A coming-of-age novel about the pain of misconceptions and learning from them.
When life gives you lemons…
Izzy
Mom is barely in the grave and the prodigal child is here to pick the bones clean.
I don’t want her here. My sister’s defection is a wound that won’t heal and her return simply rubs at the scabs covering my heart.
I’ve managed just fine without her. She can go back to her fancy college and forget about us- that’s what she does best anyway.
If only I didn’t need her help. Or miss her so much.
Renée
The day my dad committed suicide I ran. I’ve been running ever since.
Going home is supposed to be the answer. Instead, it makes me question every thoughtless decision I’ve made.
My sister hates me. My little brother barely knows me. And Simon… is engaged.
None of it matters- or so I tell myself. I’m here to make amends and face a past haunted by regret.
As long as I can convince myself to stay.
Letting Go is a young adult romance dealing with tragedy, restitution, and love in all its aspects. Sensitive topics may be triggering for some readers.
A coming-of-age novel about the pain of misconceptions and learning from them.
When life gives you lemons…
Izzy
Mom is barely in the grave and the prodigal child is here to pick the bones clean.
I don’t want her here. My sister’s defection is a wound that won’t heal and her return simply rubs at the scabs covering my heart.
I’ve managed just fine without her. She can go back to her fancy college and forget about us- that’s what she does best anyway.
If only I didn’t need her help. Or miss her so much.
Renée
The day my dad committed suicide I ran. I’ve been running ever since.
Going home is supposed to be the answer. Instead, it makes me question every thoughtless decision I’ve made.
My sister hates me. My little brother barely knows me. And Simon… is engaged.
None of it matters- or so I tell myself. I’m here to make amends and face a past haunted by regret.
As long as I can convince myself to stay.
Letting Go is a young adult romance dealing with tragedy, restitution, and love in all its aspects. Sensitive topics may be triggering for some readers.
Two years later
The town looks the same as when I left for college. The Welcome to Smuggler’s Cove, pop. 7562, sign bows with the weight of the old town’s worries on its aged wooden frame. God, I’m glad I escaped.
My second-hand SUV chugs up the hill and over the bridge. Chinook, the river named after the salmon who travel hundreds of miles to spawn in its muddy brown water, gurgles over the rocks far below. Giant rubber tubes in a rainbow of colors filled with laughing teens dot the surface. I’d joined them many times to get away from the oppression at home.
Home.
It’s been nearly two years since I left, and it would’ve been longer if I had my choice. Hard on the heels of guilt come the ever-ready tears. Fact is, while I soaked up the west coast sunshine and campus life, my little sister had taken over the reins of the house, getting my brother to school, paying the bills, and caring for Mom.
Someone honks their horn, an angry watch it sound. Startled, I jerk the wheel and almost cream the rail. Nervous laughter pushes through clenched teeth. Wonder what Miss Perfect would say to that? Mom never understood the jealousy that reared its ugly head around Izzy. Hell, I didn’t get it myself. It just is.
The restaurant my friends and I haunted throughout high school comes up on the right. Why hadn’t I noticed how old and tired it looked? The door opens and a group of four exits into the parking area.
Simon.
My heart drops to my toes. He glances away from the woman laughing up at his handsome face and our eyes meet. Time slows. Everything we’d done together, been together, lost together plays out in my mind like a tragic Shakespearean play. God, why now? I’d hoped to sneak into town, do my duty, and leave with no one the wiser.
He steps away from his date—a blonde like me—and lifts his hand as though to wave me down. The others turn to see what’s going on and I—being the scaredy-cat my sister always accused me of—punch the gas pedal and grimace as my vehicle belches out a plume of dark gray smoke before obeying my command.
Damn. What else could go wrong?
And isn’t that just the stupidest question ever?
The turn for our street comes up too fast. I drive by, then have to circle the block. Avoiding the situation isn’t going to make it go away. Mom is still…
Our house looks just the same; a two-bedroom craftsman Daddy converted into four by finishing the basement for his girls. That’s what he’d called Izzy and me, his beautiful baby girls. We’d grown up poor, but it never felt that way. Our parents always made sure we had new outfits for school, birthday parties all the neighborhood kids clamored to attend, and Christmases where we could hardly find the floor for all the gifts. We were spoiled but in a good way. We understood the value of money and knew we had to take care of our stuff or face severe punishment—usually, a week of doing dishes by ourselves, washing and drying. Dad worked long hours at the tire shop and Mom took in mending and baking for the local market. My job was to babysit my brother and sister and keep them out of Dad’s hair until he had a chance to relax after work, which meant chugging back a beer or three.
I can’t make myself pull into the driveway, it feels too much like getting sucked into a void, so I parallel park in front of the house and shut down the engine. Over the click of the cooling motor, I hear the birds chattering in our towering Lodgepole Pine tree that shades most of the yard and part of the road. We used to take turns seeing how high we could climb as kids, even though Mom said if we broke our necks we were on our own. Izzy, the little tomboy, had scurried from branch to branch like there were suction cups attached to her feet and hands. Ben was only five or six maybe and scared of heights. I could get him to hang onto the bottom branches, but that was as far as he would go. But, his smile. It made the fact I was stuck on the ground watching him worthwhile.
We’d tried to talk Mom into moving after Dad… but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said this house held the key to every happy memory she could recall; from arriving as a young, naïve bride, to pregnancy, babies, and holidays. She refused to throw it all away because of our father’s last, selfish act. And that was that. We all pretended the backyard didn’t exist and carried on as though our lives were normal when they were anything but.
The gate creaks open with a lisp, the hinges old and rusty and barely holding onto the whitewashed fence. Grass grows better between the sidewalk blocks than in the rest of the yard, littered with pine needles and the cones Mom used to send us out to collect for craft night. My heel catches in one of the hairline cracks in the cement and I nearly fall on my face. It’s the final straw; I turn to leave, tomorrow is another day, but the door opens and I stop in my tracks.
Izzy.
She looks older. A nervous laugh bubbles. I wasn’t expecting it to be this hard. “Hi.” That’s me, Miss Eloquent.
“What are you doing here?” She leans a slim shoulder against the door frame, her red hair glinting in the sun, her gaze flat and hooded. The dark circles underneath her green eyes tug on my heartstrings. Well, that and the sorrow engulfing me the moment she opened the door. There’s no more denying it—Mom is gone.
I ignore her antagonism and hurry forward, dropping my overnight bag at our feet—so different, me in my heels, her barefoot—and draw her resisting body into my arms. I close my eyes, the better to breathe in the essence of my baby sister. Every bit as strong and lean as I remember, her arms are stiff and unyielding at her sides. Heaven forbid she’d give in to a moment of sentimental emotion.
Forgiveness isn’t big on the Thomas’s list of strong points.
Reluctant, I let her go and take a step back to assess how she’s holding up. Not good, if the too-pale skin and deep lines across her forehead are anything to go by. Well, I’m here now. It’s past time I take on some of the family responsibilities.
“Where’s Ben?” I ask, glancing over her shoulder into the dim hallway beyond. “Is he…?” What could I say? Doing okay? Upset? Sad? Mad? No doubt, all of those and more. Benjamin was closest to Mom, her baby. It wouldn’t be easy for him to accept her death. An ugly shiver sweeps down my back.
“He’s in his room. He doesn’t come out. I can’t get thr… what does it matter?” Izzy snarls, tossing her head. “You didn’t care before. You can’t just show up, especially now, and expect everything to be how it was when we were kids. There’s no going back.” She straightens and heads inside, trying to slam the door in my face.
Good to know her temper is the same, anyway. I stop the door with my palm, wincing as the pressure explodes up my arm. Much as I want to leave, the time for running is over.
I’m home.
This young adult romance is a heartfelt coming-of-age novel about hope, love, tragedy, and second chances.
Still reeling from their father’s suicide, the Thomas sisters struggle to cope with their mother’s recent death from cancer. Elizabeth “Izzy” Thomas and her older sister, Renee, are at odds. Renee walked out after their father’s death to pursue college, leaving Izzy alone to cope with their mother’s depression and failing health and kid brother. Resentment reigns supreme, to put it mildly.
Wracked by guilt and uncertainty but compelled to come home for Mom’s funeral, Renee returns and is greeted by a glacial Izzy. Angry, bitter, and surly, Izzy doesn’t want anything to do with the older sister. Locked in their own private pain and disparate worlds, both sisters are adrift on a sea of guilt and regret. Struggling to make some sense of their losses, neither sister can find her footing.
Renee's ghosts from the past include her sister’s omnipresent hostility and the sudden re-kindling of feelings she thought were long gone for her ex-beau, Simon. (That would also be the guy who’s engaged to be married.) Izzy battles the school and the state to keep her family intact and twelve year-old brother Ben at home.
Meanwhile, Simon’s grandmother, “Grams” O’Brian winds up in the hospital after Renee accidentally hits Grams with her SUV, Mabel. Things go from complicated to sticky-as-super-glue when the EMS called to render aid is Renee’s old flame, Simon Fraser. It turns out that Renee’s college training in physical therapy is put to good use when she offers to help Grams as a live-in caregiver after Grams is released from the hospital. Little does Renee know that Simon lives with Grams, too. They’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. Will the sparks between them re-ignite an old romance, or will reality pour a cold bucket of water on both of them?
When Ben disappears in the tempestuous Chinook River just before their mother’s funeral, Renee and Izzy must find the courage to form a new alliance to find him and save his life. Can they? And will Simon go through with his plans to marry Lacey?
Biggar writes with a warmth and clarity that makes characters stand up and walk and the storyline shine. The pacing is nimble and chapters move seamlessly between shifting POVs. The brisk plot and well-drawn characters will appeal to the target audience of young adults. The cliffhanger ending is ripe for a sequel.