above us, the trees form a canopy to block out the hot sun. The air is cool and smells of salt. Nate is fourteen, I’m eleven, Billy is ten. Still young enough to believe in Hawkins Cove, to trust in its transformative properties. In two weeks, Nate will be gone. We’ll never see him except for breaks, holidays, and the occasional weekend.

“I d-d-don’t want to g-g-go,” Billy says, though he’s years away from boarding school himself.

“You’ll be okay,” Nate assures him. “I’ll be there.”

“Besides, Elmo,” I say, echoing Eleanor. “Groton is the best of the best, especially if you want to be a doctor. FDR went there. So did Teddy Roosevelt’s son.”

“They’re not d-d-d-doctors,” Billy points out.

“Will Elmo Quinn be a doctor?” Nate holds up our Magic 8 Ball. “All signs point to yes.”

I grab it from him. “Will Cassie fly planes like Amelia Earhart?” I’m enthralled by tragic, mysterious women. “Ask again later. Will Nate surf the Banzai Pipeline?”

“Without a doubt,” Nate says just as I read, “Without a doubt.” We crack up. “Jinx!”

I feel thoroughly, unconditionally happy. I loved Billy and Nate more than I ever loved anyone, even Rachel, my biological mother. At one time, I thought about her constantly, but by that point, she’d been dead for years, and existed only as a few faded pictures and a couple of songs she hummed under her breath. One was a Christian hymn that her own mother, a religious woman, sang to her. All things bright and beautiful / All creatures great and small / All things wise and wonderful / The Lord God made them all.

“I’ll tell you what happens,” I say to Nate now, lying next to him. “Billy will go to med school. I’ll fly supersonic jets. You’ll surf the Banzai Pipeline. We’ll live happily ever after.” I pause. “Nate? You up?” Beside me, my brother’s breathing is slow and even. “Just wait, Nathaniel,” I whisper. “It will be so beautiful.”

15

THURSDAY AFTERNOON WE’RE IN DOWNTOWN PRINCETON. The leafy trees, storefronts, and wide sidewalks remind me of New Haven, which feels like a place I visited once, years ago. It makes no sense—I haven’t even been gone a week. But I’m so caught up in Billy, my other life has receded; soon, I will barely remember it.

The offices of DeFiore & Associates, LLC are in a renovated Victorian. As we climb the front steps, the door swings open. “You made it!” DeFiore stands on the landing, wearing his same rumpled suit. “Welcome, welcome.”