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| Categories | Genre Fiction |
| Author | Kristin Hannah |
| Publisher | Ballantine Books; Reprint edition (June 28, 2011) |
| Language | English |
| Paperback | 368 pages |
| Item Weight | 8.8 ounces |
| Dimensions |
5.19 x 0.78 x 7.97 inches |
I. Book introduction
“Distant Shores” is a compelling and exquisitely written novel that takes readers on a journey of self-discovery, love, and profound introspection. Authored by best-selling writer Kristen Hannah, this book encapsulates her literary prowess and storytelling genius, leaving readers captivated from the very first page.
Elizabeth and Jackson Shore married young, raised two daughters, and weathered the storms of youth as they built a family. From a distance, their lives look picture perfect. But after the girls leave home, Jack and Elizabeth quietly drift apart. When Jack accepts a wonderful new job, Elizabeth puts her own needs aside to follow him across the country.
Then tragedy turns Elizabeth’s world upside down. In the aftermath, she questions everything about her life—her choices, her marriage, even her long-forgotten dreams. In a daring move that shocks her husband, friends, and daughters, she lets go of the woman she has become—and reaches out for the woman she wants to be.
Editorial Reviews
- “There are real-life lessons here told with truth, humor, and courage. You will love this story.”—Adriana Trigiani, author of Brava, Valentine
- “In fast-moving prose punctuated by snappy asides, [Kristin] Hannah examines whether love and commitment are enough to sustain a marriage when two people who have put their individual dreams on ice get a chance to defrost them. . . . Bottom Line: Shore bet.”—People
- “Tender and moving, Distant Shores will have you smiling one minute and reaching for the Kleenex the next.”—Eileen Goudge, author of Once in a Blue Moon
- “Certain to strike a chord . . . winning characterizations . . . and a few surprises.”—The Seattle Times
- “A compelling tale of true love . . . full of honest emotion.”—The Florida Times-Union
About Kristin Hannah
Kristin Hannah (born September 25, 1960) is an American writer. Her most notable works include Winter Garden, The Nightingale, Firefly Lane, The Great Alone, and The Four Winds. In 2024, St. Martin’s Publishing Group published her novel, The Women, which is set in America in the 1960s.
Kristin Hannah was born in California. After graduating with a degree in communication from the University of Washington, Hannah worked at an advertising agency in Seattle. She graduated from the University of Puget Sound law school and practiced law in Seattle before becoming a full-time writer. Hannah wrote her first novel with her mother, who was dying of cancer at the time, but the book was never published.
Hannah’s best-selling work, The Nightingale, has sold over 4.5 million copies worldwide and has been published in 45 languages.
Hannah lives on Bainbridge Island, Washington, with her husband and their son.
II. Reviewer: Distant Shores by Kristin Hannah
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1. HANNAH IM reviews for Distant Shores
Rounding up to 5.
Wish I’d had a box of tissues near the end. Kristin Hannah is one of my favorite writers. Her characters are well developed. In this case, I found nearly wanting both Birdie and Jack to have affairs, but for different reasons. I wanted to root Birdie on and cheer for her; while I wanted another reason to vilify Jack. Whether they had one or not will be up to you to discover on your own, but that’s what I mean about the character development.
Loved Anita. I think she deserves a spinoff story of her own, and maybe Birdie’s mother too. Her daughters were the weakest part of the story for me – more accessories to Jack’s conscience than anything else.
Not sure if I would’ve ended the book the same way, but I’m fully satisfied nonetheless, though I still wish Jack would’ve suffered a little bit more.
2. STACEY reviews for Distant Shores
“It hadn’t been until she’d lost her youth and finished raising her children that she’d bothered to wonder, what came next.?”
To me, Kristin Hannah can do no wrong. This book is one of her dated novels, but still a great read. It tells the story of a woman named Elizabeth, who is 45-years-old, been married to her college sweetheart for twenty years, and raised two girls. She’s gotten lost along the way of being “Jack’s wife” and “Jaime and Stephanie’s mom”.
This book has so many great life lessons within it’s pages. Elizabeth is struggling to find herself again while learning how to cope with grief.
My favorite passage:
“She lay there a long time, staring up at her ceiling, watching a spider 🕷 spin a web in the rafters. He was always there, that same little black spider, returning to his spot no matter how many times she dusted his web away. There was a life lesson in that.”
3. CHERYL LEWIS reviews for Distant Shores
Once again, Kristin Hannah has failed to disappoint me with her writing. The haunting portrayal of a woman in her 40’s, whom realizes how most of her life she has been living for others’ (her husband, her 2 grown children that are now off at university). The “empty next syndrome” forces Elizabeth (the central character of the book) to reexamine her life, her goals, her relationships with friends, her daughters and her marriage.
With her children out the house, and her husband consumed with work, Elizabeth must create new dreams for herself, set goals, and rediscover a talent to paint that she had forgotten so long ago. The book is beautifully written, with prose that had me visualizing the Distant Shores with clarity, as though I were standing beside the author on the beach.
Definitely add this to your “to read” shelves. Kristin Hannah allows the reader to escape into the pages… but she also forces the reader to explore your own desires, dreams and forgotten talents & goals. Loved this book!
4. KAREN reviews for Distant Shores
Story of Elizabeth’s 24 year old marriage in crises, a wife who has given up her dreams for her husband and children. Watching her own life pass her by as she became the best wife and mother she knew how to be, she no longer looks in the mirror and sees a whole and happy woman looking back. A lot of truth and enlightenment came thru on the pages of this book. It is one to be remembered, the finding of one’s self, how to follow some of your own dreams while still doing for those you love. I especially liked the relationship between the main character, Elizabeth and her stepmother, Anita. We are never too old to learn.
5. MARCIA reviews for Distant Shores
How does she always grab your heart?
For all.of us who have reached that point of wondering who we are and where we are headed, dreaming of the what ifs and could haves, reading this story will make.you realize how common this is. When did we give up being us and become a pale reflection of someone else? If the Ship
Has already sailed do I stand a
chance of catching up to it ? Definitely introspective and emotional. Give it a read, she is a terrific writer.
6. BH reviews for Distant Shores
Slow-paced beginning that draws you in.
I loved the story of an almost-ordinary family as they faced daily life. The days and months go slow but I felt I was living it with them. I loved the way the ending came naturally but not assumed. The only thing I didn’t like was that such a gifted and famous writer joined the popular bandwagon to solve one issue–doing it quickly but getting that hot subject in her book and moving on. I would still recommend the book and author.
7. JOSEPH J.TRUNCALE reviews for Distant Shores
A somewhat interesting novel about how the changes in life affect a couple.
Reading this type of novel is not my usual reading interest; however, being my wife and I are well into our senior years, and she recommended this book, (Distant Shores: A novel by Kristin Hannah), I also decided to read it. I admit to finding it somewhat interesting. Not that our personal life was the same as the theme of this novel, because it was not, but some aspects of our lives and emotional factors the author relates in this book probably occur to most people who have lived a full life but still think they have missed something.
This story revolves around a couple (Elizabeth and Jackson Shore) who got married when they were young and had two daughters and raised their family; however, when the children leave their nests, (like they do in most families), the changes begin to happen involving the couple.
I never reveal too much information when reviewing any novel, but if you like Kristin Hannah’s women’s romance novels you should check out this one.
Rating: 4 Stars. Joseph J. Truncale (Author: Season of the warrior: A poetic tribute to warriors).
8. PAM reviews for Distant Shores
I don’t agree with anyone rating the book with less than 5 stars.
I read this book in a few days, very good. Kept my interest. I was motivated to write this review because I don’t think the negative remarks are correct. I bet that you would find most negative reviews are written from younger readers, that don’t have the history of marriage after 30 plus years. I have been married 50 years and found the book very romantic, and realistic. At some point in a marriage of great lengths, there will be questions of, should I, would I, could I have made the wrong decision. Luckily for her she had the time to figure it out without loosing her husband in the process. Its difficult to keep your own identity while being married for 50 years. I don’t want to give away any part of book, but I related to it, and if I read a book that holds me from page 1, in its self that is encouraging me to finish the book.
9. SALLY WOLF reviews for Distant Shores
This book is about a bird who falls out of her nest because she has forgotten how to fly. Elizabeth Shore aka “Birdie” realizes one day that her life is not all it is cracked up to be. She has a husband, and two wonderful kids but somewhere along the way she has lost herself. After a tragedy in the family shakes her foundation. Grief forces her from her nest and she realizes that has to find the deep down love for herself and her lost passions before she can fly up to her nest to be loved once more. Along the way there is hurt feelings, and a drastic brake-ups but in the end she gains more than she bargains for. I really enjoyed this book it reminded how important it is not to give up on my writing no matter how hectic my real life gets. The only problem I had with this book is that the pacing is painfully slow, but maybe that was the point, as it was a book about healing relationships and that process is never easy or quick. I would recommend this book to anyone who likes romance, or is struggling to find themselves.
10. RON WROBLEWSKI reviews for Distant Shores
Ever since I was a small child, I have enjoyed reading. I read for enjoyment, knowledge, and lessons learned. This book has all 3. Here are some quotes of lessons learned:
“I’ve never met a woman who’d stay with me for 24 years. Who’d get me off dope and forgive my screwups. If I found a woman like that…I’d never let her go.”
“She’d walked away from every good thing she’d ever built so that she could find herself. Well, she’d found a woman whose greatest gift was in helping others, in loving people and supporting their dreams. “
And the book ends with a wonderful quote from Richard Back’s book “Illusions”, a great book given to me many years ago by a wonderful friend: “You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however.”
Stick with the people who really care for you.
nuf said.
III. Distant Shores Quotes by Kristin Hannah
The best book quotes from Distant Shores by Kristin Hannah
“Her biggest failure had been an inability to love herself as well as she’d loved her family.”
“Life, she realized suddenly, was like this wave. Sometimes you had to dive into trouble to come out on the other side.”
“Promises were a lot like impressions. The second one didn’t count for much.”
“True love is a rare thing. We lean on it for years without botherin’ to look at what’s holdin’ us up. It lasts forever, as the poets say, but life doesn’t.”
“Finding your passion isn’t just about careers and money. It’s about finding your authentic self. The one you’ve buried beneath other people’s needs.”
“Promises were a lot like impressions. The second one didn’t count for much.”
“It had been years since she question his fidelity, but he’d stepped on to the old fame track again, and that was where the road had taken them before. Infidelity could be forgiven, but forgetting it was impossible. Strangely, that wasn’t what bothered her the most. What bothered her was that she didn’t really care.”
“My husband ran off with his secretary. His male secretary. the only passion I have lately seems to center around buying a handgun. Unfortunately, I can’t decide which one of us to shoot.”
“I prefer to scare myself in the ordinary ways, Daddy. Like letting my children cross the country for college. Why bungee jump when you can put a kindergartener on a school bus? Now, that’s real terror.”
“Elizabeth: “Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
Meghann: “Birdie, they all surprise me. Last week, I hugged my date at the door and felt a bra strap.”“The trip from Portland to New York City was like climbing Mount Everest without oxygen. It went on and on, and by the time you reached your destination, there was no sensation left in your extremities.”
“Hey, Meg,” she said without preamble. I need you to write a letter of recommendation for me. I’m applying for grad school.”
Meghann screamed into the phone. “Oh, my God! I’m so proud of you. I’m hanging up now; I have to draft a letter that makes my best friend sound like da Vinci in a bra and panties.”“It was the very bleakness of winter that made spring possible.”
“We’re all afraid,” Anita said. “It’s the going on that matters.”
“She ate life with unapologetic enthusiasm and took as many helpings as she wanted.”
“Hey, Daddy,” she whispered. It was a split second before she realized that she’d expected an answer. But, of course, there wasn’t one. His heart—the one that had loved her so well—had finally given up.”
“She cried at last, for all the times she’d had been with her father and all the times she hadn’t, and for all the times she never would be. When the tears had worn themselves out and left her dry, she got unsteadily to her feet.”
“She knew sorrow would hit her later, hit her hard, the sudden, aching realization that her father was Gone, that she’d never pick up the phone and hear his voice again, or go to her mailbox and get a letter written in his bold, sweeping hand.”
“She sat there a long time, talking to her daddy as if he were sitting right beside her.”
“You are never given a wish
without also being given the power
to make it true.
You may have to work for it, however. —Richard Bach, Illusions”“Time. It was the rack everything hung on: life, loss, hope, love.”
“Life is short, her dad had said. She knew it was true. Every motherless child knew that. But just now, with her husband’s voice droning on and on, she couldn’t quite grasp hold of that. Because there was something else, equally true. When you were forty-five years old and missing out, it felt as if life were very long indeed.”
“Soon, the crops would be planted. By July, the corn would be as tall as a man and go on forever. By October, the leaves would be brownish gold and thin as paper,and when the early winter winds came, the rustling stalks would sound like a hive of bees. That was the cycle of the land, the measure of time. Everything in her daddy’s world had been tacked to seasons. Things came and went and lived and died according to sunlight.”
“Elizabeth laughed. “No way. You’ll have to talk to Dad about this yourself, but I’ll tell you this, honey, it’s dangerous to quit something because you think you’re not good enough. That can be an ugly pattern that repeats itself throughout your life. Believe me, I know.”
“real deal. I’ve never seen anyone shoot up the ladder quicker. I had Mark produce your special because he’s the best we have. Honestly, I didn’t think you were ready for this sort of thing, but he tells me you were as good as anyone he’s ever worked with.”
“He’s too ornery to die.” Anita looked pathetically grateful for that small bit of comfort. “He is ornery, that’s for sure.” “I … am … not.”
“Time. It was the rack everything hung on: life, loss, hope, love. So often, it seemed to slip through your fingers like silk. But sometimes, you could reach back into what was and take hold.”
“In those days, he’d promised her the moon and the stars, vowed to love her forever. He’d meant it, too. Believed in it. They hadn’t done anything wrong, either one of them. They simply hadn’t understood how long forever was.”
“Jack had always cared deeply about the big picture of his daughters’ lives. He’d wanted to know what they believed in and what they wanted to be when they grew up, and what kind of women they were becoming. But he’d never really concerned himself with the minutiae of their daily lives. That had been Elizabeth’s province. But it was that minutiae that fueled conversation.”
Excerpted from Distant Shores by Kristin Hannah
Seattle, Washington
It all started with a second martini.
“Come on,” Meghann said, “have another drink.”
“No way.” Elizabeth didn’t handle alcohol well; God knew that had been proven conclusively back in 1976 when she’d been at the University of Washington.
“You can’t refuse to drink at my forty-second birthday party. Remember how drunk I got last spring when you turned forty-five?”
What a debacle that had been.
Meghann sensed hesitation, and like any good attorney, she pounced on it. “I’ll have Johnny pick us up.” “Are you sure Johnny’s old enough to drive?”
“Now, that hurts. All of my boyfriends have their driver’s licenses.”
“And I thought you had no standards.”
“I keep them as low as possible.” Meghann raised her hand and flagged down the waitress, who hurried over. “We’ll take two more martinis. And bring us a plate of nachos—heavy on the refried beans.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help smiling. “This is going to be ugly.”
The waitress returned, set two elegant glasses down on the table, and picked up the empties.
“Here’s to me,” Meghann said, clinking her glass against Elizabeth’s.
For the next hour, their conversation drifted down old roads and around old times. They’d been friends for more than twenty years. In the two decades since college, their lives had gone in opposite directions—Elizabeth had put all her energies into wife-and-motherhood; Meghann had become a first-rate divorce attorney—but their friendship had never wavered. For years, as Elizabeth and her family had moved from town to town, they’d kept in touch via e-mail and phone calls. Now, finally, they lived close enough to see each other on special occasions. It was one of the things Elizabeth loved most about living in Oregon.
By the time the third round was delivered, Meghann was laughing uproariously about the sound the cash register made.
“D’ya see tha hunk o’ burning love in the corner over there?” Meg glanced slyly at a college-age boy sitting by the window. “He looks lonely.”
“And look—no braces. He probably got them taken off last week. He’s just your type.”
Meghann dug through the nachos, looking for one with a lot of cheese on it. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have married their college sweetheart, kiddo. Besides, I don’t have a type anymore. I did once. Now I’ll stick with what makes me happy.”
Happy. The word hit Elizabeth hard.
“I wonder if a big ole wet one from a birthday girl—Birdie? What’s the matter?”
Elizabeth pushed the martini away and crossed her arms. It had become her favorite stance lately. Sometimes, she found herself standing in a room alone, with her arms bound so tightly around her own chest that she couldn’t draw an even breath. It was as if she were trying to trap something inside of her that wanted out.
“Birdie?”
“It’s nothing, really.”
Meghann lowered her voice. “Look. I know something’s wrong, Birdie. I’m your friend. I love you. Talk to me.”
This was why Elizabeth didn’t drink. In such a weakened state, her unhappiness swelled to unmanageable proportions, and the cap she kept on her emotions wouldn’t stay put. She looked across the table at her best friend, and knew she had to say something. She simply couldn’t hold it all inside anymore.
Her marriage was failing. Thinking it was hard; saying it was almost unthinkable.
They loved each other, she and Jack, but it was a feeling wrought mostly of habit. The passion had been gone for a long time. More and more often, it felt as if they were out of step, dancing to different pieces of music. He wanted sex in the morning; she wanted it at night. They compromised by going months without making love, and when they did finally reach out, their passion was as tired as their need.
Still, they were the envy of their friends. Everyone pointed to them and said, Look, a marriage that lasts. She and Jack were like the final exhibit in a museum that had been emptying for years.
She couldn’t possibly say all of that. Words had too much power. They had to be handled with fireproof gloves or they’d burn you to the bone. “I’m not very happy lately; that’s all.”
“What is it you want?”
“It’ll sound stupid.”
“I’m half drunk. Nothing will sound stupid.”
Elizabeth wished she could smile at that, but her heart was beating so hard she felt light-headed. “I want . . . who I used to be.”
“Oh, honey.” Meghann sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose you’ve talked to Jack about this.”
“Every time we get close to talking about something that matters, I panic and say nothing’s wrong. Afterward, I want to hit myself in the head with a ball peen hammer.”
“I had no idea you were this unhappy.”
“That’s the worst part of it. I’m not unhappy, either.” She slumped forward. Her elbows made the table rattle. “I’m just empty.”
“You’re forty-five years old and your kids are gone and your marriage has gone stale and you want to start over. My practice is full of women like you.”
“Oh, good. I’m not only unhappy and overweight, I’m a cliché, too.”
“A cliché is just something that’s commonly true. Do you want to leave him?”
Elizabeth looked down at her hands, at the diamond ring she’d worn for twenty-four years. She wondered if she could even get it off. “I dream about leaving him. Living alone.”
“And in those dreams, you’re happy and independent and free. When you wake up, you’re lonely and lost again.”
“Yes.”
Meghann leaned toward her. “Look, Birdie, women come into my office every day, saying they’re not happy. I write down the words that will tear their families apart and break a lot of hearts. And you know what? Most of them end up wishing they’d tried harder, loved better. They end up trading their homes, their savings, their lifestyle, for a nine-to-five job and a stack of bills, while hubby-dearest waits ten seconds, then marries the salad-bar girl at Hooters. So, here’s a million dollars worth of advice from your best friend and divorce attorney: If you’re empty, it’s not Jack’s fault, or even his problem, and leaving him won’t solve it. It’s your job to make Elizabeth Shore happy.”
“I don’t know how to do that anymore.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Birdie, let’s be martini-honest here. You used to be a lot of things—talented, independent, artistic, intellectual. In college, we all thought you’d end up being the next Georgia O’Keeffe. Now you organize every city fund-raiser and decorate your house. I got a law degree in less time than it takes you to choose a fabric for the sofa.”
“That’s not fai—”
“I’m a lawyer. Fair doesn’t interest me.” Her voice softened. “I also know that Jack’s job has been hard on you. I know how much you wanted a place where you could put down roots.”
“You don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “We’ve lived in more than a dozen houses since we got married, in almost half that many cities. You’ve lived in Seattle forever. You don’t know what it’s like to always be the stranger in town, the new wife with no friends or résumé of your own. Hell, you started college at sixteen and still managed to fit in. I know I’ve let my house become an obsession, but it’s because I belong in Echo Beach, Meg. Finally. For the first time since I was a child, I have a home. Not a house, not a condo, not a place to rent for a year or two. A home.” She realized she was practically yelling. Embarrassed, she lowered her voice. “I feel safe there. You can’t understand that because you’ve never been afraid.”
Meghann seemed to consider that. Then she said, “Okay, forget the house. How about this: I can’t remember the last time I saw you paint.”
Elizabeth drew back. This was something she definitely didn’t want to talk about. “I painted the kitchen last week.”
“Very funny.” Meghann fell quiet, waiting for a response.
“There wasn’t time after the kids were born.”
Meghann’s expression was loving, but steady. “There is now.”
A subtle reminder that the girls were at college now, that Elizabeth’s reason for being had moved on. Only a woman with no children would think it was so easy to begin again. Meg didn’t know what it was like to devote twenty years of your life to children and then watch them walk away. On shows like Oprah, the experts said it left a hole in your life. They underestimated.
It was a crater. Where once there had been flowers and trees and life, now nothing but rock remained.
Still, she had to admit that the same thought had occurred to her. She’d even tried to sketch a few times, but it was a terrible thing to reach for a talent too late and come up empty-handed. No wonder she’d poured all of her creativity into her beloved house. “It takes passion to paint. Or maybe just youth.”
“Tell that to Grandma Moses.” Meghann reached into her handbag and pulled out a small notepad with a pen stuck in the spiral column. She flipped the pad open and wrote some- thing down, then ripped off the piece of paper and handed it to Elizabeth.
The note said: Women’s Passion Support Group. Thursday, 7:00/ Astoria Community College.
“I’ve been waiting almost a year for the right time to recommend this to you.”
“It sounds like a meeting of porn stars. What do they talk about? How to keep your lipstick on during a blow job?”
“Funny. Maybe you should try stand-up. And God knows a blow job has saved more than one marriage.”
“Meg, I—”
“Listen to me, Birdie. I have a lot of clients in Grays County, and I send them to this meeting. It’s a group of women—mostly newly divorced—who get together to talk. They’ve all given up too much of themselves, and they’re trying to find a way back.”
Elizabeth stared down at the note. She knew that Meg was waiting for her to say something, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice. It was one thing to get drunk and complain about her unhappiness to a best friend; it was quite another to walk into a room full of strange women and declare that she had no passion in her life.
She hoped her smile didn’t look as brittle as it felt. “Thanks, Meg.” Still smiling, she flagged down the waitress and ordered another martini.
Echo Beach, Oregon
The bedside clock dropped one blocky, red number after another into the darkness. At 6:30—a full thirty minutes early—Jack reached over and disabled the alarm.
He lay there, staring at the slats of light sneaking through the louvered blinds. The bedroom was striped in bands of black and white; the horizons of darkness made everything look strangely unfamiliar. He could make out the barest hint of rain falling outside. Another gray, overcast day. Normal early December weather on the Oregon coast.
Elizabeth was asleep beside him, her silvery blond hair fanned across the white pillowcase. He could hear the soft, even strains of her breathing, the occasional muffled snore that meant she would probably wake up with a cold. She’d probably caught a bug last week when she’d gone to Seattle.
In the earlier days of their marriage, they had always slept nestled together, but somewhere along the way, they’d started needing space between them. Lately, she’d begun sleeping along the mattress’s very edge.
But today, things were going to get better. Finally, at forty-six, he was going to get another chance. A Seattle production company was starting a weekly sports program that would cover the highlights of northwest sports; it had been picked up by the NBC affiliate. If he got the anchor job, he’d have to commute three days a week, but with the extra money, that wouldn’t be such a hardship. It was a hell of a step up from the pissant local coverage he’d been doing.
(Not where he should be, of course, not where he belonged, but sometimes one mistake could ruin a man.)
He’d be someone again.
For the last fifteen years, he’d worked his ass off, making progress in steps too small to be seen by the human eye. In a series of shitty little towns, he’d paid for his mistakes. Today, finally, he had a decent opportunity, a chance to get back into the game. There was no way in hell he was going to drop the ball.
He got out of bed and immediately winced in pain. This damp climate played hell with his knees. Grimacing, he limped toward the bathroom. As usual, he had to walk over fabric samples and paint chips and open magazines. Birdie had been “redoing” their bedroom for months now, planning every move as if she were the defensive coordinator in a Super Bowl game. It was the same story in the dining room. Stuff heaped in every corner, waiting for that rarest of moments: his wife actually making a decision.
He had already showered and shaved when Elizabeth stumbled into the room, tightening the thick cotton belt on her bathrobe.
“Morning,” she said with a yawn. “God, I feel like crap. I think I’m getting a cold. You’re up early.”
He felt a flash of disappointment that she’d forgotten. “Today’s the day, Birdie. I’m driving up to Seattle for that interview.”
A tiny frown tugged at her brow; then she obviously remembered. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure you’ll get the job.”
In the old days, Birdie would have pumped up his ego, assured him that it would all work out in the end, that he was destined for greatness. But she’d grown tired in the past few years; they both had. And he’d failed to land so many jobs over the years, no wonder she’d stopped believing in him.
He’d tried like hell to pretend he was happy here in Ore- gon, that all he wanted out of life was to be the noon sports anchor, covering mostly high-school sports in a midsized market. But Birdie knew he merely tolerated living in this nothing town on the edge of a barely-there city. He even hated being a mid-level celebrity. All it served to do was remind him of who he used to be.
She gave him a perfunctory smile. “More money will be great, especially with the girls in college.”
“You can say that again.”
Then she looked up at him. “Will the job make everything better, Jack?”
Her question sucked the air from his lungs. God, he was tired of this discussion. Her endless quest for the answer to what’s wrong with our lives was exhausting. Years ago, he’d tried to tell her that all her happiness shouldn’t depend on him. He’d watched as she’d given up more and more of herself. He couldn’t stop it, or didn’t stop it, but somehow it had become all his fault. He was sick to death of it. “Not today, Elizabeth.”
She gave him the sudden, hurt look that he’d come to expect. “Of course. I know it’s a big day for you.”
“For us,” he said, getting angry now.
Her smile was too bright to be real. “I picked a place for us to celebrate your new job.”
The sudden change in subject was their way of smoothing over the rough spots in their marriage. He could have stayed angry, forced a discussion, but what was the point? Birdie didn’t fight back and there was nothing new to say. “Where?”
“There’s a bear camp in Alaska. A place where you fly in and stay in tents and watch the grizzly bears in their natural environment. I saw an interview with the owner—Laurence John—on the Travel Channel.”
He unwrapped the towel from his waist and slung it haphazardly across the edge of the bathtub. Naked, he turned and headed into the walk-in closet, where he grabbed a pair of underwear, stepped into them, and turned to her. “I thought you were going to say dinner at the Heathman and dancing in the Crystal Ballroom.”
She moved hesitantly toward him. He noticed that she was twisting her wedding ring—a nervous habit from way back. “I thought maybe if we could get away . . . have an adventure . . .”
He knew what she was thinking, and it wouldn’t work. A new location was no more than a different stage upon which to act out the same old scenes, say the same old lines. Still, he touched her face gently, hoping his cynicism didn’t show. There was nothing he hated more than hurting her, although she’d grown so fragile in the past few years that protecting her emotions was an impossible task. “The bear camp sounds great. Do we get to share a sleep- ing bag?”
She smiled. “That can be arranged.”
He pulled her against him, holding her close. “Maybe we could celebrate right here in our own bed when I get home.”
“I could wear that Victoria’s Secret thing you got me.”
“I won’t be able to concentrate all day.” He kissed her. It was long and sweet, a kiss full of promise. The kind of kiss he’d almost forgotten. For a split second, he remembered how it used to be between them, back in the days when sex was unbelievably good. When spending the day in bed seemed like a perfect idea.
As he pulled back from her, he looked down into her beautiful, smiling face. Once, not all that long ago, they’d loved each other unconditionally. He missed those days, those emotions.
….
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