Page 4 of The Dark Before Light

The buzzing thankfully stops, though no voicemail arrives. Stuffing down my curiosity, I focus on catching up with Mia. I relish our standing monthly breakfasts, especially now that they have an expiration date—or at least an upcoming hiatus.

As Mia shifts in her chair and winces, I ask, “And how’s the tiny terror treating his mama today?”

Her smile is radiant as she rubs a hand over her rounded belly. “Currently tap-dancing on my bladder.”

I make a face. “That sounds awful—I mean, so happy for you.”

She laughs, and my phone starts buzzing again. We look down at the same time to see the caller. Gail Katz.

“Weird,” I mutter.

The phone stops buzzing. Once again, there’s no voicemail.

Mia gives me a concerned look. “You should call her back. What if she can’t leave a message or text for some reason?”

I sigh and grab the phone. Mia is a counselor at a middle school and her husband, Leo, is a gifted psychiatrist. Bleeding hearts, the both of them.

I scoot back my chair and stand. “Fine, but only because I can’t say no to a pregnant woman. Be right back.”

She waves me off. “I know the drill.”

Stepping out of our secluded corner, beautifully screened by potted trees, I stride purposefully across the crowded restaurant toward the patio doors. Eyes follow me and whispers ripple in my wake, a recent development in my life and a giant hassle.

For the thousandth time in the last two weeks, I regret the charitable impulse that made me say yes to an interview with a tiny, online health blog. If I’d known the interviewer was going to warp my words for maximum shock value and pitch the resulting article to Buzzfeed, I never would have agreed.

Live and learn.

The patio is empty, the January temps keeping diners indoors. I take a deep breath of the ocean-scented breeze, then dial Gail. It rings twice before she answers.

“Talia, hi! I’m so sorry for calling twice. I should have left a voicemail or texted, but I panicked. Both times. Sorry.”

I’m suddenly back in a cramped off-campus apartment at UCLA with the fastest talker I’ve ever met. It brings a smile to my face.

“Hey, Gail. How are you?”

“Um, good. I’m good.” She giggles, a nervous burst of sound. “You’re probably wondering why I called. Twice.”

“A little, yeah. Not that it’s not nice to hear from you.”

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, it’s nice to hear your voice, too.” She hesitates, and I have a ten-year-old memory of her face flushing in embarrassment. “Sorry again. I’m not really sure how to say this.”

“What’s going on?” I ask gently.

“I need a favor. A big one.” She takes a breath. “Long story short, my brother-in-law is in dire straits. His situation is unique, and, um?—”

I frown as she falls silent. A few seconds later, I hear a door close.

“Gail?”

“Yes, sorry.” She suddenly sounds like a different woman. Tired and stressed. “I heard my husband coming downstairs. He knows I’m calling someone who might be able to help, but it’s a touchy subject. He’s really worried about his brother.”

I chew my lip, wishing I hadn’t listened to Mia. “I’m really sorry about whatever’s going on with your brother-in-law, but this isn’t how I operate. If you want to pass along my information to him, feel free to do that. Full disclosure, though, I think my soonest appointment isn’t until late March.”

There’s a long beat of silence, another indicator of maturity from a woman who rarely thought before she spoke.

“He can’t wait that long,” she says finally, her voice even softer. “I realize there’s a risk I’m burning the bridge of our friendship, but I’m begging you, Talia. Help him. Please try.”

My stomach sinks. Dropping my head back, I stare at the giant, spiky fronds of a nearby palm tree.

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