Outsiders come too, visiting those they thought were lost. Even my parents have come—my mother finally admitting to my father the truth—and she walks through the garden, recalling a time long ago when she lived in these woods, when she gave birth to a little girl who found her way back.
Parker and Theo still guard the gate, they keep the outside from spilling in too quickly—they keep reporters and TV crews from converging on our quiet life.
We’re building something new.
The kind of place the founders had set out to make. A slower life, a return to something lost. And sometimes, I wonder if Levi wasn’t entirely to blame for what happened to us—perhaps we allowed ourselves to be fooled, because we wanted to be someone else.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs echo down the hall, and the bedroom door swings open. It’s Netta, carrying a glass bottle. “It’s all Roona had,” she says, handing the bottle to Faye.
“It’ll be enough,” Faye answers, taking the bottle of neroli oil and pouring some into her palms. “The baby is ready,” she says, touching Bee’s stomach with her hands. “It’s time to push.”
I brush Bee’s hair back from her face, last summer’s freckles dotting her cheeks and forehead. I will tell the story of Bee in my book—if there are still stories inside me—I will tell how she lost her eyesight then gained it back; I will tell how a man named Travis came in search of me, how if we had met before, in the outside, we might never have fallen in love. But here, in Pastoral, we became who we were always meant to be.
The story will begin with a man driving down a snow-covered road in search of a barn. In search of a woman who would become his wife.
There is no history in a place until we make it, until you live a life worth remembering. We have made a history here—some of it was more folklore than truth, more fear than anything else. But some of it was good. Some of it lives inside each of us, the history of this wild, wild land.
Bee lets out a low cry and her chin tilts to the ceiling. It will be a long delivery, several more hours until the baby finally wails into the night sky and feels the first drops of rain against her skin through the open window. And I wonder if she will love this place as I do. If she will feel rooted here at birth.
If she will look up at the stars and know, we’re all just trying to find our way home.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Pastoral was not always as idyllic as it seemed, but I hope you found some quiet solitude within its pages. As I know I did while writing it.
There are many people to thank for bringing this book to life. My agent, Jess Regel, has been by my side for the last ten years, and I couldn’t imagine a better partner to help usher my books into the world. Thank you, Jess, for all the countless revisions, phone calls, and encouragement. This one is for you.
Loan Le, my magnificent editor （and also a brilliant writer herself）， dove headfirst into this story with me, and we found the heart of this book together. Loan, I feel so lucky that this book found its way into your hands.
To everyone at Atria Books who has worked behind the scenes to bring this story to life: THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. Libby McGuire, Lindsay Sagnette, Dana Trocker, Lisa Sciambra, Suzanne Donahue, James Iacobelli, Danielle Mazzella di Bosco—who crafted a stunning cover—Gena Lanzi, Maudee Genao, Paige Lytle, Jessie McNiel, Fausto Bozza, Jill Putorti, Sara Kitchen, Nicole Bond, Lauren Castner, and Elizabeth Mims—for your brilliant copyediting.
Thank you Jenny Meyer and Heidi Gall for all your hustle in foreign rights. Leo Teti—thank you for believing in my books, and for all your ongoing support. To Tara Hart, thank you for reading the very first book when I signed with Jess, and for loving it. A BIG thanks to Jody Hotchkiss for finding ways to turn my books into even larger stories—I’m beyond grateful to have you in my corner!
Cassie and all the hardworking humans at Roundabout Books, thank you for always shelving my books face out, and for being my home away from home. Thank you to the reviewers, bloggers, booksellers, bookstagrammers, and authors who read early copies and said nice things. You are the true magic that helps a book find the right readers.
To my talented, kind, unstoppable writer friends: You inspire me every day with the stories you create. You know who you are.
To my parents, thank you for being the first storytellers in my life. And for letting me read Stephen King and Dean Koontz when I was much too young. To Sky, thank you for reminding me to trust the story inside me. It’s always there if you choose to listen.
To the readers: We have gone on many adventures together. Thank you for going on one more.