The Kind of Love That Saves You

by Yurk, Amy

• ISBN13: 9780553801095
• ISBN10: 0553801090
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2000-06-01
• Publisher: Bantam

Summary

Every now and then a gifted new writer bursts on the scene blessed with rare wisdom, dazzling eloquence, and a deep understanding of what it means to be human, to be alive. Amy Yurk is just such a writer, establishing herself with her enthralling debut novel, a tale of loss, friendship, and the resilience of a woman's heart.... Sarah Strickland and her best friend, Calista, have been like sisters since the first day of kindergarten, sharing good times and weathering crises for more than twenty years. Together they've navigated the terrain of school, friendship, romances, breakups, love, and marriage. Six months after Sarah's marriage to Gavin Strickland, Calista wed Gavin's best friend. Now, holding Calista and Mike's bright and boisterous eighteen-month-old, Sarah longs to follow her friend into the sometimes rocky, sometimes breathtakingly beautiful realm of motherhood. But in one shattering second the world changes, and the landscape Sarah enters is one she could not have envisioned. And it is one Calista cannot fully comprehend. Now the growing distance between the two women threatens to deepen the devastating sense of loss Sarah already feels. Calista tries valiantly to be her guide through this dark emotional territory, tries to hurry her over the roughest places, but her attempts to help only alienate the friend she loves. Suddenly, miraculously, someone walks into Sarah's life who understands every twist of the long, heartbreaking path life has set her on. Someone who is capable of guiding her through and showing her that there is a life beyond the pain she feels. But Sarah cannot begin to know if this new friendship, so desperately needed, will provide the healing bond between her and Calista...or become the wedge that will tear them apart forever. A celebration of life, hope, and the healing power of love,The Kind of Love That Saves Youis an electrifying debut, an unforgettable story that will make you smile through your tears...and treasure the loved ones in your own life even more.

Author Biography

Amy Yurk lives in Bellingham, Washington, with her husband and their new baby. This is her first novel.

Excerpts

Fall . . .

Your daddy dropped the bomb a few hours ago. The evening news droned softly in the background as we sat on the sofa after dinner, sharing a Corona and sucking on lime wedges. I was in the middle of telling him that Mike and Calista couldn't get a sitter for next Sunday's dinner plans, when he interrupted me. "We're just not ready to have a baby," he said quickly, as though he had been storing up this announcement like a held breath.

His words didn't surprise me. We've been discussing the possibility of getting pregnant since February. Though lately, as the leaves slip into their vibrant shades of autumn fire, I've begun to think that if you are ever going to be conceived, I'll have to take a needle to my diaphragm.

I waited a moment after he spoke, pulled a long swig off the beer, then set it carefully on the coffee table in front of us. He posed expectantly, leaning forward with wide eyes, waiting for me to agree with him. "Huh," I said, folding my hands carefully on my lap. "Well, then. Sounds like you've got it all figured out. But I'm curious, hon. What exactly does "ready' mean?"

Pressing his lips into a dark line, he crossed his arms over his chest and shot me a frustrated glance. He hates it when I ask him to explain himself; hates it even more when he doesn't have an explanation. "I just don't feel all the way ready, Sarah," he said. "Okay? Isn't that enough?" I shook my head, moved toward him on the couch, and teasingly poked him in the belly. "Nope. It's not." He pushed my hand away and asked, "Why?"

I sighed, flopping back against the worn cushions. "Because, Gavin. Nobody ever feels all the way ready. I think it's more of a process-type thing. You get more ready as you go through it, you know? You learn things. Calista and Mike weren't "ready' when she got pregnant with Davie, and they're great parents." Your daddy snorted and rolled his eyes, saying, "Yeah, great parents. Nice marriage too. If I have to hear about his emotional distance or her PMS one more time, I'm going to shoot myself." He took a section of lime and shoved it in his mouth, skin side out, covering his teeth. He smiled hugely, crossing his eyes at me. "Very attractive," I said, laughing. "I'm trying to be serious here, all right? We've been married five years. Our relationship is solid, don't you think? You love me forever, right?" He paused, pretending to have to think about his answer, then nodded as he pulled the mangled fruit from his mouth. "Yeah . . . I guess you're a keeper." I swatted him on the arm. "Hey! I mean it. I want you to want this as much as I do." Tears rippled the edges of my words.

Your daddy placed his hand against my cheek, a gesture that generally calms me. "I get what you're saying, Sarah-bara. I want to want it too, but I need to catch up with you, okay?" I sniffed and nodded, wanting to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, screaming, "No, no, it's not okay!" He took the last swig from the bottle, kissed the top of my head, and went to take a shower. I waited until I heard the water start to rumble through the pipes before I went down the hall and into the closet of space that serves as my office. Messy towers of press releases and promotional CDs littered my desk; I had to dig through a couple of layers before I found the cordless phone. I called your Auntie Calista.

She was in the middle of getting Davie into his pajamas, but when she heard the tremor in my voice, she passed the baby off to Mike and told me she'd go into their bedroom before we continued our conversation. I pictured her settling back into the fluffy pillows on their bed, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. By this time of night, she would be in her usual evening uniform: gray sweat suit and white socks, her thick black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her face would be shiny and clean, moisturizer applied evenly. Calista has always prided herself on an efficient beauty routine, while I'm more the type who calls it a good day if I remember to scrape off old mascara before piling on more.

Choking a bit on the words, I told her about the conversation with your daddy. "He just doesn't understand what I'm going through. I want to be pregnant so much. I feel this ache, this kind of intense longing down deep in my bones, you know? Every time I come near a baby, I swear, my uterus contracts. Like my body wants it as much as my heart does."

"Wait a second," Calista said. "Is it that you want to have a baby, or more that you just want to be pregnant?"

"It's kind of a means to an end, Calista," I said, slightly annoyed. "I can't exactly have a baby without being pregnant first."

"Well, duh," she said. "I only mention it because the whole time we were growing up, you swore you'd never have children. You thought people shouldn't bring more lives into the world because of war and pain and prejudice and all that jazz. And now suddenly you're all baby, baby, baby."

"It's not suddenly," I protested. "I started feeling this a while ago. Back when you had Davie." I practically moved in with Calista after his birth a year and a half ago, helping her, witnessing the peace that softened her when she looked at him or held him in her arms. I think it was then that it began to dawn on me that our children are our hope, our possibility of success, the ones who might bring a healing touch to the damage we've done to the world. They're what we have left to believe in. "All right, then," Calista said when I told her all this, "buck up and believe. Let it go. Stop pushing him. It'll happen when it's supposed to."

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Excerpted from The Kind of Love That Saves You by Amy Yurk
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