“Dad—”
“I’m sorry I missed out on so much, Charlie, but I want you to know I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for choosing your own way.”
Charlie took a few calming breaths before responding. “Thank you for telling me that.”
His father cleared his throat. “Now, your aunt tells me there’s a girl.”
Lane stood outside Sheriff Huggins’s office, her green eyes beckoning him.
“Lane’s more than a girl. She’s an amazing woman who inspires me to believe I have a purpose here.”
“You believe you made the right decision?”
Charlie went to Lane and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She rested her head on his shoulder. “I believe it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”
THIRTY
“MOMMA!” NOAH RACED DOWN the tiled hallway of the hospital and jumped into her arms.
Lane couldn’t stop the flow of tears. Happy tears of relief. She kissed Noah’s neck and his ears and his cheeks until he squealed. She breathed him in.
“Momma, what happened?” Noah’s eyes turned serious. “You got hurt?”
“Your mommy is a hero.” Charlie ran his hand down the small of her back, sending a charge of anticipation through her chest. “She helped us catch two bad guys.”
“A hero like my daddy?”
“Yep, just like your daddy.” Charlie leaned in. “I hope you don’t mind me having your sister bring him here. I missed him.”
Lane squeezed Charlie’s hand, unable to voice the love growing for him.
“Lane!” Meagan’s voice echoed down the hall. Her eyes grew round. “Oh my goodness, are you alright?”
“Do I look like a mess?” She touched the bandage on her head. There was a tender spot on her cheek where Annika had hit her with the gun and her lip was swollen. The paramedics said nothing was broken, but there’d be bruising for a couple of weeks.
“You look beautiful.” Charlie winked at her.
“You do,” Meagan agreed.
“You’re both terrible liars.” She smiled. “But I don’t mind.”
“Can I . . . can I hug you?”
“Yes.” She’d barely put Noah down when Meagan grabbed her into a tight hug. Her ribs cried out, but she ignored it and embraced her sister . . . who was sobbing. “Meagan, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry.” Meagan released her before pulling a tissue from her purse and wiping her eyes. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
Lane bit her lip. “I’m sorry—”
“No, I’m sorry, Lane. I should’ve been there for you . . . when we were younger. Now. I was just caught up . . . in my own life. I was selfish.”
Charlie walked Noah to the nurse’s station to give them privacy.
“You weren’t selfish. You were a teenager. How could you know?”
“No. I knew. I mean . . . not when we were little, but a few years ago. After I had Paige.” Meagan sniffled and looked down at the wadded piece of tissue in her hand. “I struggled. She was my first baby and I was supposed to be excited, but I wasn’t. I was angry. And sad. I thought I had done something wrong. Ate the wrong things. Didn’t exercise.”
Lane lowered her gaze to the white tiled floor. If she had spoken up about her own depression, maybe Meagan wouldn’t have suffered alone. Like Miguel. How many others kept their illness quiet out of fear or embarrassment?
“When I became pregnant with Owen, I tried to do things differently, but when he was born the same things happened. I shut down. Didn’t want to leave the house. I hid in my bedroom. That’s when Ian hired the nanny. He made me go to the doctor. They said I had postpartum depression. I never told anyone. Made Ian promise not to tell. I was ashamed.” A tear slipped down Meagan’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Lane.”
“It’s okay.” Lane hugged Meagan. “I’m okay.”
A female nurse passed them, pushing a patient in a wheelchair. She gave Lane a small nod. After a few more seconds, Lane disentangled herself from Meagan’s grip.
“I feel like people are staring at me.”
“People are talking about you.” Meagan dabbed at her eyes and waved her hand. “About Mathias. Your suicide attempt.”
Lane cringed. The reporter. She was worried people were staring at her because of her injuries, but maybe it was because of what they knew about her. About how Mathias died. At that moment, Lane’s mother and father rounded the corner into the hall. They paused at the nurse’s station when they saw Charlie and Noah.
“I’m sorry.” Lane swallowed. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you or the family.”
“Lane, you’re not embarrassing me.” Meagan took hold of her shoulders. “Honey, I’m proud of you. You were brave enough to speak out about your condition. Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve forced people to have a conversation.”
“I don’t understand.” She squished her eyebrows together. “Who’s having a conversation?”
“Everyone. Ms. Byrdie invited that reporter from the courthouse over and talked with her. Told her she suffered from depression after she and the sheriff found out they couldn’t have kids.”
“She did?”
“Ms. Byrdie said the biggest regret she had was not being brave”—Meagan squeezed her shoulders—“like you.”
“I wasn’t trying to be brave. I was trying to help Miguel.”
“It sounds like you did. And that’s not all. Daddy called that reporter and threatened to sue her and the paper she works for if they reported any false information regarding your medical history or Mathias’s accident. He told her if she wanted a story, it should be on the stigma society has placed on those with behavioral and mental health issues. That, as a country, we should be ashamed that so many people are forced to suffer in silence because they are afraid of being ostracized if they ask for help.”
Movement at the nurse’s station caught Lane’s attention. Her gaze found her father’s. Even from a distance, Lane could see the emotion warring over his features. “He did that?”
Meagan nodded.
It took Lane several heartbeats before she could meet her father’s eyes again. Her mother looped her arm through his and they stood back as though waiting for permission to approach her. Lane’s lips trembled into a small smile. At this her parents charged forward and embraced her in a hug that seemed to say everything all at once.
Charlie returned with Noah holding a rubber glove blown up to look like a turkey. “Visiting hours will be over soon. If you want to see Miguel, we should go now.”
Lane hugged her parents one more time before they left. Tears had ruined her mother’s makeup and her father tried for nonchalance as he wiped a hand to his cheek. They had a lot of healing to do, but this was a start—an emotional one that needed to happen.
Meagan wiped the remnants of her tears from her face. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I promise I look worse than I feel.”
Meagan looked up at Charlie like she was trying to confirm Lane’s answer.
He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear before running the back of his knuckles over her cheek. His eyes trailed to her lips. “She’s been checked out.”
Lane’s heart soared within her chest. Would she ever get used to his touch or the way a simple look could melt her insides into mush? She hoped not.
“Okay. Please tell Miguel thank you. Your newest nephew or niece needs their auntie.”
“What?” Lane’s attention was pulled back to her sister. She saw a twinkle in Meagan’s eyes. “Are you? You’re pregnant?”
“Mm-hmm.” Meagan placed a hand on her belly. “I don’t need a special diet or extra exercise. I need you, sis. To help me through it.”
Lane hugged her sister as tears stung her eyes. “I promise I’ll be here for you. Whatever you need. Even if it’s locking ourselves in a room full of chocolate.”
“Sounds perfect.” Meagan giggled. She kissed Lane’s cheek. “Now, go see your friend.”
Meagan walked down the hall and stepped into the hospital elevator, taking Noah with her. They waved as the doors closed.
“I’m going to be an auntie again.” She smiled up at Charlie.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you for coming here with me.” She slipped her hand into his. “And in case I didn’t tell you before. Thank you for saving my life.”
Charlie lifted her hand to his lips. He kissed each finger until his lips rested on the gold wedding band Mathias had given her.
“You’re a woman worth saving, Lane Kent.”
Acknowledgments
I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE I get to do this! As a reader, one of my favorite things to do is read the acknowledgments page. I love seeing authors reflect on their journey and thank the ones who helped them get there. As a writer, I now realize that behind every book is a village of professionals, mentors, friends, family, and supporters who, whether they know it or not, have made a writer’s dream come true. How unbelievably cool is it that I get the chance to acknowledge them now?
Lane and Charlie’s story would not be in your hands right now without the hardworking and diligent team at Revell. My editor, Andrea Doering, saw this story in its infancy and believed, even back then, it was worth telling. Amy Ballor, Hannah Brinks, and Gayle Raymer, y’all are amazing!
Tamela Hancock Murray, agent extraordinaire—I’ll never forget telling you I had an appointment to pitch this story to Steve and you told me no. I’m so grateful I’ve been listening to you ever since. You champion not only the words of my heart but also my spirit when doubt begins to cloud my vision. Thank you for everything!
Tom R. and familia—talking drugs, cartel, and international trafficking wouldn’t have happened without you. Let’s do it again! Aaron F. and Tim F. Thank you for your assistance on police procedure. Any errors are my fault alone.
To my BWF, Emilie Hendryx—girl. Where would I be on this journey without you? Your friendship extends beyond the giddy brainstorming sessions, the extremely long voxes, the equally long video chats, and the invaluable story edits that have made this moment possible. Your words of encouragement and prayers have carried me through some of my darkest moments and there aren’t enough words to express how grateful I am for you. Love you, friend. You’re next!
One of the best things about this writing journey has been the amazing friendships that have come through it. Jaime Jo Wright—you keep sending me Poe-ish snippets of your work so I have to sleep with the light on and I’ll keep sending you cute GIFs of you-know-who! Christen Krumm, I couldn’t imagine living the #bookballer life without you! I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without the guidance I’ve received from DiAnn Mills and Ronie Kendig—thank you! There are so many more who’ve gathered me into the folds and encouraged, prayed, and cheered me on. I wish I could name you all, but apparently these pages have to be shorter than the actual novel . . . who knew? Please know that even if your names are not here, they are never far from my grateful heart.
To my Newsies, street team, and readers—thank you. What’s the point in writing if no one reads your story? I appreciate every one of you and the sweet notes of love and encouragement you send me. Some days those very things keep me going. I hope you enjoyed my debut novel and I can’t wait for you to see what’s coming next!
I wouldn’t be able to thank any of the above mentioned individuals if it weren’t for the greatest blessings of my life. To my G.I. JOE—you won my heart with a single look and have been winning my heart every day since. Thank you for being the hero of our family and of my life. I love you oodles to the oodle power. To my three precious treasures—out of all the stories in the world, being part of yours is my favorite. More than anything else, I hope my stories make you proud.
Finally, Lane’s story came to life through the heartache and devastation our family experienced with depression. Topics such as depression, anxiety, suicide, and mental health facilities had never even crossed our minds when suddenly they became reality. I didn’t realize how traumatizing the stigma surrounding mental health was until we were drowning in it. My hope is that Living Lies will open up a conversation surrounding the disease and offer the kind of hope we need to be speaking daily to those fighting to live.
You are loved.
You are wonderfully made.
You have purpose.
Dear Lord—thank you for the gift of writing this story. I pray that through these words your gifts of love, hope, and mercy reach those who desperately need them.
Natalie Walters is a proud Army wife and mother of three adult children. She grew up tucked between the pages of a good book and spent many hot summer days in New Mexico at the Erna Fergusson library. Reading had been her greatest adventure until she met her husband. They’ve moved more than fifteen times, lived in seven states, and served overseas in Egypt. Natalie began her writing journey in 2010 when she started the Christian Writer’s Guild Craftsman program. Her nonfiction pieces have appeared in Proverbs 31 magazine and Guideposts online. In addition to balancing life as a military spouse, mom, and writer, she loves traveling, cooking, watching movies, and playing games so long as her family surrounds her. Natalie and G.I. JOE are currently stationed in Hawaii with their kids.
www.NatalieWaltersWriter.com
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Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
List of Pages
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