The Firefly Lane girls . . .
In Kates dream, it is 1974, and she is a teenager again, riding her bike at midnight with her best friend beside her in a darkness so complete it is like being invisible. She remembers the place in vivid detail: a meandering ribbon of asphalt bordered on either side by deep gullies of murky water and hillsides of shaggy grass. Before they met, that road seemed to go nowhere at all; it was just a country lane named after an insect no one had ever seen in this rugged blue and green corner of the world. Then they saw it through each others eyes . . .
Let go, Katie. God hates a coward.
She woke with a start, feeling tears on her cheeks. She lay there in her bed, wide awake now, listening to a winter storm rage outside. In the last week shed lost the ability to distance herself from her memories. Too often lately she returned to Firefly Lane in her dreams, and no wonder.
Best friends forever.
That was the promise theyd made all those years ago, and theyd believed it would last, believed that someday theyd be old women together, sitting in their rocking chairs on a creaking deck, talking about the times of their lives, and laughing.
Now she knew better, of course. For more than a year shed been telling herself that it was okay, that she could go on without her best friend. Sometimes she even believed it.
Then shed hear the music. Their music. Yesterday, while shed been shopping, a bad Muzak version of "Youve Got a Friend" had made her cry, right there next to the radishes.
She eased the covers back and got out of bed, careful not to waken the man sleeping beside her. For a moment she stood there, staring down at him in the shadowy darkness. Even in sleep, he wore a troubled expression.
She took the phone off its hook and left the bedroom, then walked down the quiet hallway to the deck. There, she stared out at the storm and gathered her courage. As she punched in the familiar numbers, she wondered what she would say after all these silent months, how she would start. Ive had a bad week . . . my life is falling apart . . . or simply: I need you.
Across the black and turbulent Sound, the phone rang.
And rang.
When the answering machine clicked on, she tried to marshal her need into something as small and ordinary as words. "Hey, Tul. Its me, Kate. I cant believe you havent called to apologize to me—"
Thunder echoed across the sky; lightning flashed in staccato bursts. She heard a click. "Tully? Are you listening to this? Tully?"
There was no answer.
Kate sighed and went on. "I need you, Tully. Call me on my cell. "
Suddenly the power went out, taking the phone connection with it. A busy signal bleated in her ear.
Kate tried not to take it as a sign. Instead, she went back inside and lit a candle in the living room. Then, on this day of her surgery, she did one special thing for each member of her family, a little reminder that she was here. For William she found the DVD of Monsters, Inc. that hed misplaced. For Lucas she put together a sack full of his favorite snacks for the waiting room. She charged Marahs cell phone and put it by her bed, knowing how adrift her daughter would feel today if she couldnt call her friends. Finally, she found every set of keys in the house, tagged them, and set them on the counter for Johnny. He lost them almost daily.
When she couldnt think of anything else to do for her family, she went to the window and watched the storm die. Slowly, the dewy world lightened. Charcoal clouds turned to a gorgeous pearlized pink. Seattle looked shiny and new, huddled as it was beneath the rising sun.
A few hours later, her family began to gather around her. The whole time they were together, having breakfast and packing their things into the car, she found herself glancing at the phone, expecting it to ring.
Six weeks later, when theyd taken both her breasts and poured poison into her blood and irradiated her flesh until it looked raw and burned, she was still waiting for Tully to call.
On January second, Tully came home to a cold, empty apartment.
"Story of my life," she said bitterly, tipping the doorman, who carried her bulky designer suitcases into the bedroom.
When he left, she stood there, uncertain of what to do. It was nine oclock on a Monday night, and most people were home with their families. Tomorrow, shed go back to work and be able to lose herself in the daily routine of the empire shed created. In no time at all shed let go of the images that haunted her during the holidays, had even followed her to the ends of the earth last month. Literally. Shed spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years in the frozen south, huddled around their heat source, singing songs and drinking wine. To the naked eye, and the ever-present camera, it had looked like a good time.
But too often when shed crawled into her down sleeping bag, wearing her hat and mittens, and tried to sleep, she heard the old songs banging around in her head, making her cry. More than once shed wakened with ice on her cheeks.
She tossed her purse on the sofa and glanced at the clock, noticing that the red numbers were flashing 5:55. The power must have gone out while she was gone.
She poured herself a glass of wine, got out a piece of paper and a pen, then sat down at her desk. The numbers on the answering machine were flashing, too.
"Great. " Now shed have no idea who had tried to call her after the outage. She hit the replay button and began the slow, arduous task of going through her messages. Halfway through, she made a note to speak to her assistant about voice mail.
She was barely paying attention when Kates voice roused her.
"Hey, Tul. Its me. Kate. "