Out of the Clear Blue Sky

Description

From New York Times bestselling author Kristan Higgins comes a funny and surprising new novel about losing it all—and getting back more than you ever expected.
 
Lillie Silva knew life as an empty nester would be hard after her only child left for college, but when her husband abruptly dumps her for another woman just as her son leaves, her world comes crashing down. Besides the fact that this announcement is a complete surprise (to say the least), what shocks Lillie most is that she isn’t heartbroken. She’s furious.
 
Lillie has loved her life on Cape Cod, but as a mother, wife, and nurse-midwife, she’s used to caring for other people . . . not taking care of herself. Now, alone for the first time in her life, she finds herself going a little rogue. Is it over the top to crash her ex-husband’s wedding dressed like the angel of death? Sure! Should she release a skunk into his perfect new home? Probably not! But it beats staying home and moping.
 
She finds an unexpected ally in her glamorous sister, with whom she’s had a tense relationship all these years. And an unexpected babysitter in, of all people, Ben Hallowell, the driver in a car accident that nearly killed Lillie twenty years ago. And then there’s Ophelia, her ex-husband’s oddly lost niece, who could really use a friend.
 
It’s the end of Lillie’s life as she knew it. But sometimes the perfect next chapter surprises you . . . out of the clear blue sky.Praise for Out of the Clear Blue Sky

“The perfect beach read. Out of the Clear Blue Sky provides the kind of heart-warming tale of hard-fought growth, crazy family and welcoming community that will linger with you long after the final page.”—#1 NYT bestselling author Lisa Gardner

“Reading a Kristan Higgins novel is like spending time with a dear friend, one who understands your soul, captivates your senses…and every now and then makes you snort with laughter. Higgins never disappoints! If you’re looking for a novel brimming with heart and humor, look no further than Out of the Clear Blue Sky. Each time I opened this book, it felt like reuniting with a dear friend. With her trademark wit, Higgins’ tackles tough issues, and does so with sensitivity and heart. Out of the Clear Blue Sky is everything I love in women’s fiction—smart, hilarious, and brimming with heart and hope.”—Lori Nelson Spielman, New York Times bestselling author of The Star-Crossed Sisters of Tuscany

“Your big summer read has arrived! Book after book, Kristan Higgins is a can’t-miss author who always serves up stories that are fresh, relevant, and deeply involving.”—Susan Wiggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“From the first page, I was deeply invested in Lillie’s plight and desperate to keep turning pages. Kristin Higgins nails it with this laugh-oud-loud, pitch-perfect, heartfelt novel about a woman’s life upended and the unexpected ways she finds her way forward. Full of hope, positive messages and humor, Out of the Clear Blue Sky is the perfect book for summer, or anytime!”—Elyssa Friedland, author of Last Summer at the Golden Hotel

“A fantastic journey with a brave, delightful and mischievous heroine who will keep you laughing and rooting for her from page one. I did not want this book to end!”—Jane L. Rosen, author of Eliza Starts a Rumor

“With a blend of humor and poignancy reminiscent of Nora Ephron’s Heartburn…. [Out of the Clear Blue Sky is] a beautifully told blend of grief, hope, and humor that showcases Higgins at her best.”—Kirkus (Starred Review)

“Higgins has created an accomplished protagonist with strong values, a good heart, and an enviable network of friends. Everyone in the community is on her side; take that, ex-husband! This will be satisfying for readers who like to see a strong woman thrive during times of trial.”—Library Journal

“Higgins is known for her emotionally potent novels about characters whose lives are in transition….A big-hearted treat for relationship-fiction readers.”—Booklist

“An emotional, funny tale of second chances.”—Woman’s World

Praise for Always the Last to Know

“A thoroughly entertaining exploration of families’ complexities—from bitter disappointment to quiet strengths.”—People, Pick of the Week

“Filled with hilarious honesty and heartwarming moments…. A moving portrait of a family putting their differences aside in favor of love.”—Woman’s World

“This sparkling story is perfect summer reading.”—Publishers WeeklyKristan Higgins is the New York Times, USA TODAY and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of more than twenty novels, which have been translated into more than two dozen languages and have sold millions of copies worldwide. Her books have received dozens of awards and accolades, including starred reviews from Entertainment Weekly, People, Kirkus, The New York Journal of Books, Publishers Weekly, Library Journal and Booklist.

The happy mother of two snarky and well-adjusted adults, Kristan enjoys gardening, mixology, the National Parks and complimenting strangers on their children. She lives in Connecticut with her heroic firefighter husband, cuddly dog and indifferent cat. Find her online at KristanHiggins.com, twitter.com/Kristan_Higgins, and facebook.com/KristanHigginsBooks.Reader’s Guide
Out of the Clear Blue Sky by Kristan Higgins
Discussion Questions:

1.   It’s not uncommon for a marriage to fall apart just as children leave home as young adults. More than one person has been told the week or even day of their youngest child’s graduation from high school that their partner is leaving them. Why do you think that happens? Do you think men initiate a breakup more than women?

2.   Why do you think Lillie married Brad? She thought they had a strong marriage, but in hindsight, she sees things she didn’t before. Was it all bad, or did Brad change?

3.   When Brad tells Lillie he’s leaving her, she keeps eating the coconut cake. Why do you think she does that? And in the middle of their fight, she and Brad both pause to joke about a song they both love. Why do you think that happens?

4.   They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Lillie disagrees and takes bitter delight in some of her actions while Brad is still living at home and after he moves in with Melissa. What did you think about her ways of leaving her mark, so to speak? Was she justified in these actions, or did you think she was being petty?

5.   Melissa is a woman who seems to have no remorse about moving in on another woman’s husband. She’s completely confident that she’ll get Brad, and she’s right. Have you ever known someone like Melissa, who dismisses other people’s feelings in order to get what she wants? Which of Melissa’s qualities did you admire, if any, and why?

6.   Motherhood is a recurring theme in this book. Lillie is well aware that her son is moving away from her both geographically and emotionally—as it should be, she says, but which is a painful experience nonetheless. Her own mother seemed to barely tolerate her. Melissa uses Ophelia almost as a prop, but their relationship changes as well. Hannah has Beatrice, and Lillie adores her mother-in-law. There are so many different mother-child relationships in this book. Which do you think are best and worst, and why?

7.   Lillie’s anger at Brad for leaving her is based on her feeling that the divorce would destroy their family, and the family’s future. So many people deal with this changed dynamic after a divorce, from the former in-laws to the kids and grandkids. Did you relate to Lillie’s protectiveness of her family and its future? Could you stay after infidelity to preserve your family? Do you know a couple who’s stayed friends after a divorce?

8.   How did the various Cape settings play a role in the book and affect the characters? Lillie never wanted to live anywhere else; her mother hated the house on Herring Pond and moved to the more glamorous place in Provincetown. Hannah makes a healthy living as a Cape Cod wedding planner; Beatrice leaves after thirty years there. Melissa moves to Wellfleet because she thinks she can stand out more. What did their various views say about the women in this book?

9.   Lillie survives an attempted sexual assault but feels powerless to turn Chase in or even tell anyone about it. With the Me Too movement, so many similar stories have come to light. Do you think things have changed in our culture since Lillie was a teen so that girls feel more empowered to report?

10. Discuss the way Melissa uses people—her college boyfriend, Dennis, Ophelia, Brad and others. What were some other choices she could have made, given her background? Does she have more than her looks, despite what she thinks? What does she learn in hindsight, if anything? How does her relationship with Ophelia and Kaitlyn grow during the book? Did you have any sympathy for Kaitlyn?

11.  Brad repeatedly asserts that he deserves joy at the expense of all other considerations, which enrages Lillie. What do you think Brad means by that? Do you think he is entitled to leave the marriage for this reason? Is he more than a cliché of a middle-aged man? Was Lillie as good a partner as she thought?

12. Why do you think Lillie’s parents got married? How did their marriage affect Lillie’s choice in life and marriage? How do you think it affected Hannah?

13. Lillie assumes Hannah is perfectly content with her life but finds out that’s not quite true. Have you ever learned something about your sibling or close friend that shocked you?

14. Lillie and Melissa’s relationship changed a lot over the course of the book. By the end, do you think they were friends, or could become friends? Have you ever known a situation where the first spouse becomes friends with the second?

15. Later in the novel, Lillie says she likes living alone, which surprises her. What do you think she enjoys? What does she still struggle with? Have you ever lived alone, either by choice or because of someone else’s choice? How did you feel?

16. The author leads us to believe Lillie will develop a true romantic partnership with Ben after the story ends. But does she need that to be happy? Do you think the novel ends happily for her as it is?

17. Many characters in this book do things that anger other characters, but most of them are forgiven by the end in one way or another. What about Melissa and her sister, Kaitlyn? In the end, though Melissa loves her, she does not forgive her or find a way to have an ongoing relationship with her. Why do you think that happened? Do you think there are some people you just can’t mend fences with? Why?

CHAPTER 1

 

Lillie

 

Let’s spin back a few months.

 

Brad had never had great timing. Some examples . . . He booked a weekend for us to New Orleans for September 1. A massive hurricane hit two days before. A decade later, he planned a vacation to Puerto Rico for the last week of October, and New England had a nor’easter that crushed the power grid and grounded all planes for a week the day we were supposed to take off.

 

When he was twenty, his grandfather died and left him a drafty, never-renovated, single-family brownstone in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, a part of New York that no one had really heard of before. Brad, not telling his parents, wanting to be his own man, sold it immediately for $350,000. (The house is worth upwards of $4 million today . . . I check Zillow from time to time.) He invested the real estate sale money in the dot-com bubble four months before it burst and lost every penny he’d earned on the sale.

 

Brad would leave for the airport early enough, but he’d pick the wrong bridge to cross-if he chose the Sagamore, there’d be an accident. If he picked the Bourne, there’d be construction. If he went to the bathroom during one of Dylan’s games, our son would sack the quarterback or make a leaping interception and run the ball in for a touchdown.

 

He proposed to me as I was vomiting up lunch the day I learned I was pregnant. Literally, as I was on my knees in front of the toilet, gacking, he sat on the edge of the tub and said, “Will you marry me, Lillie?” I had to puke twice more before I could answer.

 

And then, the night before our son graduated from high school, he told me he was leaving me, mere seconds after I told him I had booked us a trip to Europe come October.

 

I should’ve known something was up. Brad never arranged our date nights, but that night he had announced he was taking me out to dinner. To Pepe’s in Provincetown, even, one of my favorites, especially because of their incredible coconut cake.

 

“Wow!” I said. Pepe’s was usually reserved for special occasions, like birthdays or anniversaries. “What a nice surprise!”

 

And, you know, how lovely. Maybe Brad was doing this to celebrate our eighteen years, four months, two weeks and three days of parenthood. Dylan Gustavo Fairchild, named for a poet and my grandpa, was our near-perfect son, a wonderful human and the sun, moon and stars to us. Maybe Brad was feeling sentimental, too. Maybe he wanted to talk about our boy and thank me, something he had done at every one of Dylan’s birthdays over the years, which never failed to make me tear up.

 

Maybe he sensed that I was a little terrified of what life would be like without our boy living with us.

 

How thoughtful. And talk about perfect timing! I’d originally been waiting till after graduation to tell my husband about the big surprise. As a reward for raising a child into adulthood and sending him off to college-and to have something exciting and different to look forward to-I’d booked us a trip. In April, sensing Brad was getting a case of the blues (as I was), I’d decided we should take a vacation, just the two of us, something we hadn’t done since our honeymoon, aside from the very occasional weekend away. I spent hours and hours on travel sites, looking for the best hotels, restaurants, cheap flights, special offers, upgrade possibilities.

 

Venice for three days, a train ride into the Swiss mountains, where we’d stay at a beautiful hotel on a lake, then five days in Paris, where Brad had always wanted to go. A trip to begin this new chapter of our lives and take the sting of our son’s absence away.

 

Dylan would be out with his friends tonight, so he wouldn’t miss us. He was the very best of kids-a football player who viewed his body as a temple and all that. Drinking and drugs could seriously screw up his place at the University of Montana. Also, the dangers of drinking, drugs, unprotected sex (and saturated fats) had been drilled into him since his conception. His mommy was a healthcare professional, after all.

 

When I got home from work that night, I shaved my legs and washed my hair, conditioned it so I wouldn’t break the hairbrush-I took after my Portuguese ancestors with thick, coarse black hair. Last year, I’d found a few white strands, too, but hey. Well-earned, right? After I dried off and put on some lipstick and mascara, I decided I was gorgeous and Brad was a lucky man. Then again, he was damn good looking, too, just a little gray in his blond hair, a neatly trimmed beard, his aqua-blue eyes framed by glasses. He had movie star eyes, Beth liked to tell me. Almost too blue to be real.

 

I put on a cute summer dress and pulled my long hair into a side ponytail. Earrings, perfume, strappy sandals. Texted my patient Ciara, who was at thirty-eight weeks and felt like the baby had dropped. How are you feeling, goddess? Anything changed?

 

No, but she just punched me pretty good in the side, and I saw her knuckles, Lillie! So amazing!

 

You’re growing a human, I texted back. YOU are amazing. Have a great night, and call me with any changes.

 

Being a midwife was like being someone’s best friend for an entire year, from the first obstetrical visit-sometimes before, if they come to you for fertility or other issues-to the three-month follow-up. The thrill, the responsibility, the honor of guiding the mama through her pregnancy, birth and postnatal care, not to mention any other female issues she might have in her lifetime . . . it was like nothing else. Ciara was a primipara-this was her first pregnancy-and she was in awe of the whole process, as she should be.

 

Smiling, I went into the front hall, where my husband was waiting. “You look gorgeous,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.

 

“Thanks,” he said, looking up from his phone. “Take a sweater in case it gets chilly.”

 

“Good idea.” He was right . . . spring nights could be wicked cold on the Cape, and P-town, the narrowest part of our little peninsula, always had a breeze off the water. I grabbed a blue sweater from my bureau.

 

As we closed the front door behind us, I stopped to check the swallows that had made a home against the beam and ceiling of our porch. They’d been delightfully noisy the past few days, especially when Mama Bird came to feed them.

 

“Hello, babies,” I said, peeking at their little bald heads. From the nearby lilac, the mama bird chirped, reassuring them that I was good people.

 

“Let’s go, Lillie,” Brad said, waiting at the top of the stairs that led to our driveway. He didn’t love the birds the way I did, and he often startled when coming in, since Mama Swallow was territorial. Me, on the other hand . . . I was a bird lover. I’d grown up in this very house, on this land, and I could identify every bird that graced us by their call and markings. Swallows were favorites of mine, swooping on the water, tails spread in their graceful arc. Plus, they were lucky. They represented a happy home . . . and, if you were feeling morbid, the soul of someone who died. My vov™, I liked to think, because I had adored my grandfather, and he was the one who’d built this house back in the fifties.

 

“Bye, babies. Sleep tight,” I said, then followed my husband down the walk.

 

In the car, I texted Dylan that we were going to Pepe’s for dinner and I hoped he was having fun. Ended it with a heart emoji, because I couldn’t help myself.

 

“He says to have fun and bring him a slice of coconut cake,” I said after the phone buzzed with a response. Soon, I wouldn’t be able to do those little things for my son. “It’s going to be so weird without him.”

 

“Yeah,” said Brad. “But it’s also a new start for all of us.”

 

“It is,” I said, but the familiar lump rose in my throat. My little boy, now six foot three. High school had flown past in a blur of driving to and from Nauset High School, parent-teacher conferences, projects and proofreading his papers. I’d spent thousands of hours sitting on the bleachers, watching him at first stand on the sidelines, then become a starter on the football team. He grew seven inches in three years. He had a girlfriend and was on the honor roll most semesters. He was, and always had been, a wonderful son, good-natured and hardworking and funny, and my heart had been aching since September, when the clock began ticking.

 

Brad was quiet, too. I reached over and patted his leg, and he glanced at me with a quick smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Yes. He was feeling it, too.

 

Five more weeks before Dylan left for football camp. Five weeks left of the life I’d known these past two decades, happier than I could have imagined. Dylan’s birth when I was barely twenty-three, easy and routine and miraculous. Buying our house on Herring Pond from my dad, ensuring that it stayed in the family, and working for years on its renovation. Getting my certified nurse-midwife degree online (from Georgetown!). I worked part-time until Dylan was sixteen and no longer needed me to drive him around, which I missed more than I’d expected.

 

Every single day from his birth onward had been based around taking care of him, whether it was walking the floor the first three months of his life, or making him a steak after school during his growth spurt. Talking with him in the car when he still sat in the back seat, hearing things that he wouldn’t admit at the dinner table . . . a girl he liked, a bad dream he’d had. Teaching him to drive . . . the time when he’d finally mastered parallel parking the night before his test, and had leaped out of the car to hug me-one of the last spontaneous hugs I’d had from him. Oh, he hugged me every day. Just . . . you know. In an obligatory way.

 

In five weeks, I wouldn’t even see him every day. I might not talk to him every day. If he was sick, I couldn’t help. If he broke his leg, I wouldn’t be there.

 

But that’s what you want as a parent. For your kids to grow into independent, self-sufficient adults. If you do your parenting job right, you’re guaranteed heartbreak when the fledgling flies off and leaves you behind. I sent a thought of sympathy to the mama swallow.

 

I reminded myself that I was also a wife, a daughter, a friend, a sister. A midwife. A woman about to go to Europe for the first time ever. It would be good to reconnect with Brad, too, because this past year had been so focused on our boy. The last trip we’d taken had been three years ago, when we drove cross-country. Seeing Yellowstone was the reason Dylan was going to school in Montana.

 

Maybe we could swing a special vacation every year or so, just Brad and me. And sure, Dylan could come if he was on break. We could rent out our house for the month of July and that would pay for the trip. Many adventures still waited for us, I told myself firmly. The best years were still ahead. Traveling, our son in this final phase of childhood, then becoming a man, and hopefully a husband and father. Many adventures, for sure.

 

We turned off Route 6 and headed down 6A, past the Days’ Cottages, each one named after a different flower. When Dylan was little, we’d read every plaque with great enthusiasm-Daisy! Aster! Zinnia! Cosmos! When had that stopped? That constant surge of nostalgia made my throat tighten for the umpteenth time that day.

 

When Brad turned onto Commercial Street, Provincetown’s main street, I automatically checked out the gardens, which were in full spring glory-lilacs and peonies, clematis and irises. My own garden didn’t get full sun, being in the woods, so these were a visual feast. There was my mother’s house. Beatrice, my stepmother, was out in the garden, a big straw hat on her head adorned with a jaunty red scarf. Even in the dirt, she looked glamorous and European. I lifted my hand, but she didn’t see me, which was fine.

 

As we came into the center of town to park, pedestrians and bicyclists meandered on the street. Already so busy, and it wasn’t even Memorial Day. We inched along, smelling the good smells of the dozens of restaurants and cafŽs. A gorgeous night in the prettiest town ever.

 

It was a point of pride to be the daughter of a Portuguese fisherman, and I always felt so welcomed in this town (except by my mother, that is). I knew the other fishermen by name, knew the harbormaster, knew the longtime bartender at the Governor Bradford, knew just about every scruffy townie leaving the dock. And everyone knew I was Pedro Silva’s daughter. The Portuguese fishing industry was still alive and well-my father had retired a couple of years ago, but we still went to the Blessing of the Fleet and the Portuguese Festival each year. Dad, never one to sit still, went out a few times a week with Ben Hallowell, who’d bought the Goody Chapman from him.

 

We parked on the wharf, Brad grumbling about the price as usual, got out and weaved our way down the street through the other pedestrians. When was the last time I’d been to P-town just to stroll? Too long ago. I linked my arm through Brad’s, but we had to part ways when the sidewalk narrowed (or stopped altogether).

 

At Pepe’s, our table was waiting, a snug little booth toward the front of the restaurant. “Can we have a table with a water view?” I asked the server.

 

“I requested this one,” Brad said. “It’s more private, and it’ll get chilly when the sun goes down.”

 

“True. This is great. Thanks, honey.”

 

We looked at the menus and ordered. Brad got a martini, which was new for him . . . he’d started being interested in “mixology” at some point this winter. I ordered a glass of white wine, acknowledging silently that I’d be the one to drive home. Brad was a lightweight, despite his somewhat pretentious grilling of the waitress over gin types and how many dashes of bitters he wanted. That’s what marriage was about, wasn’t it? Putting up with little irritants for the big picture of security and contentment?

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