The Year of Second Chances, page 30
Levi closed the trunk, grinning over at me as I approached the Honda. “You ready?”
“No,” I replied. I opened the passenger door. “But I will be.”
The sun was setting over the prairie just near the border of North Dakota and Montana. I’d managed to snag a seat in the viewing car, with giant windows on all sides, so I could watch the landscape roll out in front of me. We’d be going through Glacier National Park and later along the Columbia River Gorge, where the wildflowers would soon come back, covering the fire-charred mountains. Watching the countryside from the train car made me feel simultaneously protected and at full alert, like if I didn’t hold my breath marveling at its beauty I would miss something extraordinary. In Brokenridge, I could never miss anything. I knew the square mileage like the couch cushions knew the indent of my body. I could see everything coming from acres away. Even the worst thing that could possibly happen—the light fading from Gabe’s eyes—had rolled toward me slowly from a distance, like a storm cloud over the beet fields.
When you love someone, you let them go. Right? That’s what they say. But what if your love for everyone had bled through your entire life? How do you let go of life? You die. Maybe literally, in some cases, but not in mine. It was an old version of me who died along with my husband. I mourned her as much as I mourned him. She haunted me. Still does. Ask Pam Chomsky.
Levi and I talked on the phone during the ride, but sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes I listened to the playlists he’d made, trying to figure out which of the Hidden Beaches’ songs he’d written for me: he knew how much I loved puzzles, so I’d have to listen to the lyrics and guess, he’d told me. He would come through Portland on tour someday. Maybe I’d see him soon, or maybe I wouldn’t, but I had a feeling I would. We were on the verge of growing something new, after all. But it wasn’t the kind of love that demanded a plan, at least not right away. It had deep roots, a history, and with the memory of Gabe between us, history was never far from mind. Now that I was building my own life, I didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking, or what he wanted for us, or what anyone wanted from me.
I leaned my head against the train window and felt the last of the sun. I knew what I wanted, and that was enough.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Joelle Hobeika, my editor and advocate at Alloy for over a decade, who can read my mind as well as she reads everything. Thank you to Lucia Macro at HarperCollins, for loving and believing in this character and her world as much as I did; to Asanté Simons, for helping usher this book to the finish line; and to the entire William Morrow and HarperCollins team. Thanks also to Josh Bank and Sara Shandler, also at Alloy, who teach me how to better tell a story every time I work with them.
A few communities gifted me the time to write, the space to think, and invaluable, inspirational company: the Loghaven Artist Residency in Knoxville, Tennessee; the residency at the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts in Nebraska City, Nebraska; and the Creative Writing MFA program at the University of Mississippi. To my UM mentors, colleagues, and fellow writers, including but not limited to Melissa Ginsburg, Kiese Laymon, Mary Hayes, Matt Bondurant, Tommy Franklin, Garth Greenwell, Amy Lam, Tyriek White, Mary Berman, Morgan McComb, and Sarah Heying: This is far from the book I had in mind, but it’s the book that came out, and my writing is all the better from the time we spent together. Thank you. And to my beloved MFBlaze writing group, Ross, Elsa, and Matt: see you next month.
A grateful nod to the works of Joan Didion, Carole Radziwill, Becky Aikman, and Nora McInerny, and to the many perspectives on the Widow’s Voice blog from Soaring Spirits International. Through researching I have learned there is no one way to grieve a spouse. This book owes everything to those who have shared their stories of widowhood, whether it resembles their experiences or not.
Enormous gratitude to Kay Holt, from whom I was honored to hear an account of new life after death full of care, grace, and honesty. Kay, this book would not exist in this form without you, and I hope Robin’s story makes you proud. Thank you, too, to Aunt Deb and Uncle Bud, for connecting us and for your support of my writing through the years. Aunt Barb and Uncle Cameron, thank you for the use of Lindstrom as a namesake. The beauty I imagined on Robin’s drives was always inspired by the Minnesota farmland that surrounds your home.
To Sally, Ian, Elise, Helene, Mandy, Emma, and everyone in my chosen family: thank you for cheering me on and reminding me the world exists outside of Microsoft Word. Wyatt, my big bro: you’re a lyrics genius. Thank you for writing Levi’s songs, for taking me ice fishing, and for always being my role model in how to love the land. Dylan, my little bro: thank you for your legal consultation regarding DWIs, for always being willing to talk in silly voices with me, and for being proud, even when I take a big risk like quitting a steady job to write.
Mom and Dad, I remember sitting in your backyard two years ago, telling you that unfortunately this is the only thing I can do with my life. Thank you for loving me as I stumbled around looking for this truth for so many years, and thank you for hearing me now.
Finally, Dane, my love, my new family. You held my hand on a bench in Lawrence and told me it was okay to leap. I’m so happy I landed next to you.
About the Author
LARA AVERY is the author of three young adult novels, one of which, The Memory Book, received the 2017 Minnesota Book Award. She studied film at Macalester College and got her MFA in creative writing from the University of Mississippi. She lives in Topeka, Kansas.
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Also by Lara Avery
YA NOVELS
The Memory Book
A Million Miles Away
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE YEAR OF SECOND CHANCES. Copyright © 2023 by Alloy Entertainment, LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Cover design and illustration by Sarah Horgan
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Digital Edition AUGUST 2023 ISBN: 978-0-06-327376-4
Version 06152023
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-327375-7
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Lara Avery, The Year of Second Chances
