The Memory of You
ACCLAIM FOR CATHERINE WEST
“Seamless and elegant, yet brimming with raw and robust emotion, this trip to wine country pulls out all the stops on the scenic route of great fiction. West has cultivated another poignant story of hope and healing all tangled in the vines with a second chance love story you won’t want to miss. One to be breathed and sipped and savored to the last drop!”
—AMY LEIGH SIMPSON, AUTHOR OF WHEN FALL FADES AND FROM WINTER’S ASHES, ON THE MEMORY OF YOU
The Memory of You is a multifaceted story of family relationships that are hindered by secrets shrouded in regrets. Author Cathy West’s realistic writing shines once again as she weaves together several compelling storylines, with each one pointing readers to the need for God’s grace. West also reminds us that truth sets us free from past mistakes, allowing us to embrace the future God has for us.
—BETH K. VOGT, CHRISTY AND CAROL AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR
“Overall, it’s an engrossing and ultimately moving novel, filled with mystery, romance and drama.”
—RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4 STARS, ON THE THINGS WE KNEW
“A beautiful exploration of the bonds that tie us together as family and the secrets that sometimes unravel those threads. Catherine West builds a world worth entering and characters that linger long after the last page is turned.”
—JULIE CANTRELL, NEW YORK TIMES AND USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE FEATHERED BONE, ON THE THINGS WE KNEW
“Smartly written and highly engaging, Catherine West’s The Things We Knew dazzles, piercing the shadows of a family’s tragedy with the light of love.”
—BILLY COFFEY, AUTHOR OF THE CURSE OF CROW HOLLOW AND WHEN MOCKINGBIRDS SING
“Displaying an understanding of the conflicting dynamics of family relationships, Cathy West deftly weaves together the tumultuous story lines of the Carlisle and Cooper families. In The Things We Knew, she wrestles with how secrets can hide the truth of the past and cloud the future.”
—BETH K. VOGT, 2015 RITA FINALIST, AUTHOR OF ALMOST LIKE BEING IN LOVE
“A poignant, multi-faceted novel that pulled me in deeper with every turned page, The Things We Knew so adeptly explores the power of truth and its ability to set us all free. I can’t wait for readers to fall as hopelessly in love with Nick and the Carlisle family as I did. Well done, Catherine West!”
—KATIE GANSHERT, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE ART OF LOSING YOURSELF
“Catherine West’s debut, The Things We Knew, is a beautifully readable exploration of family secrets and their continuing effects on both those who know and don’t know them.”
—CHRISTA PARRISH, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF STILL LIFE AND STONES FOR BREAD
“The Things We Knew is a remarkable story, and author Catherine West is truly a wordsmith.”
—KATHI MACIAS, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF RED INK
“Intriguing setting, realistic characters with all-too-familiar tensions, and a tangle worth tracing to its source make The Things We Knew as satisfying as a Nantucket sunrise.”
—CYNTHIA RUCHTI, AUTHOR OF AS WATERS GONE BY AND SONG OF SILENCE
“Dynamic and lovely. This is a story that will capture your heart from the first page.”
—ALICE J. WISLER, AUTHOR OF RAIN SONG AND UNDER THE SILK HIBISCUS, ON THE THINGS WE KNEW
“Integrally woven, fast-paced, and hard to put down. Loved the setting and loved the characters. Great book!”
—CELESTE FLETCHER MCHALE, AUTHOR OF THE SECRET TO HUMMINGBIRD CAKE, ON THE THINGS WE KNEW
“Winner! Cathy West’s latest novel takes us on a journey into the heartache of aging parents, regrets, and sibling issues in ways that are both penetrating and infused with hope. Well-written, painted with emotional battles, addictions, and romance, West gives us poignant moments that stay long after the final page is turned.”
—JAMES L. RUBART, BESTSELLING AND AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE FIVE TIMES I MET MYSELF, ON THE THINGS WE KNEW
OTHER BOOKS BY CATHERINE WEST
The Things We Knew
© 2017 by Catherine J. West
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Management, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, California 95409–5370, www.booksandsuch.com.
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Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: West, Catherine (Catherine J.), author.
Title: The memory of you / Catherine West.
Description: Nashvillle, Tennesse : Thomas Nelson, 2017.
Epub Edition February 2017 ISBN 9780718078805
Identifiers: LCCN 2016042630 | ISBN 9780718078768 (softcover) Subjects: LCSH: Family-owned business enterprises--Fiction. | Family secrets--Fiction. | Wineries--Fiction. | Domestic fiction. | GSAFD: Christian fiction.
Classification: LCC PR9680.B43 W476 2017 | DDC 813/.6--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016042630
Printed in the United States of America
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For my beautiful daughter, Sarah.
You are experiencing one of God’s greatest blessings as I write
this. A precious new life will soon join our family and you will
become a mother. As you begin this amazing adventure, I pray
you will cherish the daily joys of motherhood and truly know what
a great gift and blessing you have been and continue to be to me.
Contents
Acclaim for Catherine West
Other Books by Catherine West
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
One
THE WOOD-PANELED WALLS OF THE BOARDRO
OM WERE CLOSING in.
Natalie Mitchell fiddled with the strand of pearls around her neck and took deep breaths, painfully aware that every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on her as she stood to the side of the large screen and tried to make sense of the flowchart she had been describing succinctly only moments ago.
“And as you can see, our charitable donations last year gained significant notice in the . . .” Natalie tried to untangle her thoughts. She avoided Peter’s intense gaze and wished for the thousandth time for her ex-fiancé to find employment elsewhere. “In . . .”
Was it sweltering in here? Even as cool air blew from the vents above her, Natalie felt a drop of perspiration slide down her back. She adjusted the collar of her silk blouse and scanned her notes. Come on, think!
“I’m sorry, I . . .” Natalie glanced up and caught her father’s stare. The papers she held slipped from her shaking hands. She bent to pick them up off the floor, straightened, and cast about for one friendly face seated around the long table. Vague expressions and awkward silence forced a final attempt to pull it together.
Somehow she found her voice and made it through the presentation. It wasn’t her best moment. Her father’s frown confirmed it. One of the downsides of working in the family business was constantly having to prove herself. She’d only been head of PR at Mitchell Enterprises for a few months, so the pressure was on.
“Thank you, Natalie.” Her father cleared his throat and raised a brow. “I hope you’re not coming down with that nasty bug going around.”
He didn’t expect an answer. Not here. Natalie managed a weak smile and sat in miserable silence through the rest of the meeting. The minute it was over she gathered her things and fled the room.
She barely made it to the bathroom before the nausea overtook her.
The screeching of tires and the sickening thud that followed played over and over in her mind, no matter how hard she willed the memory away.
How was she supposed to live like this?
She’d been doing so well the past few years. This regression had to be temporary. Natalie shook her head and glared at her flushed face in the mirror. Weeks ago she could have believed that. But this had been going on too long. It was time to do something about it.
She also knew one thing her father didn’t. This was no bug.
That Friday night she finally agreed to join her parents for a weekend away from the city. She loved New York, but lately the noisy, crowded city set her on edge.
Natalie sat on the porch of their Yarmouth, Cape Cod home after dinner, hoping the fresh, early September sea air would revive her shattered spirit. After the fiasco of a meeting on Tuesday, she’d given in and seen her doctor that afternoon. And the news wasn’t good.
Sleepless nights, lack of appetite, nausea, and flashbacks. All the familiar signs were there. He was concerned about the possibility of another breakdown. Started her on new meds and wished she’d come in sooner.
Now she sat in semidarkness, debating with herself. She couldn’t tell her parents what was really going on.
There was no quick fix for this.
“Nat-a-lie? Are you out here?”
Natalie pulled the colorful patchwork quilt tight around her shoulders and waited.
Her mother’s succinct steps drew closer.
The screen door squeaked open and banged shut.
Heels tapped out an unbroken code on the one-hundred-year-old wooden planks as Jane Mitchell marched across the upper porch with purpose. “There you are. For heaven’s sake! It’s freezing tonight, you’ll catch your death.”
Natalie swiped her cheeks and sent the white rocker into high gear.
Her mother gripped the arms of the chair and brought it to an abrupt halt. “Natalie!”
The moon escaped the clouds and illuminated her wide, worried eyes. “What’s going on? Your father says you almost lost it at a meeting the other day.”
Natalie huffed and averted her gaze. “I did not almost lose it. I was fine.”
“Like you’ve been fine ever since June when you and Peter called off your engagement?”
“Mom, if you invited me out here for the weekend to rehash all that, I’d rather not.”
“I’m worried about you. We both are.”
“You needn’t be. I just had a bad day. That’s all.” A bad few months.
“Come downstairs to the study. Your father wants to talk to you.”
“Talk or lecture?”
Her mother backed up, smoothed her crisply creased linen trousers, and patted her sleek bottle-blond chignon. The salty breeze would coax a few stray curls out of confinement any minute. “Are you coming?”
“Yes.” No use refusing. She extricated herself from the rocker, dragging the quilt along.
In her father’s study on the first floor, a fire danced and beckoned her over to wiggle her cold fingers before the yellow and orange flames. Strains of Vivaldi filtered through speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling.
Her mother scoured the area like a sergeant on patrol, picking dead bits off her prize-winning violets and straightening magazines already stacked in perfect piles along the gleaming cherry wood coffee table.
Bill Mitchell held court behind his desk. The lines that creased his brow said whatever he planned to discuss was serious.
“You wanted to see me?” Natalie shuffled across the rich red-toned Persian rug and stood before him, thirteen years old again.
We’re sending you away, Nat. It’s a lovely school. You’ll be happy there. You can move on, put all this behind you . . .
Her mother positioned herself in one of the burgundy leather armchairs across from him and waved Natalie toward its twin. “Sit, Natalie.”
Natalie sat and tried to shove off apprehension.
Dad leaned forward and studied her. “I’m concerned about the way you’ve withdrawn since June. We haven’t been able to get you out here all summer. Natalie, I have to ask. Are you . . .” He blew out a breath and sat back, unable to say it.
Are you having another breakdown?
Natalie sank a little lower in her chair.
That awful night at the beginning of June when she’d shown up at Peter’s apartment unannounced, only to find him with another woman, had flicked some invisible switch. Since then, she’d been battling the past and all its demons 24/7.
“Don’t worry. I’m totally fine.”
“I don’t think you are fine.” Her father sounded perfectly calm, as though a maelstrom wasn’t brewing. But his eyes told a different story. He was a highly respected businessman, but known as someone you did not want to cross. Unfortunately, she often felt the same.
“Dad, I said I’m—”
He held up a hand. “One moment you’re giving a presentation at a board meeting, the next you can’t finish a sentence. You’re working long hours, but frankly, the last two presentations haven’t been what I expect from you. And from what we can surmise, you spend far too much time alone in your apartment.” He paused, letting each volley of words reach their intended target. “Is it just the breakup with Peter or is there more going on?”
She couldn’t find the courage to tell her parents the truth. Couldn’t admit that, once again, she had failed to meet life’s challenges with the stoicism modeled by them.
Dad exhaled and downed dark liquid from a crystal tumbler. The storm in his eyes abated, but he still didn’t look pleased. “Natalie, you can talk to us.” He took on a kinder tone. “We only want to help.”
“You want to help?” Natalie echoed, the irony mind-numbing. She dug her fingernails into her palms and stared at the marks they left. She remembered the last time her parents had tried to “help” and shuddered at the thought.
What could she say now?
A shutter banged against the side of the house and shook her. The evening’s predicted storm was rolling in.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Bill!” Her mother’s horror was almost humorous.
“What, Jane? It’s a logical question, is it not?”
Natalie watched them shoot sharp, swift, and silent arrows at each other.
When had they chosen sides, turned into opposing teams?
“No, Dad. I’m not pregnant.” If she remembered those high school health classes correctly, you actually had to have sex with someone for that to happen.
“Well, that’s a relief.” Color crept back to his cheeks. “In any event, I think you need some time to get yourself together. I’d like to suggest you take a leave of absence.”
“A what?” Natalie stared at her father and tried to mentally swerve around the hairpin turn in the conversation. He was cagey. Brilliant, really. You never knew when he was trying to catch you out until after the fact.
“We think you need a break. So I’d like you to go to California.”
He really needed to stop throwing verbal knives in her direction.
“California?”
The return of her nightmares had already sent her world careening off course, chaining her to a roller-coaster ride she couldn’t stop.
No. Going west was not an option.
Aggravation niggled the corner of her father’s mouth. “Well?”
“I can’t take time off now. I’ve got important meetings all next week. I . . . are you actually serious?” Natalie tossed the quilt off her shoulders.
“Quite.” Dad set down his glass. “We’ve got people to cover for you. I want you to go to Sonoma. To see your grandfather.”
“Grandpa Hal?” Natalie tried to tear her thoughts from the multitude of scenarios about what would happen at work in her absence, pulled fingers through her tangled mess of hair, and searched the photographs on the bookcase behind her father’s desk.
Silver frames encased the images of their childhood—school portraits, Christmas dinners, Natalie’s brief foray into show jumping, her high school grad photo—and tucked between the bigger moments of their lives sat a small black-and-white image of Hal Mitchell holding a chubby two-year-old Natalie on his knee.
She hadn’t seen her grandfather in years.
But going back to Sonoma . . . the place she’d tried to ignore for so long . . . until the memories barged back in and refused to retreat. Images of that dark night never really went away. Thirteen years had passed since Nicole’s death, yet it could have happened yesterday. There were other places she could go if he insisted on her taking a vacation.