Things were better than ever with David, but she still needed these times of being alone, her only concern the power of her body as she drove herself on.
She pulled up outside their apartment thirty minutes later. They’d been fortunate that the apartment had been above the water level of the surge, but even here, reminders of the hurricane were everywhere. It clung to the building with its restored windows and shiny new gutters, and appeared to hang in the air as if reminding Galveston’s citizens that it wasn’t over; that for them, it would never truly be over.
Checking her watch as she sprinted up the stairs, she realized she would have to shower quickly. They were due at the meeting in forty minutes. She’d started attending the weekly gatherings once they’d resumed, and had even, red-faced, met Rebecca Whitehead. At first, she’d felt out of place in the group, but hearing the other stories of families who’d endured the pain of child loss had, in its own melancholy way, brought her to a better understanding of what had happened to her and David. So much so that last week she’d spoken for the first time in front of the group. The experience had been so cathartic that it was hard now to imagine what had stopped her in the first place.
“Hey, sweaty,” said David, kissing her on the cheek the second she opened the door.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Look,” he said, thrusting his phone in her face.
“Give me a sec,” she said, taking a step back as she focused on the screen.
After a lot of soul searching, they’d decided together that they didn’t want to try directly for a baby again. Many in the group had already given birth after their first stillborn experience, but the chance of it happening again was something she wasn’t prepared to face. But that hadn’t stopped them looking at other avenues.
“Next week?” she said, her vision wavering, then blurring altogether until she backhanded the tear away.
The message on the phone was from an adoption agency who wanted to interview them.
“It’s hard not to get too excited,” said David, grabbing her. “But dammit, it’s too late.”
It was just the first step on a long road, but Laurie agreed with her husband. She gave him another hug, giggling as she pulled away in her sweaty clothes, and skipped to the bathroom to shower.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Huge thanks to everyone who has contributed in some way to The Running Girls.
The wonderful team at Thomas & Mercer: the book’s editor, Leodora Darlington, for her help in shaping the story, Jenni Davis for the perfect copy-edits, Sadie Mayne for her detailed proofreading, Tom Sanderson for his beautiful cover, Nicole Wagner for all her behind-the-scenes assistance, Dan Griffin and all the marketing team for helping the books reach as wide an audience as possible, and Sammia Hamer for pulling everything together at the end.
My wonderful development editor, David Downing, for his invaluable help in shaping the story. It truly wouldn’t be the same book without his input.
Alexia Capsomidis for her early readthrough and feedback.
My Texan family and friends, in particular Beth and Warren Eardley, for their early feedback and notes on Galveston and the surrounding area.
To Herbie for his cameo.
To Alison, Freya, and Hamish for being my inspiration.
And finally, to the wonderful people of Galveston. I hope I did your wonderful island city justice in the writing of The Running Girls. The book was written out of love, and I look forward to visiting you again soon.