It Comes In Waves (26 page)

“We could. But that would mean leaving this hammock.”

He grinned, taking the beer back from her. “Then what do you suggest?”

“Fasting, of course.”

“Sounds good.” Gus lowered his foot to the deck to give them a push. Margot wandered by, her tail brushing Claire's toes.

“Ever get out to Colorado?” she asked him.

“As a matter of fact, I have an old friend who teaches skiing out there.”

Claire closed her eyes and smiled. “Maybe you should visit him.”

“Maybe I should visit you instead.”

Her eyes still closed, Claire felt the hammock shift as Gus lowered the bottle to the deck.

“You should know I can't cook,” she said, feeling the brief slack of the ropes as his body came over hers.

“
Now
you tell me.”

September 5, 2003

Claire,

I hope this letter makes its way to you. I'm sure if you see the name on the envelope, you'll have mixed feelings about opening it. I won't blame you if you tear it up unopened, if you burn it, if you send it back. I debated for weeks on whether or not to send it. Before that, I debated just as long on whether or not to address it to Claire or Pepper. Apparently I've grown indecisive in my old age.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about how it was for all of us here in Folly. No matter the season, someone rides the waves here to remind me of all we shared, and I'm back there in my head every time. Just the other day, I saw a woman on her board and I swear it could have been you. She looked so happy out there, and I know it sounds crazy, but I believed it was a sign. Proof that life had brought you to a good place, a joyful place. I'm writing because I want to believe it's true. Because I know that what we all shared on this beach, all those years, made us who we are today.

I know I hurt you and I let you down and I know I can't ever make that right. But I hope with all my heart that life has been good to you and that you've carved a wave worthy of your gifts, Pepper.

F.

GOLDEN, COLORADO

Two months later

S
omewhere between the start of classes and endless faculty meetings, fall had arrived.

Standing on her deck with a mug of coffee, Claire marveled at the fact. The air was crisper. The aspen leaves had ripened into their autumn gold. The forecast was even predicting snow—snow!—in the next week.

Claire would be glad to see it. The first snowfall always made her happy, made her believe that fresh starts were possible, like a blank sheet of paper. This year, she looked forward to the clean slate of the season's first storm more than ever. When she'd returned from Folly, she buried herself in schoolwork and class lessons, trying to give Lizzie the space to find her way back to her. Then, remarkably, Lizzie had discovered that Colin had been seeing another girl—a fellow senior whose father, it turned out, had been the one to call into the school and report Colin, a series of revelations that had resulted in Lizzie arriving unexpectedly at Claire's door, red-eyed and despondent. After a marathon night of movies and Ben & Jerry's pints, Claire wished her daughter a good night and slept deeply, for the first time in months. What a difference a few weeks made. Claire looked forward to more changes in the weeks to come. She had plenty of her own to make too.

The front door lock clicked. Lizzie was home. Claire stepped back into the apartment and smiled to see her daughter come inside. A downtown gallery had advertised an internship at the start of school; Lizzie had shocked Claire by applying, then announced that she'd won it. Four weeks in, her daughter had fallen in love with the work.

“How did they say the opening went last night?” Claire asked.

“Isla said it was incredible.” Lizzie swung off her scarf, then her teal beanie cap. “They sold eight pieces.”

“What about the
Heron
?”

“Sold!” said Lizzie proudly. “I knew that one would go right away. I told Isla. She said I have a good eye.”

“She would know.” Claire noticed the package on the counter as she walked to the carafe. “What's that?”

“I don't know. It was on the steps,” said Lizzie. “It's for you.”

Claire picked up the padded envelope and scanned the return address, her heart lifting.
G. Gallagher. Fins, Folly Beach, SC.

She tore it open like a Christmas present. Reaching in, she pulled out a DVD, a bright red rash guard, and a folded piece of lined paper. She fell against the counter and read the letter hungrily.

 

Hi, Hot Stuff . . . I got a copy of the show's rough cut today and I thought you'd enjoy seeing it. Despite all the crap they put you through, they must have smartened up on their way to the editing room, because your segment is fantastic. They tell me the show should air sometime in March, but who knows? All I know is the waves have been great, and there's a short board here I've been getting into shape with your name on it. (I'm serious: I've painted your name on it.) A supplier sent new samples to the store yesterday. This red one made me think of you. Swells are good right now, but I predict next summer they'll be even better, so make sure to bring the rash guard with you when you come back. I can imagine how amazing you look in it, but I'd rather not have to.

I hope you're well. Margot does too.

Gus

 

“What is this thing?” Lizzie arrived beside her, picking up the red spandex.

“It's a rash guard,” Claire said, tucking the letter safely back into the empty package. “People wear them surfing to protect their skin from rubbing against the board.”

“
You
would wear this?”

“Yes, I would,” Claire said proudly. “And I will. Next summer, as a matter of fact.”

“Next summer? What's happening next summer?”

Claire shrugged, grinned. “A lot, hopefully.”

Lizzie held up the case. “So, what's on the DVD?”

“My interview.”

“Wait—” Lizzie's eyes rounded. “You mean the one we went to South Carolina for?”

Claire nodded.

“Well, aren't you going to watch it?”

“I'm sure I will eventually,” Claire said.

“Why not right now?”

Claire stared at her daughter, startled at the genuine interest on her face. “You really want to watch it now?”

Lizzie was already snapping the DVD out of its case and sliding it into her opened computer. “Is there any of that cheesecake left?”

Claire smiled. “Tons.”

While Lizzie carried her laptop to the coffee table and scrolled to the DVD's menu, Claire cut them fat slices of cherry cheesecake and delivered them with generous swirls of whipped cream. Lizzie dragged her finger through the white cloud and grinned.

They settled back into the couch. The film began.

“Don't feel like you have to watch the whole thing,” Claire said. “We can just skip the slow parts.”

“No way,” said Lizzie, already halfway through her slice. “I want to see all of it.”

“You're sure?”

“Absolutely. I've got plenty of time.”

Claire looked over at her daughter and smiled.

Maybe today they did.

Writing about the bond between parents and children always reminds me what a fascinating, fierce and fragile thing it can be. I was fortunate to have parents who let me follow my heart far more often than my head. To my mother and father, I hope you both know how grateful I am for your faith in this dreamer and her relentless dreaming.

My warmest thanks to Richard Harris and Ben Constable for letting me pepper you with questions on surfing, and your tireless answers that kept me from looking like a “kook” on the page. Wishing you both continued joy in the curl.

To my editor, Danielle Perez, for encouraging me to dig deeper—this story is so much richer because of your insights and I'm very grateful. And my thanks to everyone at New American Library, especially Christina Brower, Caitlin Valenziano, Jessica Butler, and Mimi Bark for the gorgeous cover.

To my agent, Rebecca Gradinger, thank you for everything on this journey. Here's to the roads and the stories still ahead.

My gratitude to the booksellers whose stores and infectious love of books inspire us to keep reading, writing and imagining. Your support means the world.

And a very special thank-you to the readers who love the stories of our collective hearts as much as I do. In today's busy world, I know how hard it can be to find a moment to ourselves, so I'm honored that you have given your time to my books. I hope I continue to earn a place on your reading shelf.

A native New Englander who was raised in Maine,
Erika Marks
has worked as an illustrator, an art director, a cake decorator, and a carpenter. She currently lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, with her husband, a native New Orleanian, and their two daughters. This is her fourth novel.

This Conversation Guide is intended to enrich the individual reading experience, as well as encourage us to explore these topics together—because books, and life, are meant for sharing.

Editor:
The culture of surfing plays a significant role, as many of the characters are shaped and defined by their relation to it. What drew you to write about the world of surfing? Were you ever a surfer? What kinds of research did you do to draw such an accurate and vivid picture?

Erika:
I have always been fascinated by the sport of surfing, but I don't think I really appreciated how much until I moved to California after college and lived among the surfing culture. Now that I live in North Carolina, we are just three hours from the water and great surfing, and many of the friends we've made here in Charlotte are accomplished surfers who regularly ride along the Carolina coast, so I was fortunate for this novel to have access to expert surfers who helped make my characters look like they knew what they were doing—even if
I'm
still learning!

Editor:
You do a wonderful job evoking an intimate, atmospheric portrait of Folly Beach, South Carolina. What is your relationship to this town? Have you visited there often? Do you have any specific memories that inspired you to write about this place? How did your experiences help shape your fictional portrayal of the town?

Erika:
I adore Folly Beach and have been there many times. My family and I discovered it when we first moved to North Carolina and have been hooked ever since. Part of what I love about it is that it feels very authentic and community-oriented. As always when I write about real places, I hope my affection shines through and that I do justice to the landscape in a way that pleases its residents as well as encourages the interest of those readers who might not have known about the place previously and will now want to visit.

Editor:
The relationship between mothers and their children, and the different ways a mother's choices can impact their children, plays an important role in the novel. As a mother, was it easier or harder to write about the problems of parenthood? Were any of the relationships (or frictions in those relationships) informed by your own experiences?

Erika:
There's no question that for me, writing about relationships—be they romantic, familial, friendship—is my favorite part of creating a story. And like writing romantic relationships, I think relationships between parents and children have the remarkable condition of being both wholly universal and yet infinitely unique to the individuals. I've explored mother-daughter bonds in my earlier novels but in those stories—for the most part—the bonds were strong and the relationships solid and healthy. For this novel, I wanted to look into a more strained mother-daughter relationship and how the struggles within that can impact further generations of mothering.

As a mother, I very much related to Claire's raw need to belong to her child, to be needed by her, and to fear the inevitable fragility that comes with watching that bond grow and age and ultimately, necessarily, thin. At a certain point, children have to be independent in a truly severing way, and so often I think it is far scarier for parents to watch their children take flight than it is for the child leaving the nest. My daughters are still young, but even so I am acutely aware of my own challenge to balance those instincts. I was a fiercely independent child and yet, I sometimes struggle to imagine my daughters showing that same independence, even though I know it is vital to their evolution and their sense of self.

Along those lines, it was important to me to show the nuances of Maura, Claire's mother. Clearly, Maura's mothering differed from Claire's with her daughter, Lizzie, but like any relationship, the layers are thick and what we see isn't always what is. Part of Claire's growth in the novel comes from her gaining a better understanding of who her mother was and is—and coming to peace with that knowledge in order to move forward in her own life and her relationship with her own daughter.

Editor:
Did you find it more difficult to write about Claire or Jill? Do you feel more sympathy for one of these characters? Why?

Erika:
I love this question. Initially, in early drafts of the novel, I felt my sympathies were very one-sided toward Claire, but as I worked through the revision process, Jill's character changed and became much more sympathetic, and I began to find myself torn, caring deeply for both women. Part of what I love about the revision process is that it offers the opportunity to flesh out characters we as writers think we know, but we don't, not yet. It is during those subsequent drafts that I find I really understand what makes my characters tick and with that understanding comes deep compassion and concern for their well-being.

Both Claire and Jill have suffered great loss in their lives—not just the loss of their mutual love, Foster, but also the loss of their friendship. There are qualities to both women that I love and admire and cause me to have great sympathy for them. Claire, for example, is highly emotional and utterly unapologetic for it, which, not surprisingly, has driven her to make many bad choices over the years. But still she is who she is—and that honesty, that vulnerability makes her relatable. Jill, by contrast, is stable and nurturing, a real caretaker—yet she too struggles to balance that in the face of heartache. At their core, they are both good and loving women just trying to do the best they can, and I wanted them to find peace, not just with each other, but with themselves, by the book's end. I like to think they did.

Editor:
There are a lot of tough, emotional moments in the novel as friends and lovers deal with lies, betrayal, and the consequences of their actions. Which scene was the hardest for you to write?

Erika:
I knew when I set out to write this novel, and I began to piece together the relationships, the emotional stakes within the story would be high, and there would be many scenes revealing the buildup and fallout of those intense emotions. For me, there is nothing more exciting than writing those scenes. But that said, the challenge can be great to get them right.

Without giving anything away, I would say the first hardest scene to write was the one of Foster and Claire in the shower, the night before he confesses his love for Jill, because Foster is trying to prepare Claire—without explicitly telling her—that he will be breaking her heart. I think we've all been on both sides of that conversation. So writing it, I wanted badly to have Claire see what Foster was trying to say, to spare her the heartache, all the while knowing that her devoted heart wouldn't allow her to read between the lines, and that I couldn't write it any other way and keep her character authentic.

Another scene that was difficult to write was the first time Claire and Jill see each other when Claire returns to Folly. It is a group scene—the estranged best friends reunite in the kitchen of a house they all used to share—and Jill's and Claire's children are there too, as is Shep, so the emotional energy is somewhat defused, but more than that, I struggled to decide how that first moment would go. If they would hug, if they would smile, what they would say—or would they not say anything? I rewrote that scene many, many times, exploring all the possibilities until it felt right to me—or better yet, right to Claire and Jill.

Editor:
One of the most enduring images of the book is Claire's bright red swimsuit. Was there a reason you chose to use the color red?

Erika:
I loved the idea of Claire shocking Foster and his friends both with her surfing skills and by donning a color that would startle them, even if she chooses the color somewhat offhandedly. It becomes her trademark and inspires her nickname. I find color a fascinating element in stories, and I know I always pick up on color when I read, so I am always drawn to assigning colors to certain characters or plot elements in my own novels—sometimes without even being aware in the moment that I'm giving significance to a certain color, which can make the association even richer.