I know you'll be thinking that I left you, but it's not true. All you have to do is remember Firefly Lane, and you'll find me.

There will always be a TullyandKate.

It was signed:

BFF

Kate

She pressed the letter to her chest.

Then she looked down in the box again. There were three things left.

A Virginia Slims cigarette with a yellow sticky note on it that read, Smoke me.

An autographed picture of David Cassidy that said, Kiss me, and an iPod with headphones that said, Play me and dance.

Tully laughed through her tears and lit up the cigarette, taking a drag and coughing on the exhale. The smell of smoke immediately made her think of their nights on the banks of the Pilchuck River, lying against fallen logs, staring up at the Milky Way.

She closed her eyes, put her head back, and tilted her face to the cool autumn sun. A breeze touched her face and tangled in her hair, and with it, she thought: Katie.

Suddenly she felt her friend beside her, above her, all around her, inside her. She heard Kate in the whispering of the wind overhead and the skudding of the golden leaves across the pavement.

She opened her eyes, gasping at the certainty that she wasn't alone.

"Hey, Katie," she whispered, then put on the headphones and hit play.

"Dancing Queen" blared out at her, sweeping her back in time.

Young and sweet, only seventeen.

She stood up, unsure of whether she was laughing or crying. All she really knew was that she wasn't alone, that Kate wasn't gone. They'd had more than three decades of good times and bad times and everything in between, and nothing could take that away. They had the music and the memories, and in those, they would always, always be together.

Best friends forever.

There, standing in the middle of the street, all by herself, she started to dance.

Dear Reader,

In the two decades of my writing career, I have never before been tempted to add any kind of postscript or letter to a novel, and truthfully, I tried to avoid it here. As you can plainly see, that plan failed miserably. The problem, it seems, is the book you've just read.

As you may or may not be able to tell, the writing of Firefly Lane was a very personal journey for me. I grew up in the late seventies in western Washington, a place and time that felt oh-so-dangerous and turbulent back then and now seems sweetly innocent in comparison to today's world. I went to the University of Washington and joined a sorority. All of the music mentioned throughout the story reminds me of those long-gone days. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road was the first album I bought with my own money.

And I lost my mother to breast cancer. Like so many women, I have spent a lifetime being on the lookout for danger signs. I do my self-exams and have my yearly mammograms; I do everything I'm supposed to do.

That's why inflammatory breast cancer, or IBC, is so frightening. It presents in sly and unexpected ways. Often family physicians overlook or misdiagnose the symptoms, and as we all know, when it comes to cancer, timing is everything. So I want to urge women to add the IBC warning signs to their list of symptoms to look for, and I'd add that if something feels wrong, don't be afraid to ask questions or get second opinions. We women know our bodies; we know when something doesn't feel or look right. We need to embrace our knowledge of ourselves and not take no for an answer.

I know it can be scary and difficult, but fear is no excuse to turn away. If you find yourself hesitating, or giving in to your fear, look to a friend for help and support. That's the best thing about being a woman—we're always there for each other. As Tully and Kate would say: no matter what.

Thank you for reading.

Table of Contents

Part One THE SEVENTIES

Part Two THE EIGHTIES

Part Three THE NINETIES

Part Four THE NEW MILLENNIUM

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 1068