What? Oh my God, is she holding what he thinks she’s holding?
It’s a case. An instrument case! He’s so happy, Jesus, he’s flare-heat, star energy. He’s force times distance, rocket propulsion; leader of the Rebel Alliance against the Galactic Empire. Billy yanks his parking brake.
“Don’t go finding a cure for cancer or anything until I get back, okay, Hare?” he hears Mads say through his rolled-down window.
He loves her. He’s bursting with it. And he loves her enough to be the guy she might need, so he’s ready to get out and talk to Aunt Claire and Uncle Thomas and maybe do some hand-shaking or backslapping or whatever the hell you do in the semi-suburbs. Claire and Thomas seem to have other ideas, though. They’re hugging Mads fast, and waving and blowing kisses and making go, go gestures like they’re in a big hurry. Well, okay. Whatever. There will be other days for back slapping, for sure.
He’s half out the door to help her with her bag, but she’s already tossed it inside. She scoots into the front seat, settles the instrument case on her lap.
“Floor it,” she says.
Whatever she wants. Anything. And hey, that he can do, because the truck’s got speed. He sticks an arm out, waves good-bye to Aunt Claire and Uncle Thomas, and hits the accelerator. In his rearview mirror, he sees Thomas’s truck in their driveway, smiling like it’s all pleased with itself. Its grin gets smaller in the distance.
“Mads. A violin case,” Billy manages to say. He feels so much, he can barely talk.
“Well, saxophone. Do you love it?” She lifts it for a better view.
“I love it so much my heart is going to explode.”
“I thought you would.” She clicks open the clasps. Raises the top. She fishes through a bunch of underwear, the pretty kind that’s the colors of Easter eggs. Somewhere in there, she finds her glasses. She puts them on.
“I love you in your glasses,” he says.
“I love you in your plain face,” she says.
Jesus, he doesn’t know how he can take it. He can’t wait to kiss her.
Now she looks over her shoulder. “Hi, guys.” Jas and Casper har har har their greeting. She scruffs their silky heads, leans way over for dog kisses.
“You know what else I brought?” she asks, searching around in the saxophone case again. He’s getting on the freeway, eastbound express lanes, but he sneaks a glance. Two pieces of paper, folded in half.
“What?”
“Museum tickets. You can buy them online ahead of time.”
“See, Mads? That’s why I chose you for the greatest adventure of our lives. You bring the organization, and I bring . . .” He reaches inside his pocket, no easy trick while he’s merging. He tosses all the cash onto the seat beside them. “The cash.”
“Also this.” She waves two smaller sheets, taped together. He knows what it is. He can see the tiny print and the squares and rectangles of rooms and hallways. “From my own book.”
“Two maps are good. Every person needs one. What are we going to see first, Mads, huh? That awesome bed?”
“I don’t know. I think we should look for the angel first.”
His mom’s station has God for a DJ, because look what’s playing. Fate loves the right music at the right moment, doesn’t it? Any new lover or brokenhearted one will tell you that. And here it is, a favorite song of Billy’s, the Simon and Garfunkel one about the bridge and the troubled water and the rough times. The being weary and the being there. He always turns the radio up, like he does now, when he hears it.
More stuff will come, so much more. Good, bad, downright fantastic; sorry mistakes and shiny triumphs—all that, plus. But never mind the glorious mess that’s the future. Right then, Billy is full of so much love and hope that even the doctor in his head has to shield his eyes from the brightness. Poor sucker, he’s never seen such light.
“Hey, Mads,” Billy says. “I was thinking we could stop and get married. Maybe somewhere in Montana.”
Mads looks at him like he’s crazy. She makes that little scoff in the back of her throat. My God, she’s adorable with that saxophone case on her lap. “It’s way too soon for that, and you know it.”
“On the way home, then.”
Mads smiles and shakes her head like she just cannot believe him. She takes his hand.
It’s a hurdle, but so what. So the hell what. He’s crossed so many bigger ones.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No book would be complete without thanks to my dear longtime agent, Ben Camardi. Special thanks, too, to my dual editors: Sara Sargent, whose talent and insight made this a better book, and Liesa Abrams, kindred spirit, whose support is invaluable. My books and I are lucky to have you.
Big thanks once again to my S&S clan. I appreciate every single one of you: Jon Anderson, Mara Anastas, Mary Marotta, Lucille Rettino, Carolyn Swerdloff, Jennifer Romanello, Michelle Leo, Anthony Parisi, Candace McManus and Betsy Bloom, Jessica Handelman, Regina Flath, Katherine Devendorf, Julie Doebler, Teresa Ronquillo, and Matt Pantoliano. Also double-hugs and gratitude to Christina Pecorale, Leah Hays, Victor Iannone, Christine Foye, and the rest of the sales team at S&S. Readers, these people are the best.
Love and thanks to my family, as ever: Paul Caletti, Evie Caletti, Jan Caletti, Sue Rath, Mitch Rath, and Tyler and Hunter Rath. And most especially Sam Bannon and Nick Bannon, who belong on the first page, the last page, and every page in between, and John Yurich, sweet husband, patient friend, love of my life.
DEB CALETTI is an award-winning author and National Book Award finalist. Her many books for young adults include Stay; The Nature of Jade; and Honey, Baby, Sweetheart, winner of the Washington State Book Award and the PNBA Best Book Award, and a finalist for the PEN USA Award. Her books for adults include He’s Gone and her latest release, The Secrets She Keeps. She lives with her family in Seattle.
SIMON PULSE
Simon & Schuster, New York
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ALSO BY DEB CALETTI
The Queen of Everything
Honey, Baby, Sweetheart
The Nature of Jade
The Fortunes of Indigo Skye
The Secret Life of Prince Charming
The Six Rules of Maybe
Stay
The Story of Us
The Last Forever
AND DON’T MISS
He’s Gone
The Secrets She Keeps
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Simon Pulse hardcover edition April 2016
Text copyright © 2016 by Deb Caletti
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ISBN 978-1-4814-1516-3 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4814-1519-4 (eBook)