Part 21 (1/2)

1. Nicole was trained as a therapist but she gave up her practice to become a baker. As a baker, she and her business partner rarely spoke. Conversely, as a therapist speaking was a primary job function. Compare and contrast these two occupations. What does Nicole's career path tell you about her character?

2. Returning home after so long brings up complicated feelings for Nicole, yet she barely hesitates when her mother calls with the news about Jenny. Why? Have you ever been placed in a similar situation where an emergency made you reconsider your priorities?

3. Nicole seems to hear Jenny asking for help in her time of need. Do you believe this unspoken communication can exist between people? Have you ever felt this way with a sibling, partner, or close friend?

4. Discuss Nicole's relations.h.i.+p with her mother. How have they both hurt one another? How do you repair this kind of damage in a relations.h.i.+p?

5. Caring for a severely handicapped person like Jenny is mentally and physically exhausting. How did Nicole find the strength to get through each day?

6. How could it have helped Joyce, Nicole and Jenny's mom, to be able to name the disease that was impacting Jenny? What kind of closure could this diagnosis offer?

7. Caring for a severely handicapped child was too much for Nicole and Jenny's father. How did he deal with the emotional and logistical burden? Did you feel any sympathy for him? Why or why not?

8. Nicole misunderstood what happened between her father and sister after his fits of anger. What factors played a part in Nicole's perception of the situation?

9. Do you think the Wellman Inst.i.tute was responsible for Jenny's rape and resulting pregnancy? How can a large inst.i.tution prevent such violations from occurring? Did the settlement seem fair?

10. The decision to keep Jenny's baby was complicated. What would you have done if you were in Joyce's place?

11. Discuss Nova and Jenny's friends.h.i.+p. Why is Nicole so drawn to Nova's personality and family?

12. Compare and contrast Garret and Shane. What is Nicole drawn to in each man? Who do you think is the best match for her?

13. Several circ.u.mstances aligned to support Nicole's decision to stay in Seattle and adopt Jenny's baby: her friends.h.i.+p with Nova, her attraction to Garret, and her mended relations.h.i.+p with her mother. If one of these elements had been missing, how could her choice have been different?

14. Nicole names Jenny's baby Kyah. The name means ”forgiveness.” Who needed to be forgiven in The Language of Sisters? Who needed to forgive? How does the theme of forgiveness play a larger role in the novel?

Read on for an exclusive first look at Amy Hatvany's enchanting new novel,

heart like mine Available from Was.h.i.+ngton Square Press in March 2013 Grace Later, I would look back and wonder what I was doing the exact moment Kelli died.

When I left the house for work that morning, nothing was different. There was no sense of impending doom, no ominous soundtrack playing in the back of my mind, warning me that my world was about to tilt over. There was only Victor asleep in our bed, and me, as usual, trying my best not to wake him as I kissed him goodbye.

It was a Friday in late October, and I drove my usual route downtown, taking in the dark silhouette of the Seattle skyline etched against a coral sky. ”Good morning,” I said to my a.s.sistant, Tanya, after I'd parked the car and entered the building. She was a stunning woman with skin the color of the deepest, richest cocoa who favored brightly hued dresses to show off her abundant curves. ”A preWeight Watchers Jennifer Hudson,” I told my best friend, Melody, describing Tanya to her after I initially interviewed her for the job.

”Morning,” she said, so focused on whatever she was doing that she barely looked up from her computer screen. Her long red nails clackety-clacked on her keyboard. Six months ago, Tanya had been living with her two toddlers in one of our safe houses. At the time, she desperately needed to work and I desperately needed an a.s.sistant, so we seemed like a perfect match. I'd taken over as CEO of Second Chances the previous fall, honored to take the lead in an organization that began in the early 1990s as a simple 24-hour support line for battered women and had slowly grown into a multifaceted program including crisis response, counseling, temporary housing, and job placement a.s.sistance. We'd even opened a thrift shop earlier this year, where our clients had first pick of donated clothes for job interviews and later, when they were ready to go out on their own, entire wardrobes. My job was to make sure that the more practical, administrative aspects of the program like funding and staffing ran smoothly, but the real reason I'd accepted the job was for the privilege of helping women like Tanya rebuild their shattered lives.

I set down the latte I'd bought for her at the cafe downstairs so it would be within her reach, then turned and walked into my office, closing the door behind me. I a.s.sumed this would be like any other day. I positioned myself at my desk, booted up my computer, and reviewed my calendar. Other than a couple of phone calls, there was only a staff meeting at two o'clock, so I got busy studying the client files Tanya had pulled for me. It was time to decide if these women were ready to make the transition from our safe houses into a place of their own. Leaving the first home where they'd felt protected was often the hardest step for victims of domestic violence; I made sure we held their hand every step of the way.

I barely looked up from my papers until a few hours later, when my cell phone vibrated in my purse. I reached for it with a skipping, happy feeling in my belly at the sight of Victor's name on the screen. ”Hi, honey,” I said, glancing down at the ring on my finger. He'd only proposed five days ago and I was still unused to the weight of it, still a little stunned that he'd asked me to marry him at all.

”Can you go pick up the kids from school for me?” Victor asked. His voice was strained and carried an urgency I didn't recognize.

”What, I'm your fiancee now, so I don't even get a h.e.l.lo?” I said, hoping I could tease him out of his seemingly ugly mood. Victor was usually the most easygoing person I knew; I wondered if something had gone wrong at work, if his head chef had called in sick or one of his busers dropped a box of winegla.s.ses. ”Is this what it's going to be like being married to you?”

”Grace,” he said. ”Seriously. I need you to pick them up and take them back to the house. Please.”

”What's wrong?” I asked, sitting up straight in my chair. Every muscle in my body suddenly tensed, realizing this wasn't just a case of Victor having a bad day.

”It's Kelli. Her friend Diane found her a couple of hours ago. She wasn't breathing and ... ” I heard him swallow once, hard. ”She's dead, Grace. Kelli's dead.”

My mouth went dry. Kelli. His ex-wife. Oh, holy s.h.i.+t. All the air pressed out of my lungs; it took a moment for me to be able to speak. ”Oh my G.o.d, Victor. What happened?”

”I don't know the details yet. The medics took her to the ER, and I guess I'm still listed as her emergency contact on her insurance plan, so they called me. Can you pick up the kids?”

”Of course.” I stood up, scrambling for my purse. Panic jittered in my chest, picturing their response to this news. Ava, especially, at thirteen, needing her mother so much, and Max, who was only seven and still had to talk with Kelli before he could fall asleep the nights he stayed at our house. Max and Ava, who didn't yet know that we were engaged. Victor had told Kelli the news earlier in the week, meeting her for a cup of coffee at the restaurant while the kids were still in school. ”How'd it go?” I asked when he came home. He pressed his lips together and gave his head a brief shake. ”Not great,” he said, and I hadn't pressed him further.

”What do you want me to tell them?” I asked him, now, already worried that whatever I said would be wrong.

”Nothing, yet. I'll be home as soon as I can, but I have to go to identify her ... ” His voice broke, and he cleared it. ”Her body.”

”Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?” I'd never heard him so upset and felt desperate to do something to comfort him.

”No, just get the kids. Please. I'll figure out what to say to them before I get there.”

We hung up, and I hurried outside my office. Tanya turned her gaze from her computer to me. ”What's wrong?”

”It's Kelli ... Victor's ex.” I exhaled a heavy breath. ”She's dead.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. ”Oh my G.o.d!” she said with her eyes open wide. She dropped her hand back to her lap. ”What happened?”

”We don't know yet. Victor is on his way to the hospital right now.”

”Oh my G.o.d,” she said again, shaking her head. ”I'll wipe your calendar for next week. The staff meeting can wait.” She paused. ”Do you want me to call Stephanie?”

I nodded, thinking that the best person to cover for me was definitely my predecessor, who'd retired when I accepted the job, but still gave her time to us as a volunteer. ”That'd be great. I'm not sure how long I'll be out. Thank you.”

”Of course. I'll call if there's anything urgent. And let me know if you need anything else.”

I left the building with my muscles shaking, climbed into my car, and gripped the steering wheel, trying to steady myself before pulling out of the lot. Thoughts spun in my head, trying to imagine what life would be like for Max and Ava after they found out their mother was dead. And for me as the woman who, by default, wound up standing in her place.

The night I met Victor, the idea that I might become the mother to his children was the furthest thing from my mind. In fact, being a mother was pretty much the furthest thing from my mind any night of the week, something I tried to explain to my date as we sat in the bar of Victor's popular Seattle restaurant, the Loft. At that moment, I didn't know I was about to meet Victor. I didn't know that he owned the restaurant or that he was divorced with two kids. All I knew was I needed to find a way to bail on this date before it got any worse. Chad was the college frat boy who'd never grown up, something I hadn't realized when we'd emailed back and forth on Match.com and then briefly chatted on the phone. On paper, he was jocular, sort of funny, and had that confident, teetering on the edge of c.o.c.ky demeanor I typically found appealing in a man, so I figured there wouldn't be much harm in meeting him for a simple drink. Clearly, I had figured wrong.

”So,” he said after we'd been seated, ordered our drinks, and gone over the usual niceties of how happy we were to finally meet in person. ”You don't want kids?” He leaned back in his chair with an odd smirk on his ruddy face.

I was immediately turned off by the blunt challenge in his tone; every internal red flag I had started waving. My online profile did, in fact, indicate that I was focused on pursuing my career more than motherhood, but it was strange that he would lead with this particular topic. I took a tiny sip of the lemon drop martini our server had just delivered, letting the crunchy bits of sanding sugar that lined the rim of my gla.s.s dissolve on my tongue before answering. ”It's not so much that I don't want them,” I said. ”More like I'm not sure I'd be very good as a parent.” I hoped my neutral response would dissuade him from pursuing the subject further.

”Don't you like kids?” he asked, tilting his blond head at me.

”Yes, I like them,” I said, repressing a sigh. It was frustrating how many people seemed to a.s.sume that I was heartless or unfeeling because I wasn't rus.h.i.+ng to become a mother. Men who chose a career over fatherhood weren't automatically considered a.s.sholes. They were cla.s.sified as devil-may-care, George Clooney types. And who didn't love George?

”I have a brother who was born when I was thirteen,” I explained to Chad. ”And I spent ten years helping to raise him before I finally moved out of my parents' house, so I sort of learned firsthand that motherhood really isn't for me.” My decision wasn't quite as simplistic as I'd made it sound, but I was already scanning the room for my quickest escape, so I didn't see the sense in delving deeper than that with Chad. The Loft's bar wasn't huge, maybe a total of fifteen tables. The only exit was past the hostess, right in his line of sight. If I excused myself to go to the restroom, then tried to sneak out the front door, he'd see. I took another big swallow of my drink, hoping the alcohol would smooth the edges off my growing irritation.