Chapter 15

“Your father would drive to Hell and back if it had an interstate,” his mother once said, exasperated. But Jade blessed him for it, and thanked God for days of lettuce fields dotted by water towers and nights under the stars when his siblings slept all around him in the back seat, and he was alone with his dreams and the ever-present moon and the bell-like sound of his mother’s voice singing softly to the radio.

Nan was a good car-radio singer, too, and she and Jade often dueted on Springsteen’s “Because the Night” as they drove deep into the evening. The rest of the time they talked about the families that each saw only through the eyes of the other. Hers was a chilly portrait gallery—the self-absorbed socialite mother; the brutal businessman/father; the husband who started out a prince only to wind up Henry VIII; the baby lost; the endless miscarriages; the giving up, “surrendering to life,” as she called it.