The Tin Box - Softcover

Kennedy, Holly

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0765351048 ISBN 13: 9780765351043

Publisher: Forge Books, 2006

Synopsis

Growing up, Kenly Lowen's life was shaped around a widowed alcoholic father who made it clear that he never wanted her in the first place. She emerged from childhood determined to find happiness. Today, at thirty-two, Kenly has a husband and a son who mean the world to her; the kind of life she always dreamed of having.

When her closest childhood friend dies, Kenly is given an old tin box they once shared - a tin box they hid on the roof of a tree house fifteen years earlier. Inside is a secret she has kept for years. To reveal it could end her marriage and shatter her world, but can she continue to shoulder the weight of years of silence?

Kenly's is a story filled with heartbreak, tragedy, and hope. In a small town filled with hidden treasures, young Kenly discovers people who change her life. From terminally ill Tommy, who loves her, to old Max, who shows her that a fire pit is sometimes the best medicine, to edgy Lexie, who believes life should be lived, The Tin Box will take Kenly on an unforgettable journey. The decision she finally makes will test the ties that bind people together against a wound that could tear them apart.

The Tin Box is an achingly beautiful novel of one woman's desire to save all that she loves while honoring the past that made her into the woman she is.

About this title

About the Author

The Tin Box is Holly Kennedy's first novel. She lives with her husband in Alberta, Canada.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

THE TIN BOX
chapter 1SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIERKENLY ALISTER WAS FIFTEEN YEARS OLD and in the middle of year-end exams in Kalispell, Montana, when her life started falling apart all over again. She and her dad had been living there eight months and four days--something she tracked religiously on her bedroom calendar. It wasn't a record, but it was a good sign that maybe this time they would stay put until she graduated from high school.She was lying on the couch studying, surrounded by the cracked, gunmetal-gray walls of their living room, when she heard her dad's heavy footsteps come up the walk an hour earlier than usual. Frowning, she looked at her watch. They had a routine, and this wasn't part of it. Every morning, he drove nine blocks to school, parked, and disappeared into the teachers'lounge half an hour before she even rolled out of bed. Then, at the end of each day, she got home at least an hour before he did. Pushing aside a twinge of worry, she told herself everything was fine. When he pulled the screen door open and dropped his briefcase on the floor, she tried to convince herself itwas just her imagination that the air in the room had changed or that he seemed to be avoiding her eyes. Muttering under his breath, he yanked the door shut and gave it the extra tug it always needed, prompting her cat, Java, to come skidding around the corner, where she disappeared underneath the couch."Stupid bloody cat," he said, shedding his jacket on his way into the kitchen.Kenly chewed on the ice from her drink and gave his back a heavy stare. She'd found Java a year earlier under the front steps of the house they were renting, and had had to tear a few old boards off with a crowbar and wriggle underneath through the dead grass just to catch her. Emaciated, starving, and with the jittery personality of someone who's sucked back a pound of espresso, the cat seemed to fit the name "Java" perfectly. She followed Kenly everywhere, but she turned into a nervous wreck whenever she saw Kenly's dad.Clearing her throat, Kenly held her spot in the textbook with a finger and called out, "My day wasn't bad, thanks. How about yours?"Her dad taught tenth- and eleventh-grade remedial math for students who either were struggling with the basics or were behaviorally challenged--neither easy to work with. He muttered something unintelligible, then came back around the corner with a drink in one hand and the tense, uneasy look of someone who's just been pulled over for speeding. The cuffs of his shirt were rolled back and his tie had slipped out of the knot he'd put it in that morning."What's wrong?" she asked. "Have trouble in one of your classes today?"He raised his eyebrows and grabbed the remote control. "Something like that." He flipped through the channels, then set his drink down and made a big production of rubbing his shoulder, slowly kneading it with the heel of his hand as if she was supposed to believe he was having a drink because it ached after a hard day of teaching and notbecause of the drinking problem they both knew he had. Disgusted, she lowered her gaze back to her textbook."Math exam?" he asked.She nodded but didn't lift her head.He turned off the TV and went down the hall to his bedroom; then she heard the telltale squeak of his closet door and knew he was looking for the bottle of vodka he kept hidden on the top shelf behind his suitcase--the one he thought she didn't know about. She swallowed hard, rubbed her temples, and went back to studying, dangling the fingers of one hand to entice Java back out.It was five o'clock when she glanced up and saw a leggy redhead striding up their front steps. They almost never got company, and rarely anyone as crisp and all-business as this woman. Sensing something was wrong, Kenly frowned and slid off the couch, but her dad came down the hallway and pushed past her on unsteady legs. When he pulled the door open, Kenly saw the determined look on the redhead's face and guessed that these two weren't going to mix."Well, hel-lo." He let his eyes slide over the woman as if he had the right, then made a box with his fingers and peered through it with a lopsided grin. "Now isn't that a picture."Kenly's stomach rolled and she tried to grab his arm, but he shook her off. Staggering back against the door, he motioned their visitor in with a dramatic sweep of one arm.The woman didn't move. "Mr. Alister?"He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, lit the last one, and tossed the empty pack on the floor. "Call me Steve."She handed him an envelope. "Okay, Steve, this is for you."His face darkened for a split second, and then he grinned with one side of his mouth, pulled hard on his cigarette, and blew smoke in a stream over her head. Kenly waited a half beat, slipped past him, and took theenvelope from the woman, nodding politely to her before closing the door. He had a tendency to push things too far, but when he was drinking they spiraled out of control even faster than usual.Her hand was shaking when she gave him the envelope. "What's going on?"He didn't answer, just tore it open and read the letter from top to bottom as she inspected one of her fingers, half-guessing at what he would say next. Finally he murmured, "It was time to move anyway.""You can't be serious.""Sometimes change is good."But she saw his hands shaking and knew it wasn't true, knew he hated moving as much as she did, and saw the flicker of worry that told her he'd been fired again. A familiar feeling of panic rose up and circled her chest, looking for a spot to land. This would be their sixth move in less than three years. "I don't want to move.""You're just nervous."She leaned forward, trying again. "But it's hard making new friends.""You do fine.""Dad, you're not listening."His eyes met hers and held them until she looked away. "I'm listening, Kenly, but it doesn't change the fact that we're moving."Looking around the kitchen, her eyes settled on a stack of boxes she'd left by the back door weeks ago. Boxes she'd asked him to take out to the shed, filled with things they never used. One crammed with photo albums, another stuffed with camping gear, and the last one taped shut, her mom's broken studio stand wrapped up inside next to a bag of oil paints. Now the boxes would all be moved somewhere else, where no one knew Kenly and her dad, and where they'd get another new phone number and another fresh start.As reality hit her in the face, Kenly's hopes evaporated and she left the room, rounding the corner into the hallway,where she stopped and pressed her back against the wall. Moving meant starting over again, and that thought sent a wave of nausea through her. She wanted to go back and ask him why. Why he kept getting fired, why he drank so much, and why he didn't seem to care about anything anymore. Grandma Alister often said he used to love the challenge of teaching, but that was years ago, before her mother died. Now he was the kind of teacher who didn't last in the good schools and couldn't even hold on to the jobs he found in small towns."He never got over losing your mother," Grandma would often say, defending him.Kenly sighed, knowing that she'd seen the signs, but had ignored them. After all, he'd called in sick twice last week, and then Grandma had phoned when he didn't show up to drive her to Missoula. That alone should have set off alarm bells. A friend of Grandma's had won two tickets to a George Strait concert, and even though she was seventy-eight, Grandma couldn't wait to go. She thought George was the sexiest country singer alive, and going to his concert was all that she'd talked about for months.Kenly's dad had been passed out on the couch while Grandma cried at the other end of the line--wilting sobs that made Kenly feel so sick she'd flopped into a chair, pinched her eyes shut, and lied. "He feels just sick about it, Gran. That stupid car of ours broke down again and ..." It was one of her better performances, and when she finally hung up, she flicked off the lights and went to bed, hoping that he'd sleep through the night and leave her alone. Often when he drank, he'd shake her awake in the middle of the night in one of his the-world-has-shit-on-me moods that made her so crazy. Then he'd sit on the edge of her bed and give her the same speech every time, the one he always offered to justify why he was who he was today."I met your mom the year I graduated from college, and do you know that the first time she smiled at me, I knew? The way you know when you've been looking foryears, dating lots of different women, waiting, and watching--absolutely certain of what it is that you're looking for. Then she shows up, isn't anything like you'd imagined, and you go stupid when she smiles at you."He would slump forward with his elbows on his knees, like a man defeated by something he hadn't seen coming, then say, "Tell me, how are you supposed to keep going when you lose a woman like that?" Kenly never answered, just sat with her legs pulled against her chest, staring at his high bald forehead or scraping at the polish on her fingernails, listening until he ran out of steam.Biting the inside of her cheek, she poked her head around the corner and watched him, bent at the waist and back humping convulsively as he dry-heaved into the kitchen sink. When he straightened, he opened the fridge freezer, dropped a handful of ice into a glass, and filled it with vodka from an almost-empty bottle he'd hidden in the pantry. She knew tomorrow he'd look for another job and then go through a week of predictable just-you-watch-me speeches when he found one, puffed up and full of bluster with a clean slate in front of him.Heading for the back door, Java bolted between Kenly's legs into the kitchen, and her dad stumbled backward, almost tripping over her. "Neurotic bloody cat!" Pushing the screen door open, he kicked her outside, guzzled his drink, and threw the empty vodka bottle at the garbage can, but he missed and it shattered against the wall.Kenly shrank back around the corner and crept downstairs to count how many boxes they had, how many they needed, and how long it would take to pack everything up again. When Java didn't come home later that night, Kenly spent an hour prowling the neighborhood, calling out for her. It was after midnight when she finally gave up, left the front door propped open with a soup can, and fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Java.The next morning, she woke up when the screen door bounced shut against its frame. Sitting up, she leanedover the back of the couch and rubbed her eyes. Then they widened and she went absolutely still. Rain streaked sideways across the window, blown by the wind, but she could see her dad in the street using the toe of one foot to poke at Java's motionless body. Her heart started to pound until it filled her ears. Not Java!Her dad bent over, slowly shaking his head.Oh, God, please not Java!He scooped her up with one hand and walked back to the house, the cat's limp body flopping back and forth in time with each step that he took. As Kenly watched, a rush of tenderness flowed through her, a hot sweetness she could almost taste as she clenched her fists against her knees. Java, as endearing as she was neurotic, twining herself around her ankles or trailing after her in the wet grass, shaking one foot and then the other before climbing into Kenly's lap and falling asleep curled nose to tail.She slammed both palms against the window, startling her dad, and when he looked up, he gave her a brisk shake of his head that told her Java was dead. Unable to pull her eyes away, Kenly watched as he laid the cat in a cardboard box on the front steps and then disappeared with it around the corner of the house.Chest heaving, she pressed her hands against her mouth to muffle what would fly out if she didn't hold it in. Then a burst of anger bubbled up inside, and she pushed off the couch and ran into the kitchen. Slipping on her shoes, she pushed the back door open and hurried down the steps. Her dad was next to the fence, shovel in hand as he stood over two yellow circles of dead grass where their garbage cans usually sat--the same garbage cans where he usually stashed all his empty vodka bottles, thinking she wouldn't see them.Java was lying in the box on the ground next to him.Kenly's legs felt like sacks of cement as she made her way across the yard, icy wind tunneling up her sleeves and pant legs. Java had been hers. Hers to feed and take care of, and hers to babble to at the end of each day, in aworld where she'd learned to make a game of each move that she and her dad made. How close would their new phone number be to their last? Would their new neighbors be married or single, old or young, have kids, grandkids, or pet parrots? (One of their neighbors the year before had had two.) Would their new house number be odd or even? Or would they live in a house at all? Maybe this time it'd be a trailer, or an apartment, or a drafty basement suite. She would jot down all her guesses, seal them in an envelope, and open it after they'd moved, writing in the correct answers next to each one.She was crying when she came up to him, hands clenched before her. "L-let me d-do it."He turned and raised his eyebrows. "Kenly."Not allowing herself to look at Java, she motioned for him to give her the shovel. He gave her a worried look, but handed it to her, and at that moment, Kenly had no idea where she would bury Java, except, of course, not here. Not underneath two circles of dead grass where someone else's garbage would rot on top of her grave long after Kenly and her dad were gone.Lightning zigzagged across the sky in the distance; then thunder boomed overhead. Holding the shovel in one hand, she picked up the box and cradled it under her arm, then walked out of their yard and down the alley to a path she knew would take her to a grassy hill--a quiet spot where she'd often brought Java when she did her homework.And it was here that she buried her in the pouring rain.Here that she struck her fists against her knees and hovered over Java's grave, crying in silence.With each move, the loneliness had gotten worse, and Kenly became even more distanced from anyone she'd been close to before. When letters sent to old friends went unanswered, she'd stopped sending them, recognizing that her friends were busy and had moved on to other friends. No one visited Kenly and her dad anymore except a relative now and then or Grandma Alister, whodidn't travel much, although eventually she always showed up, no matter where they moved. Grandma never said much. She just walked in, gave a big smile, and took over. She would wander around the house, bony hands on her narrow hips, then set about organizing."Let's get you fed," she'd say, steering Kenly into the kitchen.Kenly often wondered what it would have been like to have a mother like her. With arms that hugged tight and left you weak when they pulled away; arms you wanted to crawl straight into after you'd had a bad day. Grandma had a way of leaning forward when she listened that made Kenly feel like she mattered. She would perch on the edge of a chair and prop her chin in her hands, weighing every word Kenly said before offering any comments. And n...

About this edition

• Publisher: Forge Books
• Publication date: 2006
• ISBN 10: 0765351048
• ISBN 13: 9780765351043
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Language: English
• Number of pages: 320