The Secrets She Keeps, by Deb Caletti
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The Secrets She Keeps, by Deb Caletti
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When Callie McBride finds a woman’s phone number written on a scrap of paper her husband has thrown away, she thinks that her marriage is over. Callie flees to Nevada and her Aunt Nash’s Tamarosa Ranch, which she’s shocked to see in disrepair. Worse, Aunt Nash is acting bizarrely. Then, pulling back the curtain on Tamarosa’s heyday, Callie discovers a secret promise and comes to see that no life is ever ordinary. No story of love is, either.
The Secrets She Keeps, by Deb Caletti- Amazon Sales Rank: #5522861 in Books
- Published on: 2015-09-16
- Format: Large Print
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 1.10" h x 5.60" w x 8.60" l, .0 pounds
- Binding: Hardcover
- 501 pages
Review Praise for The Secrets She Keeps “[Deb] Caletti once again combines interesting characters, pitch-perfect dialogue, and an intriguing plot to tell a deeply memorable story. Her latest is a thoughtful exploration of love and marriage and the power of family and friendship to help along the way.”—Booklist “Past, present, and the strength of female friendship blend in a work billed for the Kristin Hannah–Liane Moriarty crowd.”—Library JournalPraise for Deb Caletti’s He’s Gone “Deb Caletti doesn’t just make a stunning debut into adult fiction; she throws down the gauntlet. This is a mesmerizing novel.”—New York Times bestselling author Sarah Addison Allen “Striking . . . well-written, strongly characterized and emotionally complex fiction.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
About the Author Deb Caletti is an award-winning author and National Book Award finalist. Her many books for young adults include "Stay"; "The Nature of Jade"; and "Honey, Baby, Sweetheart", winner of the Washington State Book Award and the PNBA Best Book Award, and a finalist for the PEN USA Award. Her books for adults include "He s Gone" and her latest release, "The Secrets She Keeps". She lives with her family in Seattle.Katie Hurley, LCSW, is a child and adolescent psychotherapisKate Rudd, winner of the 2013 Audie and Odyssey Awards for ht and parenting expert in Los Angeles, California. Hurley eaer narration of John Green's The Fault in Our Stars and multrned her bachelor of arts in psychology and women's studies iple Audiofile Magazine Earphones award recipient, has narrafrom Boston College and her master of social work from the Uted over 250 titles across a variety of genres. niversity of Pennsylvania. Hurley also has training in play therapy from the University of California, San Diego. For seven years, Hurley worked for The Help Group, a nonprofit dedicated to children with learning disabilities.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. chapter 1NashShe isn’t one bit sorry. Not right now. Not when she closes the door of that car and the window is down and there are crickets and millions of stars and miles and miles of open road. For once, she is not the one making the careful, thought-out decisions that make her the practical sister, because there is no question: This is a mistake. This is a doomed mission of the heart, and Veronica May Fontaine says no life worth living is absent a few of those. Of course, Veronica May Fontaine had tipped back more than one Moscow mule before she said it, and Nash’s mother had only rolled her eyes. By that time, Alice had heard it all.But this night, no theory of love matters. No consequences do. There is a thin yellow curve of moon in that big, big desert sky. The night air smells like dry grass and horse manure and summer. Nash is flying down that dirt road with her true love beside her, and she is filled with all the complicated themes of two people bound together by circumstances of fate—rescue and renewal, joy and fear, connection and inevitable loss.She has made a promise. A vow. She may be only eighteen years old—Jack Waters called her Peanut before he stopped seeing her as a child—but you don’t grow up on a divorce ranch and not learn to take a vow seriously.Honestly, though? It may seem terrible to say—horrible, a betrayal—but even the vow, the terrible night of it, the metallic smell of blood and the sound of thunder that wasn’t thunder but horse hooves, hundreds of them, has retreated in the face of this. This soaring. This rise in her whole body now, as they pick up speed and the ranch falls away behind them and there is only the sweet catastrophe of what’s to come.chapter 2CallieThomas washed his wallet by accident, and that’s what changed my life. He’d left it in his pants. My mother always told Shaye and me never to do a man’s laundry, but as I watched him spread out soggy receipts and dollar bills on the foot of our bed, I wished I’d never listened. He looked defeated. He was bent over that small, wrecked pile, and it seemed as if all the annoyances of living had suddenly caught up to him—the cracks in the cement and missed planes and calls to the cable company. Two minutes later, our marriage as we knew it would be hanging in some awful balance, but right then I felt bad for him. I thought maybe he’d lived a life of quiet desperation, only I hadn’t known it. My mother—she ended up alone, anyway. She’d say that’s how she wanted it, but we were two different people.It was Saturday morning, and I was still in my robe. I sat cross-legged on the bed. Thomas wore that T-shirt with the sailboat on the back and his favorite old cargo shorts. I always thought he looked cute in those. Thomas was still a very good-looking man, no doubt about that. He was fit and strong, and that dark hair, well, even now it got to me, these many years later, the way it had that slightly mussed mind of its own.“Did it make it?” I asked him. The wallet looked battered and soaked but also like it just had the ride of its life. Thomas set it up at an angle on the dresser. It was not any usual old day for that wallet. No flat, dull outing in a back pocket for that adventurous leather accessory.“I hope so,” Thomas said. “It better have.”He seemed to mean it. I was surprised he cared so much about it. It might have been a Christmas gift years ago, and God knew he could do with a new one. He never bought himself the things he needed. He still had coats from his college days, and he could go miles with the sole of a shoe flapping. He was smug about all the things he could do without. It could drive you insane.“I think it’s okay.” He exhaled his relief, unfurled a photo from the small stack of wet paper in his hand. There you had it—we’d been talking about two different things, and to that I can only say, No comment.He set the small square of paper on the comforter to dry. It was an awful picture of the four of us from the time of shoulder pads and high-waisted jeans—I’d forgotten how high. My hair was permed for the first and last time, and if you saw it, you’d know why. I did it at home from a box, and the curls were as tight as an Airedale’s. Thomas’s own hair was long in front, and he was wearing an Alpine sweater that worked so hard at being cheery, your heart went out to it. Amy and Melissa wore the dresses Thomas’s mother had bought them just before cancer-scare number one. I made them wear the scratchy lace because we thought she was dying, but naturally she wasn’t. Those kinds of people go on forever. I think we had the picture taken for free in the back corner of a J. C. Penney or somewhere like that; at least, we were in front of a cloudy blue background. It was the sort of photo they show on crime programs after someone’s been murdered.“Look at us,” I said. Who knew if J. C. Penney even had photo studios anymore.“I thought it was done for,” he said, before moving on, peeling away a sodden ticket stub and a voter-registration card. He held up the damp, noble face of Andrew Jackson, torn in half by the spin cycle. “Great. Terrific.”“A little tape will fix that right up,” I said.“What time is it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He leaned over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Shit. I’m already late.”He exhaled the frustration of the morning. I felt a curl of guilt for my wifely shortcomings. Thomas was the sort of husband who brought you a cup of coffee and made sure the snow tires had been put on, though maybe, too, you could always feel a sigh in there somewhere. Folding his socks wouldn’t have been such a big deal, though he probably would have lost a lot more wallets had I been in charge of the washing.“How about if I go get her?” Our daughter Amy was at the last Global Citizens meeting before her post-graduation trip to Costa Rica. The group was leaving in the morning. I should also mention what a good father Thomas was. He was even one of the parents who helped at the fundraising car wash. He’d done it for Melissa, too, a few years before. I wanted to be with Amy every chance I could get right then, but I can’t truthfully say I minded missing out on the jumping and screaming and sign-waving of the girls on the street corner. T-shirts with glitter could get the better of me. Thomas woke up early, though. He said, Rise and shine, Sunshines! and made the rounds of the house, rousing us with the sock of a pillow. He put a baseball cap on over his tousled morning hair and even got donuts for the kids on the way.“I’m going! I’m going right now.”“It’s no big deal. She can wait,” I said.He had that look, the one he often had when he came home from work and it was an endless day of weighing what was best for whom, studying zoning laws and park space and the height of bus-stop shelters, making decisions when there were no real right answers. He’d had that look quite a lot lately. Clearly there was a greater thing on his mind. A greater thing that made all other things irritating intrusions.And that’s when it happened. He palmed a sodden business card and crushed it into a ball. This alone did not make me understand that life as I knew it was changing before my very eyes. It was what he did just after that—the way he glanced up to see if he’d been caught. All it takes to unravel or undo is one lost stitch, one tiny tear, and that’s what that glance was.You know way too much about each other when you’re married; that’s one of the problems. Another is that you know way too little. Still, I’d have recognized that look on anyone. On Shaye when we were kids, or on my own children, or a stranger, for that matter. Even Hugo. He’d had that same look whenever he tried to run off with someone’s Kleenex.Our eyes met. Thomas dropped his away.“Mack?” I said. It was my love name for him. I felt a little sick inside.“What?”“What is that?”“What?”“In your hand.”“Garbage.”“Some secret?”He shook his head, as if I’d been the one to do something disappointing. “Jesus, Callie,” he said. A Je-sus of disgust, drawn out to two syllables to underscore how irrational I could be.More than anything, more than anything, I wanted my life to stay as it was. I loved my life. I loved Thomas and our daughters. I loved my house. I loved that house so much. Sometimes, you’d put up with almost anything if it meant not losing that brick pathway you’d planted with perennials. It could get confusing. Whether you really did want things to stay as they were, or whether you just didn’t want things to change.Thomas grabbed his license and a credit card and a few still-wet bills and he stormed out of our bedroom. The storming felt like something you’d see on TV. The boat on his back, Kailua Yacht Club, from the last trip we took as a family before the kids got too old for that kind of thing, sailed down the hall in a sitcom huff.I didn’t follow. I didn’t ask him questions or demand answers. Not right then, anyway. I kept my suspicions to myself, as if I had a plan. That’s the thing about change. Sometimes you think it’s something that happens to you, when actually you’re right there, acting as its naïve yet diligent assistant.Late Sunday afternoon, we dropped Amy off at the airport. I wasn’t used to seeing her hair so short. She looked even lovelier, changed already, with her eyes shining and that enormous backpack on the floor next to her. Don’t worry, Mom, she’d said. I’ll be fine. I’ll be great! The group had all just graduated from high school, but the girls still snuck self-conscious glances into reflective surfaces, and the boys still punched the arms of their friends. We’d known a lot of these kids since kindergarten, and they mostly seemed their same selves, only larger. I remember when Sam lost his lunchbox and cried so hard he threw up, and here he was, with those same vulnerable shoulders. Amy looked back at us and gave a last wave, and for a moment it was like my heart had walked off and I was left with a vacant body. For a second, I wasn’t sure what to do. I was at a total loss. Thomas and I stood there together like we were college freshmen just dropped off by their parents and assigned to room together.We picked up some Thai food and watched a movie Thomas ordered. I had moments where I forgot all about that guilty look he gave me, until the ugly memory butted back in. My head spun, and then the hit of denial kicked in, as helpful and soothing as any sedative. I love denial; I admit it. It’s the best drug—plentiful, and free, besides. Thomas, scooping pad kee mao out of a Styrofoam container, looked like old Thomas.That night, after we turned out the light, the red digital numbers of the bedside clock stared me down. I tried to ignore it, but of all household objects, bedside clocks are the most insistent, more than beeping refrigerators and door alarms, more than kitchen timers and even blaring radios. It’s the strong silent types that get you.“Thomas?”“Mmm.”“Are you awake?”“No.”“If you’re talking, you’re awake.”“I wasn’t talking.”“I don’t want you to get mad, but I’ve got to ask you something.”“Cal, what, it’s almost midnight.”One of the digital numbers blinked, six to seven, and then stared. Okay, all right! I set my hand on the hill of Thomas’s hip. “Yesterday, when you washed your wallet . . . You crumpled something up.”“I don’t remember.” His voice was clear now. It had lost the muffled quality of near sleep.“I think you do.”He sat up then. Actually, he didn’t just sit up; he rose with a pissed-off tussle of blankets, yanked the quilt to cover him. I could see the outline of his face turned to me in the dark, and I knew by the set of his jaw how upset he was. “Jesus, Cal. Really? Why are you going on about that again? Do you think I’m having some affair? It was a piece of paper.”Should I have stopped there? Would that have ended it? Well, I couldn’t, because if it were nothing, I’d still be seeing the motionless curve of his body, the hump of him, under the covers. He would not have sat up like this, fuming now. He’d have stayed close to sleep, offering the tired explanation that would finally settle the matter.“What kind of piece of paper?”“A business card.”“Whose?”“Do you think this is in any way reasonable? You wake me up at midnight to interrogate me about a stupid card from some . . . I don’t know what his name was, Jarret? Jarret Smith? Some guy who came by the office offering financial services. Okay?”“Okay,” I said.He punched his pillow, made his feelings clear through fist and down feathers, and then dropped his head again. I knew he was awake, though. I had that heightened awareness that speaks of possible danger, the feeling you get after there’s been a wrong sound in the house and you wait, just as I was doing then, to see if you might hear it again. After a while, there was the familiar rhythm of his breathing. He’d fallen asleep. But I lay awake for a long time, the glowing red numbers of that clock sending their steadfast message, telling me something I was sure I already knew.
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10 of 10 people found the following review helpful. Long-lasting married love is complicated By B. Case Deb Caletti is an award-winning author of ten works of young-adult fiction. “The Secrets She Keeps” is her second adult novel. In it she tackles a weighty theme aimed specifically at couples in long-lasting marriages. In this book, she sets out to help us understand just how complicated it can be. We all know it’s not about passion. What we learn in this novel is that long-lasting married love is about the constant nurturing of the emotional framework that supports the couple’s entwined lives. It’s a complex theme and the author approaches it repeatedly, from many angles, throughout the book. Caletti loves to deal with complex themes concerning moral choice; questions with no firm answers, only enlighten direction.I loved this thoughtful, moral, and moving novel. It was exceptionally well written and plotted. It spoke to my heart. It left me feeling good about the characters and good about my own life.Love, passion, divorce, adultery, disappointment, betrayal, abuse, shame, guilt, independence—these are all part of the many story threads woven into the fabric of this tale spanning sixty years and the lives of many different women. All the main and significant secondary characters in this novel (and they are all female) have one thing in common: a key part of their emotional and psychological development took place on Tamarosa Ranch. It is the Ranch’s magnificent natural setting—complete with its breathtaking vistas, buffalo, wild mustangs, fragile habitat, torrential thunderstorms, star-studded evening sky, and more—that plays an important role in making this a compelling and engrossing tale.This book centers on a mystery: what “sweet catastrophe” happened on Tamarosa Ranch during the summer of 1951? Back then, the Ranch used to be one of Nevada’s leading divorce resorts. In the present day, the 200-acre Ranch is parched, over-grazed, and the focus of a Federal Bureau of Land Management wild mustang culling project; the buildings, barns, corrals, pastures, and cabins have slipped into decay. But in the 50s, it was a Western Shangri-La. The fertile Ranch was nicely situated in the high-desert scrublands, tucked into the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, within walking distance of picturesque Lake Washoe. Back then, it was cowboy territory. The local bars were full of rugged, good-looking men only too happy to lighten up the spirits of a soon-to-be divorcée while she waited for her six-week Nevada residency requirement to be fulfilled in order to become eligible for a no-evidence-required Nevada divorce. Ranch guests were given relaxing day trips to Lake Tahoe and exciting night trips to Reno’s casinos.Whatever that “sweet catastrophe” was in 1951, Nash has been keeping it secret for over sixty years. This headstrong 80-year-old woman just might have gone to her grave without telling a soul, but an old friend was concerned about her welfare and made a phone call to her out-of-state family. He sounded the alarm: Nash is acting mentally unstable; maybe it’s time to remove her from the Ranch and put her someplace where she can get proper care.Nash’s two nieces, Callie and Shaye, are sent by their mother (Nash’s sister, Gloria) to assess the situation. Neither sister realizes that their mother asked both of them to help, so they are initially quite surprised to see each other at Tamarosa at the same time. But it turns out to be a blessing in disguise. Both sisters had responded so quickly to their mother’s plea, not out of any outsized concern for their frail Aunt Nash, but because both women were experiencing serious marital problems and going to check on their aging aunt provided them the distance from their husbands they needed at that time in order to figure out what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. As a result, Tamarosa Ranch ends up (once again) being a healing and transitional spot for women with marital problems.The book has two main characters and follows two plotlines. The book opens in 1951, and tells the story of that fateful summer from Nash’s third-person point of view. It was the summer when Nash was 18 years old and her mother left her in charge of the Ranch and the welfare of its rich and famous female clients. Nash’s story is told in alternating chapters, together with the second plotline that takes place in the present day (when Nash is 80 years old and her two nieces arrive to check on her). This present-day plotline is told in the first-person from Callie’s point of view.Once I started this novel, I couldn’t put it down. It sounds like a cliché, but it’s true. I loved the book’s fascinating cast of female characters. I believed in them and cared about them. I needed to find out what would happen to them. That Caletti habitually ended each chapter with a cliffhanger helped to pull me through the book like a literary magnet.As the two plotlines progress, they thematically intersect, the past informs the present, long-held secrets are revealed, and emotional scars are healed. At the end, both sisters are able to come to terms with the reality of their lives; each knows, within her heart, positively and without hesitation, what she needs to do. Each now has the emotional understanding she requires to face the next stage in her life with self-confidence and renewal.
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful. Secrets Revealed By JAR The Secrets She Keeps by Deb Caletti is a coming of age book of sorts, but not the type to which you might be accustomed. No, this coming of age follows Callie, her sister, Shaye, and their Aunt Nash as they each come to terms with different ages, Nash is seen as both a young woman embarking on life through flashback, and an old lady preparing for the end. Callie and Shaye are coming to terms with mid-life, but in very different ways.Callie receives a phone call from her mother almost begging her to go check on her Aunt Nash after receiving a worried call from her longtime friend and neighbor, Harris. Nash, who is 80, lives alone on her ranch outside of Reno. In its heyday, Tamarosa was a divorce ranch. In the 1940's and 1950's divorce laws were very different than now. Nevada had some of the least stringent laws, but in order to get a Nevada divorce one must establish residency by living there for six weeks. The divorce ranches filled this need and acted as a sanctuary and community for those in need. The ranch held many secrets.At the same time as the phone call, Callie discovered a slip of paper with a woman's name and number in her husband's things. There had been a strain in their relationship for awhile and this put Callie over the edge leading to her packing a bag and heading to Reno from her home in Seattle.Once at Tamarosa, Callie had many things with which to come to terms; her ailing aunt, her sister Shaye's appearance at the ranch, the strained communication with her husband Thomas, and the intense attraction to land management agent Kit Covey. All three ladies make their intertwined but separate journeys.This book is so well written, so poignant, that if I had highlighted every line that touched my soul the book would have been almost completely highlighted. I have never read anything that spoke to me the way this book did. Descriptions of the feelings Callie expresses were absolutely spot on, and the metaphor for the wild horses, the cycles in the desert, and the cycles of life were extremely well crafted. This maybe the first of Deb Caletti's novels that I have read, but I am certain that it will not be the last.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. Years & Secrets By Circumspect 4 This is the first book that I have read by Deb Caletti, an award-winning author and National Book Award finalist. This book is about two sisters, Callie & Shaye, who are both married, and having marital troubles. They are sent out by their mother to visit their 80 year old, Aunt Nash on her Nevada Tamarosa Ranch. The ranch used to be used as a "divorce ranch", where women would come to stay for 6 weeks to get a divorce. Callie has been married for over twenty years and Shaye in on her third marriage. The ranch again becomes a place for Callie and Shaye to work out their marital troubles.The description of the Nevada scenery is excellent, and I like the addition of the fault lines, mustangs, and desert scenery.When I initially started reading the book, I was a little confused as the second chapter is entitled Nash and it starts at a previous time period. So, it had me a little lost at first. It didn't catch my interest right from the start but it was a book that I had to know what was going to happen and what was the secret of Aunt Nash's strange behavior. I was given this book in exchange for an honest review.
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