The Golden Hour Page 26

  “When do Gus and Av get here?” she asked as she stuffed her clothes into her suitcase, again.

  “Saturday,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

  “What did you tell Gus?”

  I looked out the window at the sun rising over the water.

  “I told him I want to come home,” I said.

  “To the duplex?”

  “No,” I said, shook my head, “to him.”

  Pilar smiled, her eyes wide and wet with tears. “And the trial?”

  I nodded. “It’ll start in about a month.”

  “I want to be there with you.”

  I nodded again. I wanted her there. I wanted my parents there. I wanted Gus there. To give me courage. To bear witness. Silence had been easy, and I knew this would be difficult.

  As my mind reeled at the thought, I had to calmly talk myself down. Rick and I had made a deal; I’d sold my soul that day to save my life. But he wouldn’t kill me again. I wouldn’t let him.

  * * *

  Gus and Avery arrived on Saturday evening.

  “Mama Llama!” Avery squealed and ran to me, hugging my legs. I bent down and clung to her with my good arm, not even minding the pain of her embrace.

  “I missed you!” I said. And as she buried her little body into me, my heart reeled. She smelled of paste and cocoa and shampoo. Her little fingernails with chipped pink polish, her tiny teeth and tangled hair. I missed every inch of her.

  “Oh, don’t cry, Mama. You’re not a mermaid!” she said. “You’re not bamished anymore!”

  I smiled at Gus. He’d shaved his beard; his face looked vulnerable this way.

  “Hi,” I said, and moved to hug him.

  He gently hugged me, careful of my arm. “This looks awful,” he said. “But you look good. You look happy.”

  After dinner, after Avery fell asleep in her upside-down room, it began to snow again.

  It snowed all night.

  Gus and I sat together in the living room. We didn’t talk about the swimming pool, the kiss. We didn’t talk about what that meant, what was going on with us. What had happened before or what would happen next. We didn’t talk about what had broken us apart and whether or not it was something that could ever be repaired. We didn’t talk about what I’d left behind or what it meant for me to return. We didn’t talk about separation, divorce, or reconciliation. We didn’t talk about Mia. Or Avery. Or art. Or where we were now.

  Instead, we sat on the couch, not touching, with all the lights out, watching the snow fall on the ocean. In the small glow of the porch light, the filaments fell and fell. And we sat, together, mesmerized.

  We also didn’t talk about Robby Rousseau. We didn’t have to. Because he resided in those woods Gus had been pulling me through for the last fifteen years. I looked at him as he started, finally, to fall asleep (hypnotized, anesthetized by the snow on the sea). And I knew without him I would never get to the other side.

  “I miss you, Wynnie,” he said, just as I was drifting off to sleep too.

  “Even though . . .”

  “I miss you even though.”

  * * *

  In the morning, before Gus and Avery woke, I went to the dining room and watched the sun as it rose pale and soft on the horizon. Slowly, that beautiful morning light filled the room. The walls were empty now, Sybil’s photos carefully packed away. Pilar had told me I could keep them, the negatives too. I didn’t know what I would do with them, whether or not they should ever be shared. But I would take care of them. I would make sure they were safe.

  I had pulled out the print of Seamus and the little girl playing hide-and-go-seek, though, and given it to him.

  His hands trembled as he studied the image. “You’re leaving soon?”

  I nodded.

  “Will you ever be back to the island?”

  “I think so,” I said. “Maybe in the summer.”

  “Good. I’ll see you then.” He’d smiled and nodded. “Thank you. For this. For everything.”

  Mike Ash had called my cell phone a half dozen times, apologizing again and again for the night I broke my elbow. For frightening me. He was hoping he might talk to me after the trial. He’d be there, he said. He, like all the others, just hoped the truth would, finally, come out.

  I looked at the birches. Gus had told me not to worry about the commission. That he would take care of me. Of Avery. That I should just work on healing for now. But still. I put the canvas on my easel. It was tricky with only one good arm, but I managed to get it propped up. I stared at those trees, those lies, and wondered if I’d be able to do it. To wander back into those woods again and tell a group of strangers what happened to me. What Robby did to me. What Rick did to me under that impossibly blue sky.

  Outside the window, I watched a seagull swoop down, its beautiful, controlled flight. And I thought of Sibyl.

  Using my teeth, I unscrewed the cap of a tube of bone black and squeezed out a fat, greasy blob onto my palette. I took the largest brush I had and gripped it with my left hand. It felt awkward and uncomfortable. But it didn’t take any skill. It only took patience. A painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light. And slowly, I began to paint over the trees, to begin again. To tell the truth this time, to not be afraid. Later, when my arm was healed, I would paint the haze that surrounded me that afternoon. The mist that hung both weightless and oppressive in the trees above my head. With meticulous, ridiculous, detail. I would craft those blades of grass, the green of the leaves. Everything unfurling. Everything reaching for the waning sun. I would paint the darkness in the distance.

  If this day were a painting, it would take a special brush, one to both paint and erase. To both articulate and obliterate. It would have to carry every color and no color at all. Opaque and transparent. Vivid and subdued.

  If this day were a painting, it would be both an epitaph and a prophecy. An end and a beginning.

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  The Golden Hour

  T. Greenwood

  The following discussion questions are included

  to enhance your group’s reading of

  The Golden Hour.

  Discussion Questions

  1. Wyn sees her life as divided between Before and After the attack. Discuss the idea of divisions in this novel (both literal and figurative).

  2. Gus accuses Wyn of selling her soul. Is this fair? Why or why not?

  3. Wyn struggles with the choices she has made as an artist. How does the discovery of Sybil’s photographs help her change her perspective?

  4. The town where Wyn grew up is called Haven. Discuss the ways in which the name is accurate and the ways in which it is ironic.

  5. This is a novel about friendship, but Wyn’s friendship with Pilar is threatened by Pilar’s newfound success. Have you ever experienced a similar rift with a friend?

  6. This is also a book about secrets. Discuss the secrets each of these characters keep: Wyn, Sybil, Seamus.

  7. What do you think will happen between Gus and Wyn now?

  8. Do you think that there will be justice with regards to Rick Rousseau? How about Robby?

  9. Wyn worries that she has failed as both a wife and a mother. Do you agree with her?

  10. Wyn has been living a lie for twenty years. Do you understand why she has never told the truth? What would you have done? Do you forgive Wyn for her lie?

  11. Talk about the power of art, both in The Golden Hour and in your own experience. Do you have a creative outlet, and if so, what are the therapeutic benefits of it?

  Don’t miss any of T. Greenwood’s critically acclaimed novels!

  WHERE I LOST HER

  Eight years ago, Tess and Jake were considered a power couple of the New York publishing world—happy, in love, planning a family. Failed fertility treatments and a heartbreaking attempt at adoption have fractured their marriage and left Tess edgy and adrift. A visit to friends in rural Vermo
nt throws Tess’s world into further chaos when she sees a young, half-dressed child in the middle of the road, who then runs into the woods like a frightened deer.

  The entire town begins searching for the little girl. But there are no sightings, no other witnesses, no reports of missing children. As local police and Jake point out, Tess’s imagination has played her false before. And yet Tess is compelled to keep looking, not only to save the little girl she can’t forget but to salvage her broken heart as well.

  Blending her trademark lyrical prose with a superbly crafted and suspenseful narrative, Where I Lost Her is a gripping, haunting novel from a remarkable storyteller.

  “Where I Lost Her is a spellbinding tale about finding what we most want in the places we least expect. A touching story of one woman’s loss and heartache, coupled with the electrifying search for a young girl in the remote woods of rural Vermont, the novel features the eloquent prose of T. Greenwood, indelible characters and an edge-of-your-seat mystery. I loved everything about Where I Lost Her.”

  —Mary Kubica, Bestselling author of The Good Girl and Pretty Baby

  “Greenwood crafts believable relationships with searing, heartbreaking realism. Showcasing the power of friendship and of hope, this mysterious, suspenseful exploration of the human psyche will keep readers turning pages and losing sleep.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Greenwood’s fascinating tenth novel is sure to have readers riveted, as a distraught Tess struggles to learn the truth.”

  —Library Journal

  “Intricate drama unfolds as the author provides, in the first-person, Tess’s back story of her time in Guatemala relating her fears and anguish. For readers who love the in-depth description of locations, Where I Lost Her will not disappoint.”

  —The New York Journal of Books

  “This intoxicating blend of women’s fiction and psychological thriller is the perfect platform for Greenwood’s exquisite prose and masterful storytelling.”

  —RT Book Reviews, 4.5 Stars Top Pick

  THE FOREVER BRIDGE

  With eloquent prose and lush imagery, T. Greenwood creates a heartfelt story of reconciliation and forgiveness, and of the deep, often unexpected connections that can bring you home.

  Sylvie can hardly bear to remember how normal her family was two years ago. All of that changed on the night an oncoming vehicle forced their car over the edge of a covered bridge into the river. With horrible swiftness, Sylvie’s young son was gone, her husband lost his legs, and she was left with shattering blame and grief.

  Eleven-year-old Ruby misses her little brother, too. But she also misses the mother who has become a recluse in their old home while Ruby and her dad try to piece themselves back together. Amid all the uncertainty in her life, Ruby becomes obsessed with bridges, drawing inspiration from the strength and purpose that underlies their grace. During one momentous week, as Hurricane Irene bears down on their small Vermont town and a pregnant teenager with a devastating secret gradually draws Sylvie back into the world, Ruby and her mother will have a chance to span the gap between them again.

  “Set against the backdrop of an impending hurricane, a mother, her young daughter, and a pregnant teen find themselves caught up in their own emotional storms fraught with loss, guilt, and shards of fractured families. Greenwood deftly captures the complicated and subtly volatile situations of these three women at three very different stages of their lives with sensitivity and a stark honesty that makes for a compelling read.”

  —Tawni O’Dell, New York Times Bestselling author of Back Roads

  “In The Forever Bridge, about a family reeling from the death of a child as they face Hurricane Irene, T. Greenwood adds another enticing, lyrical novel to her body of work. Greenwood’s facility in bringing fictional Quimby, Vermont to life—which she has now done in 7 of her novels—is reminiscent of Faulkner’s evocation of Yoknapatawpha County; a created place so thoughtfully rendered that it lives and breathes even when the book is closed.”

  —Miranda Beverly-Whittemore, New York Times bestselling author of Bittersweet

  “I loved The Forever Bridge from its first beautiful sentence to its breathtaking final one. T. Greenwood delves into the pain of grief, the complex navigations of family in the throes of loss, and brings the reader to a place of hope and, yes, even joy.”

  —Ann Hood, author of The Knitting Circle and An Italian Wife

  “Amidst a body of extraordinary work, T. Greenwood’s latest is her best. Set against the violent backdrop of Hurricane Irene, The Forever Bridge tells the affecting, evocative tale of three damaged women all fighting to find a road home. Written with acute humanity and depth, the beauty of the novel is in its complex story and, ultimately, its heartbreaking and redemptive end. Or, in Greenwood’s own words: ‘That something stolen has been returned to her. That something lost has been found.’ ”

  —Michelle Gable, author of A Paris Apartment

  “T. Greenwood’s The Forever Bridge is full of palpable emotion: both the pain of unbearable losses, and the indomitable human connections that somehow allow us to bear them. Essentially an excavation of the fragile bridges we build towards hope, this lyrical and poignant novel will appeal to fans of Caroline Leavitt’s Pictures of You and Jonathan Evison’s The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving.”

  —Gina Frangello, author of A Life in Men

  BODIES OF WATER

  In 1960, Billie Valentine is a young housewife living in a sleepy Massachusetts suburb, treading water in a dull marriage and caring for two adopted daughters. Summers spent with the girls at their lakeside camp in Vermont are her one escape—from her husband’s demands, from days consumed by household drudgery, and from the nagging suspicion that life was supposed to hold something different.

  Then a new family moves in across the street. Ted and Eva Wilson have three children and a fourth on the way, and their arrival reignites long-buried feelings in Billie. The affair that follows offers a solace Billie has never known, until her secret is revealed and both families are wrenched apart in the tragic aftermath.

  Fifty years later, Ted and Eva’s son, Johnny, contacts an elderly but still spry Billie, entreating her to return east to meet with him. Once there, Billie finally learns the surprising truth about what was lost, and what still remains, of those joyful, momentous summers.

  In this deeply tender novel, T. Greenwood weaves deftly between the past and present to create a poignant and wonderfully moving story of friendship, the resonance of memories, and the love that keeps us afloat.

  “A complex and compelling portrait of the painful intricacies of love and loyalty. Book clubs will find much to discuss in T. Greenwood’s insightful story of two women caught between their hearts and their families.”

  —Eleanor Brown, New York Times bestselling author of The Weird Sisters

  “A wrenching look at what happens when two people fall in love in the wrong place at the wrong time . . . Beauty and tragedy at the same time, darkness then light—those are Greenwood hallmarks. She’s terrific with characters, with the multiple textures that make someone seem human on the page. She has some interesting things to say here about memory, and the ending is as moving as anything she’s written.”

  —The San Diego Union-Tribune

  “Bodies of Water is no ordinary love story, but a book of astonishing precision, lyrically told, raw in its honesty and gentle in its unfolding. Here is a complex tapestry of lives entwined, a testimony to the fact that a timeless sort of love does exist. T. Greenwood has rendered a compassionate story of people who are healed and destroyed by love, by alcoholism, by secrets and betrayal, and yet she offers us a certain shade of hope that soul mates can and do find each other—sometimes more than once in a lifetime. A luminous, fearless heart-wrenching story about the power of true love.”

  —Ilie Ruby, author of The Salt God’s Daughter

  “Greenwood’s [seventh] novel, a tale of love and loyalty, owes its success to the poetic p
rose, as well as the compelling chronology she employs . . . This compassionate, insightful look at hope and redemption is a richly textured portrait. This gem of a story is a good choice for those who enjoy family novels.”

  —Library Journal

  “T. Greenwood’s Bodies of Water is a lyrical novel about the inexplicable nature of love, and the power a forbidden affair has to transform one woman’s entire life. By turns beautiful and tragic, haunting and healing, I was captivated from the very first line. And Greenwood’s moving story of love and loss, hope and redemption has stayed with me, long after I turned the last page.”

  —Jillian Cantor, author of Margot

  BREATHING WATER

  Three years after leaving Lake Gormlaith, Vermont, Effie Greer is coming home. The unspoiled lake, surrounded by dense woods and patches of wild blueberries, is the place where she spent idyllic childhood summers at her grandparents’ cottage. And it’s where Effie’s tempestuous relationship with her college boyfriend, Max, culminated in a tragedy she can never forget.

  Effie had hoped to save Max from his troubled past, and in the process became his victim. Since then, she’s wandered from one city to another, living like a fugitive. But now Max is gone, and as Effie paints and restores the ramshackle cottage, she forms new bonds—with an old school friend, with her widowed grandmother, and with Devin, an artist and carpenter summering nearby. Slowly, she’s discovering a resilience and tenderness she didn’t know she possessed, and—buoyed by the lake’s cool, forgiving waters—she may even learn to save herself.