The Confession Club Read online

  Today Monica and Tiny and their baby are coming for lunch. It had looked like they’d need to eat inside, but then, about fifteen minutes before they were due, the sun came out. So now Iris, wearing her gardening clogs and one of Lucille Howard’s gingham aprons over her jeans and T-shirt, is setting the picnic table she bought for the backyard. She figures the inconvenience of a little mud pales next to the sight of acres of land and a true-blue sky, a color Nola calls wowsome. Out here, they’ll see the curious llamas lined up along the fence line and the chickens gossiping in their noisy cliques. They’ll see waving wildflowers, they’ll enjoy the scent of the wet earth, and they’ll have the opportunity to view close-up the air and water show put on by the birds and the bees and the butterflies—Iris likes nothing more than to watch birds bathe in a mud puddle. Next week, the baby goats will arrive.

  She lays down a vintage tablecloth, plates, glasses, and silverware. In the center of the table, she puts out a big vase filled with things she gathered yesterday: coneflowers and wild petunias and blue-eyed prairie grass. Then, hands on hips, she stands back to survey the table, the land, the house. She believes that what she has created here is an expression of faith in the widest sense of the word. She understands to the bone the value of this particular kind of resuscitation. What a feeling, to have taken a risk that so many others might have advised against, and to have things come out this way!

  When her guests arrive, Iris exclaims over baby Anthony for so long that Monica finally says, “Oh, for Pete’s sake! Take him! Tiny and I will bring out the food!”

  They eat summer corn chowder, turkey burger sliders, and homemade potato chips; and the baby, seated in his car seat between Tiny and Iris on one side of the bench, sleeps the whole time. But then, just as Iris is ready to bring out the triple-berry shortcake, Monica rises up so suddenly from her seat opposite them that Iris thinks she has been stung by a bee.

  “Monica?” Iris says, alarmed.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. We just have to go.” She nods at Tiny. “We have to go now. Take the baby and put him in the car.”

  “What—”

  “We gotta go right now, hon,” Monica says.

  “Are you okay?” Iris asks. “What happened? Did I do something to offend you?”

  “Oh, no,” Monica says. “We just have to go.” She looks pointedly at Tiny.

  “All right. I’m just going to use the facilities first.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  He stares at her, his hands on his hips.

  “Tiny,” she says. “Please.”

  Tiny heads off with the baby and Monica says, “Bye, Iris. Call me later.”

  She runs to the car and Iris stands there, puzzled, but then starts to clear the table. She’ll bring the shortcake to Confession Club tomorrow night.

  When she is climbing the back porch steps, she sees something. Off in the distance, at the side of the road, there is a lone figure walking toward her, a black dog at his side. She recognizes the man’s silver hair, the lean to the left in his walk, the apologetic set to his shoulders. And yes, she has always wanted to have a reason to run to the man she loves, but this time she stands perfectly still and just waits. Funny, it seems like the same thing.

  For Phyllis Florin

  and

  Marianne Quasha

  Acknowledgments

  When authors publish books, it is customary that they use the acknowledgments page to thank people: editors, agents, reference sources, people in art departments and on sales and publicity teams, readers, loved ones, even pets. But this time, I’d like to thank just one person, Beth Pearson, who is an associate copy chief at Random House. Book after book, I’ve had the great pleasure to work with her and to profit from her expertise. Beth, this letter is for you. I hope you won’t mind copyediting it!

  * * *

  —

  Dear Beth,

  You and I both know that there are a lot of people in the world who care about grammar and punctuation—though not enough people, if you ask me. (I don’t understand why everyone isn’t up in arms over the ever-increasing misuse of apostrophes.) In elementary and high school, I loved diagramming sentences. I loved taking tests about proper use of the English language. I loved the sound of intransitive verb, prepositional phrase, direct object, dependent clause. I still love learning about grammar: One of my favorite books is Mary Norris’s Between You & Me: Confessions of a Comma Queen.

  For those of us authors who delight in and respect the language, copy editors like you are indispensable for helping us to get it right on the page. You are like the hair and makeup people whom actors visit before they are seen by the public. You are like the net beneath the trapeze artists. Authors are the friend in need to whom you are the friend indeed. And you rarely get the recognition you deserve.

  We’ve worked on a lot of books together, and I was always glad to get your comments and questions, to work with you to find a better way, a clearer way, and, oftentimes, a more amusing way to say things. It was never work; it was fun! Even though we never met, I counted you as one of my friends.

  Now that you are retiring from this job you’ve held for several decades, I want to offer you a million thanks, Beth. And a million good wishes, too, as you begin the next phase of your life. I hope you’ll find joy and satisfaction in whatever you choose to do. But mostly I hope you’ll find a way to work on my books as a freelancer until I retire, too.

  Much love,

  Elizabeth

  BY ELIZABETH BERG

  The Confession Club

  Night of Miracles

  The Story of Arthur Truluv

  Still Happy

  Make Someone Happy

  The Dream Lover

  Tapestry of Fortunes

  Once Upon a Time, There Was You

  The Last Time I Saw You

  Home Safe

  The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted

  Dream When You’re Feeling Blue

  The Handmaid and the Carpenter

  We Are All Welcome Here

  The Year of Pleasures

  The Art of Mending

  Say When

  True to Form

  Ordinary Life: Stories

  Never Change

  Open House

  Escaping into the Open: The Art of Writing True

  Until the Real Thing Comes Along

  What We Keep

  Joy School

  The Pull of the Moon

  Range of Motion

  Talk Before Sleep

  Durable Goods

  Family Traditions

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ELIZABETH BERG is the author of many bestselling novels, including Open House (an Oprah’s Book Club selection), Talk Before Sleep, and The Year of Pleasures, as well as the short story collection The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted. Durable Goods and Joy School were selected as ALA Best Books of the Year. She adapted The Pull of the Moon into a play that enjoyed sold-out performances in Chicago and Indianapolis. Berg’s work has been published in thirty-one countries, and three of her novels have been turned into television movies. She is the founder of Writing Matters, a quality reading series dedicated to serving author, audience, and community. She teaches one-day writing workshops and is a popular speaker at venues around the country. Some of her most popular Facebook postings have been collected in Make Someone Happy and Still Happy. She lives outside Chicago.

  elizabeth-berg.net

  Facebook.com/​bergbooks

  What’s next on

  your reading list?

  Discover your next

  great read!

  Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.

  Sign up now.

  br />