What does she want? Should he get up and go inside before she gets there? When she reaches his front lawn, she just stands there. Her pale hair gleams in the starlight. “Hi.”
She doesn’t sound angry. The last time he’d heard her voice had been on TV, talking to the reporters after his mom’s sentencing. She’d been really angry, her voice unforgiving and harsh. His dad had quickly raised the remote and silenced her, but still. The sound of all that rage directed at his mom made Tyler’s stomach clench. “Hi.”
“Mind if I sit with you?”
He thinks about this. Melissa’s at the barn with her new boyfriend; his dad won’t be home until after midnight. He’s alone. But this is Charlotte, and so he says, “Okay.”
When she comes closer, he sees that her hair’s not the only thing she’s changed. She’s not wearing any jewelry, and her sweater has a long thread trailing from one sleeve. She sits down on the step beside him. She smells of dust and coffee and wet grass. She looks up at the spring sky, at all the stars there. “How are you doing?”
Is this a test? “Okay.” He doesn’t dare ask how she is.
“I meant to come by earlier. I’ve been meaning to come by, actually, for a while.” She tilts her head and studies him. For a moment, he sees Amy in her eyes. “I hear you’re trying a new ointment. How’s that going?”
How does she know? Then he realizes she probably read about it in the newspaper. There’ve been tons of articles about his mom, and then the checks had started coming in, all for the foundation. Tyler’s dad had sent them to Dr. Abernathy, thousands and thousands of dollars. “It’s stupid, but my dad’s making me do it.”
He hates this new lotion. It’s greasy and stinks like metal, but he has to put it on every day, all over. He imagines it sinking into his skin and knitting things together. That’s not exactly the way it works, Dr. Abernathy’s told him, but Tyler likes the idea of his skin cells armoring themselves up, getting ready for battle. Just think, Dr. Abernathy said. If it works, you’ll be able to play football, go to college. Visit Paris. Tyler had asked, What about learning to drive? Dr. Abernathy had laughed. That, too, he’d said.
“I’m glad.”
“Charlotte,” he blurts out. “I’m sorry I lied about Robbie. I’m sorry I made you think that.”
“I know. I’m glad you told the truth. I wish he had.”
Robbie only confessed after the police found his DNA on the buckle of Amy’s backpack. Tyler stares up the street, trying to picture the way the rain had hammered down that night six months earlier, Robbie pulling up his truck to make Amy see that his moving in was a good idea. But Amy had jumped off the porch and run out into the storm, away from him. The TV reporters said it was because Robbie had hurt Amy before, maybe done something to her that he shouldn’t have, but Tyler doesn’t know. He thinks Amy would have told him if that were true.
“I wish I’d seen him.” He’d followed the path the two of them had taken—across the street and into the park, down to the bridge where Amy had swung her backpack and cut Robbie’s hand. Then she’d made a sharp turn and run through the trees up to the ravine road. Robbie hadn’t given up. He’d chased after her and grabbed her by the side of the road. But she hadn’t given up, either: she pulled away and stumbled into the path of his mom’s car.
“It wouldn’t have made any difference, honey. It happened too quickly.”
“I would have tried.” Amy had tried. She had been brave. Tyler had stood among the trees and felt her heart beating like a bird’s.
“I know you would have.”
At least Robbie’s in prison. Involuntary manslaughter, the judge had decided, because he was the reason Amy ran across the street to begin with. It’s the same thing Tyler’s mom had been charged with. She couldn’t have braked in time, and so instead of getting four years in prison, she got two. Tyler’s watched the TV shows that debated this, re-creating the accident. Always, his mom’s face is a ghostly blur behind the steering wheel.
“How’s your mother doing?”
“I miss her.” His voice wobbles, like a little kid’s. But he does miss her, not seeing her every day, not talking to her. It’s like this huge hole in his heart, and he doesn’t know how to fill it. He tries to force this sorrow away—after all, Charlotte must miss Amy, but she’s never coming home. His mom will come home. His dad’s promised that when she did, they’d all live together again, although maybe not here. He pulls off his sunglasses and rubs his eyes, determined not to cry.
Charlotte puts her arm around his shoulders and squeezes. “I miss her, too.”
He looks at her, surprised.
“She never meant to hurt me. She was just trying to take care of you.”
“I thought you hated her.”
“I did, for a while. But I don’t anymore.”
She rests her cheek against his shoulder. After a moment, she says, “I think you’ll like the new family moving in. They’re from Michigan and they have twins your age, a boy and a girl.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m renting a condo near Nikki’s school. Scott’s going to live with us, too. Did you know he’s starting classes again?”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah. I’m proud of him. He’s trying hard.”
“What about you?” It was a grown-up question to ask, but he felt that Charlotte was talking to him like a grown-up. His mom would like that, he thinks.
“Not sure. I might go back to real estate, or I might try something else. I don’t know what my future holds. But that’s what life’s all about, isn’t it?”
Tyler doesn’t know what’s going to happen for him, either. Maybe the ointment won’t work; maybe it will.
The moon rises from behind the trees, fat and full, like a shiny coin. If Tyler reaches out, he could touch it. There are other kinds of vanishing points, he thinks, ones that reach into forever, carrying with them their deepest secrets. He leans against Charlotte and she holds him closer. “Look!” she exclaims, pointing to the bright yellow sparks that blossom everywhere along the cul-de-sac.
They sit there in the scented darkness, as the fireflies dance.
For Jillian, Jonathon, and Jocelyn,
whose hearts I hold (within my heart)
Acknowledgments
My deepest thanks to:
Kate Miciak, my editor, my champion, who spotted this story among the rubble and held it up to the light.
My remarkable team at Random House, dream builders all: Gina Centrello, Libby McGuire, Jennifer Hershey, Kim Hovey, Susan Corcoran, Allyson Pearl, Kelly Chian, and Kristin Fassler.
Dorian Karchmar and Alicia Gordon, agents extraordinaire, and my whole wonderful team at William Morris Endeavor.
Pam Ahearn, for years of support and guidance.
Liese Schwarz, my sister and my muse, gifted with brilliant insight and the generous willingness to share it.
Chevy Stevens, my friend and critique partner. I am so happy our literary paths brought us together.
Tim Buckley, my husband and the start of it all.
The Deepest Secret
Carla Buckley
A Reader’s Guide
Questions and Topics for Discussion
What did you think of Eve’s decision not to say anything the night of the accident? Do you think she made the best of a terrible situation, or that she should have confessed immediately? Do you think she might not have confessed if Melissa hadn’t been a suspect, and if Tyler hadn’t planted evidence framing Robbie?
Charlotte ultimately says to David that “If it were Tyler lying there and Amy who needed saving … If it were my Amy—I’d have done just what Eve did.” (this page) What would you do in the face of such a situation?
Discuss the novel’s title, The Deepest Secret. How does it apply to the story? The author stresses that it is human nature to try to keep secrets. But do you think it’s true that all secrets will eventually come out, that it’s also in human nature to want to know—a
nd, to a certain extent, want to confess?
The relationship between Tyler and Eve is the backbone of the novel, but it’s a complicated one. Describe the arc of their relationship from the beginning to the end. Were you surprised to find that they were ultimately quite similar in their drive to protect their family?
At one point, David reflects that, “Now he sees the grays, the blurry lines. He understands how loneliness might drive a person to make terrible choices.” (this page) Do you agree with David’s assessment? What do you feel the novel says about loneliness and its impact on our actions?
Holly asks Tyler, “Do you think it’s better to have dreams and lose them, or not have dreams at all?” (this page) How would you respond?
Throughout the book, there is the recurring idea that we can’t ever truly know what another person is capable of. Do you think this is true? Why or why not?
Tyler slips through the night, observing people when they believe they are alone, and is surprised by what he finds. Do you think, in the moments where we are unobserved, we are all different people? That we are more ourselves? How much of our personalities are defined by how others see us?
What did you think of the author’s portrayal of parenthood and parent/child relationships? Did it resonate with you?
How much of a factor did Eve’s age/experience play into your sympathies for her or lack thereof? If it had been Melissa who had hit Amy, would you have viewed the situation differently? If so, in what ways?
Which characters won your sympathy and why? Did this change over the course of the novel? Did your notion of what was best or right shift in the course of your reading?
Mourning and loss are themes of the book. How does loss—or the anticipation of loss—affect certain character’s decisions?
What did you think of the conclusion of the novel? Did it turn out as you expected? Were you satisfied?
By Carla Buckley
The Deepest Secret
Invisible
The Things That Keep Us Here
About the Author
Carla Buckley was born in Washington, D.C. She has worked as an assistant press secretary for a U.S. senator, an analyst with the Smithsonian Institution, and a technical writer for a defense contractor. She lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, with her husband, an environmental scientist, and their three children. She is the author of The Deepest Secret, Invisible, and The Things That Keep Us Here, which was nominated for a Thriller Award as a best first novel and the Ohioana Book Award for fiction. She is currently at work on her next novel.
Carla Buckley, The Deepest Secret
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