The Choice I Made

by Cynthia Ellingsen

Genres: Family Life; Literary Fiction; Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

“Phenomenal! Immediately pulled me into the story and I couldn’t set the book down until I’d finished… This will be one of those books that I reach for time and again.” Goodreads reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I don’t know what I’d expected to find. Pictures of her mother, maybe, or a locket. Instead, there was a letter. My breath came fast as I read the first few sentences … When Julie’s mother falls ill, she has no choice but to return to her parents’ Wisconsin resort, Wood Violet, for the summer. Away from the pressures of city life, Julie also hopes the trip will give her and husband Tristan the chance to heal after the heartbreak of another miscarriage. Back home, surrounded by nature and old friends, Julie starts to feel a sense of calm she’d thought she’d lost forever. But her fragile peace is shattered when she stumbles upon an eighteen-year-old girl hiding out in an abandoned cabin. The girl, Margaret, seems lost in the world and Julie wants to help her. But when she finds the letters in her backpack, Julie realizes she isn’t telling the whole truth about why she’s here. And if Margaret finds what she’s looking for, it could expose a long-buried secret that could destroy Julie’s family’s reputation and tear all their lives apart… A beautiful and emotional story about love, betrayal and finding your true home, from the bestselling author of The Lighthouse Keeper. Fans of Mary Ellen Taylor, Barbara O’Neal and This is Not How it Ends will adore Cynthia Ellingsen’s captivating novel. What readers are saying about The Choice I Made : “Kept me turning the pages… I couldn’t put it down and finished it in a day!… feels like a warm hug.” Goodreads reviewer “ Such a beautiful and emotional story… completely captured my heart and my sense of adventure.” Berit Talks Books “ Hooked from the first page… I found myself wanting to read faster and know what happens next.” The Writer’s Workout “ Will tug at readers’ heartstrings and make them laugh and cry… a stirring tale of love, loss and loyalty that manages to be life-affirming, heart-breaking and uplifting at the same time.” Bookish Jottings “Filled with memorable characters… I barely could put it down… There are plenty of twists and turns and the reader is pulled this way and that.” On the Shelf Books “The characters were so easy to relate to and the setting was beautiful… helped take me away like a book should… One of the best books I've read so far in 2021.” Book Dreamer, 5 stars “ Terrific… I didn’t want to stop reading… The characters are so real I felt like I really got to know them.” The Book Lover’s Boudoir “ Captivating… compulsive… packed full of emotion… all set against an exquisite rural backdrop.” Avid Reader’s Retreat “ The characters feel like old friends. There's love for family, friends and husbands along with a bit of mystery and a beautiful setting.” Nicki’s Book Blog, 5 stars “I could very well picture a movie made out of this story… warms your heart and truly makes you escape.” Goodreads reviewer “ I loved this book! It was heartwarming… exactly what I needed with everything going on in the world!” @aliciagoeser “ Such a wonderful story to read! ” @oh.happy.reading

Release date: March 10, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

Tristan stood for a moment in the doorway. Then he chuckled. “I have to hand it to your family. Talk about a sales job.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, setting my purse on the kitchen counter.

The counter’s wood grain was as rustic as our small cabin. My grandfather had handcrafted each detail of the place nearly fifty years ago and I had craved its serenity for ages. I could hardly believe we were finally going to spend a few days here.

Clearly, my husband didn’t feel the same. He’d made passive-aggressive remarks starting the moment we left Chicago and increasing in irritation the closer we got to Wisconsin. It was hot, I was tired, and as my mother liked to say, I’d had it.

“What do you mean by a sales job?” I demanded.

Tristan opened and closed cabinet doors, looking for a glass. The man drank water constantly, because he’d committed to consuming a gallon of it a day for his latest health plan. He eyed the tap water with suspicion before downing it, then gestured at the living area with the empty glass.

“This place. People pay thousands of dollars a week to rent a shack with a good view. It’s impressive.”

The ‘good view’ was a picture window that overlooked Lake Florentine, a freshwater lake surrounded by fir trees. It meant mist with morning coffee, the glint of sunshine on the water during an afternoon book, and a deep sense of peace with every blue heron that skimmed the surface. People were more than willing to pay for that, but of course Tristan had to question it, since he was mad about leaving his cultivated world of structure and steel behind.

“It’s hardly a shack,” I said. “It’s six hundred square feet.”

My dad had assigned us one of the couple’s cabins, complete with a separate bedroom and master bath. The queen bed was cozy as a cocoon and the bathroom had a deep soaking tub that overlooked the lake. There were carefully selected personal amenities like organic soaps from the high-end local soap company, a game closet in the living room, and a curated bookshelf.

The cabin was adorable and I was baffled that Tristan refused to see that, especially since Wood Violet Resort had been in demand longer than he had been alive. My grandparents had bent over backwards to build a legacy and my parents had followed in their footsteps. Countless celebrities and CEOs had stayed here, and they had never uttered a word of complaint. In fact, they came back for more.

I looked at my husband, not sure what to say. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed. It was his successful adviser pose, the one he used to impress upon new clients that he was strong, confident, and up to the challenge of managing their money.

“It’s not a shack,” I repeated.

“Does it have a television?”

“You know it doesn’t.”

He grinned. “Then it’s a shack.”

“Tristan, people love this way of life. They need it to recharge and rejuvenate. To get back to nature.”

“They couldn’t just go camping?” he asked.

Irritated, I looked down at my watch. My father had wanted to talk to me before I went to see my mother, but I still hadn’t heard from him. Check-in day was always slammed and he would be putting out one fire after another, but he’d insisted on meeting up before I went to find her. That had me worried, because it was possible the situation with my mother was worse than what he’d told me on the phone.

My parents were famous for keeping me and my sister in the dark about major issues, especially me, since I was the youngest. It didn’t matter that I was in my early thirties and trusted to legally represent some of the largest insurance companies in the country. I kept telling them they did not need to protect me, but they refused to listen or, maybe, to believe it.

I walked over to the large welcome basket on the table to unpack it, trying not to slap the items onto the counter. Organic raspberries, roasted almonds, dark chocolate with sea salt… My parents worked hard each season selecting the perfect treats. Was Tristan going to make fun of that, too?

I dabbed my shirt against my face. The cabins did not have air conditioning, as the windows were designed to allow a cross-breeze from the lake. I opened them and breathed in the outdoors. Pine, moss, and something darker, like the decay beneath a fallen log.

I turned to face him. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Tristan joined me at the window. He smelled too clean, like sporty cologne and laundry detergent. I moved back to the welcome basket.

“Let’s not start our trip like this.” Tristan followed me to the table and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “Your hair looks pretty.”

“My hair?” My hand fluttered up to touch the wispy strands.

The honey highlights had been done two weeks ago, along with a new cut that fell just above my shoulders. It hardly mattered at this point. My hair was the last thing on my mind.

He rested his lips on my head, then sighed. “Look, I’m just a poor boy from the country.” He pulled back to look at me, his dark eyes sincere. “I get it that rich folk like to shell out to pretend to be normal, but they could go to the spa or one of the million other places around here. It’s impressive that your parents can still bring in a solid clientele based on the old-fashioned camp model. I really am impressed, Julie.”

“Thank you.” It was almost embarrassing how much it meant to me to hear him say that, but I’d wanted to share this with him for so long.

Wood Violet was a part of my soul. Tristan and I had been married for three years now, and had never made it here together. Our work schedules didn’t match up and in the rare moments they did, he wanted to go somewhere big like Greece or the Cayman Islands. The fact that we had four days here together was magic to me and it scared me to think he might not feel the same.

“I’m glad you like it,” I said. “I was worried you were mad to be here at all.”

“Of course not.” Tristan pushed up the sleeves of his white T-shirt, revealing strong forearms. He’d made his country boy remark: there were moments when it was easy to imagine him on the farm, cutting hay or roping cattle. “I’m ready for the great outdoors.”

I’d probably taken his mood the wrong way. My temper was short because I had wanted to come immediately after my mother had a stroke, but I had to finish a case at work, which set me back ten days. That, coupled with the constant crush of the city, had put me on edge. I probably needed to cut him some slack.

My watch buzzed.

The Hut in ten minutes?

“Dad texted.” I was halfway out the door when I realized Tristan wasn’t behind me. “Come on. He won’t have a lot of time.”

“You two should be alone. I’ll get unpacked and go for a run.” He grinned. “It’s not like I can watch TV.”

Maybe it was for the best, since they’d have to play catch-up. This way, we could just get down to business. My dad had made it sound like everything here at the resort was still under control in spite of my mother falling ill, but I wanted to make sure. The past few years had been complicated enough for the hospitality industry. It would be an uphill battle for my father to make this summer a success without my mother by his side.

I followed the woodchip path through the fir trees to the lake. The smell of the water became stronger and I paused before stepping out of the forest. Taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers over the dainty pine needles of the nearest tree. Then, I straightened my shoulders and headed down to the dock to hear the truth.

The Hut, as my family called it, was one of the only places at the resort where privacy was possible. During the busy season, my parents had worked eighteen-hour days and if we were near the guests, we were expected to shake hands or make small talk. The Hut was born to give us a few precious moments as a family to sit and be together.

The cozy wooden shanty was open air, and located at the end of a dock that once anchored fishing boats. My grandfather had built a small wooden gate at the entrance and attached a sign that read ‘Closed to Guests’. Sure, anyone could step over it but no one did, so it felt safe, private, and away from it all.

I found my father on the wooden bench, a sweating cup of iced tea by his side. He must have heard the echo of my footsteps against the wooden planks of the dock but he didn’t stand until I stepped around the corner.

His tanned face split into a smile. “Look who rolled in from the big city.”

“Dad.” It made my heart happy to see him.

His salt and pepper hair was short, neatly smoothed back from his forehead, and he’d always had a slight five o’clock shadow. He looked as fresh and sporty as ever, dressed in his Wood Violet Resort branded white golf shirt, a pair of navy shorts, and Italian loafers. There were heavy bags under his eyes, but those had always been there, and the deep laugh lines right next to them made up for it.

My father looked like a man who’d just heard a good joke or was just about to tell one. I hugged him as tight as I could.

“Chicago’s got some of the best restaurants in the world.” His voice was gruff. “Why are you so skinny?”

“It’s been busy.” Images of missed lunches, hurried dinners spent reviewing paperwork, and a consistent diet of soy nuts and smoothies from the shop below my office flashed through my head. “How are you?”

“Staying up late, counting beans and berries.” My father settled back on the bench. “You know, I cried like a baby two hours ago, thinking about you being here.”

The words made me get a lump in my throat but he’d already moved on, regaling me with stories about the neighboring resorts, their scandals and updates, and the new pastry chef they’d hired to take over for my mother. I knew he was working up to the situation and finally, he glanced at his watch.

“I’ve gotten thirty text messages in the last ten minutes,” he said. “But we need to discuss your mother.”

Ducks traveled across the water. The mama duck led the row, proud as could be. “How is she?”

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.” He took a long drink of iced tea. “Your mother isn’t mobile.”

The smooth surface of the lake nearly tunneled out of my vision.

“What?” I whispered.

My mother had always been like a bumblebee, buzzing around, trying to make life sweet for everyone. If she wasn’t busy with guests, managing the garden, or cooking pastries, she was dancing with my father or having a heart-to-heart with me and my sister. I’d assumed the stroke had caused some facial paralysis and maybe exhaustion, but not this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. “I would have come right away.”

“I didn’t want you to rush away from your life.”

The look I gave him was nothing short of outraged. “That’s not your call.”

I had stayed in Chicago because I had switched firms eight months ago and my new boss, the partner I worked for, insisted I stay to finish my current case. I’d fought against a settlement with a man who had sued two other companies in the past two years. The lawsuit had settled anyway. If my dad had told me it was more than “a minor setback,” I would have left immediately. Really, it’s what I should have done in the first place. There had been too many times in the past few years where I’d been too busy to return my mother’s call or even answer a text. It chilled me to think she had to have a stroke to get me to look up from my desk.

“How is this supposed to make her feel?” I demanded. “That I’m just now showing up?”

He shrugged. “It’s what she wanted. She’s embarrassed, she’s scared, and she hoped things would go back to normal.”

I squeezed my hands tight. “Does Kate know?”

My sister lived across the country in Portland, was six months pregnant, and had two-year-old twins.

“Your mother didn’t want to worry her.”

Kate was going to hit the roof. The first few days following the stroke, she’d talked to my father at least ten times. He’d convinced her that everything was fine.

“What do you mean by ‘not mobile’?” I asked.

“Her left side is paralyzed. The doctors think she can recover movement, learn to use her body and walk again, but she has to put in the work. She’s depressed, in a way I’ve never seen.”

It was hard to picture, since my mother had always been the most optimistic person on the planet.

My father stared out at the water. “It will be good for her to see you. She seemed a little off before all this happened but wouldn’t talk to me about it.”

“How?” I pressed.

“The week before the stroke, I found her by the edge of the lake, burning a stack of papers. She was crying.”

“What was in the papers?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. We’ve been cleaning out the records closet, transferring old paper records to digital. I’d moved the shredder in there but the closet gets so hot. Your mother decided to burn some of the papers at one of the bonfire rings instead of shredding them, claiming that the heat from the flames cooled her down compared to the heat of the closet. I should have known something was wrong then.”

“It’s not your fault,” I told him.

The limit to our power to stop bad things from happening was a constant conversation in my line of work. The risk management teams that handled a large grocery store chain, for example, had a responsibility to protect their customers. Things happened, though. Same with life. My father couldn’t have prevented this, and I didn’t want him to blame himself.

“When can I see her?” I asked, taking his hand.

“Whenever, now that you know the whole story.” He looked at his watch. “She’s been sleeping a lot, so don’t be surprised if she’s napping when you get there. Just wait it out.”

“How are you going to manage the resort?” I asked. “Without her?”

Before, I’d assumed my mother would help out behind the scenes but now it seemed that the success of the resort rested solely on my father’s shoulders. He couldn’t handle it alone.

“I’ve hired an operations manager,” he said. “He’s slated to arrive tomorrow. Our marketing director plans to take on a stronger role, as will several of our employees.”

The breeze blew, stirring up the mossy scent of the Hut.

“Can Grandpa help?” I suggested.

My grandfather had handed the ownership of the resort to my father nearly a decade ago, when my grandmother died. He didn’t want to run it without her so instead, he opted to travel the world. He was in his early seventies, in good health, and plenty of time had passed. It was possible he’d help out.

“He’s in Ireland right now, on one of those bus tours.” My father took a sip of iced tea. “That’s more his speed at the moment.”

“The resort is a lot, though, and you still have to take care of Mom…”

“There’s a nurse that comes in twice a day, and someone from Physical Therapy.”

I wished I could stay and help out, but there simply wasn’t time. A new case would be waiting for me the moment I got back.

“You have your own life,” my father said, as if reading my mind. “We’re fine, Julie.”

The guilt that squeezed my heart was intense. Not to mention the idea that my family had gotten older, that my home had changed, and I was not ready to accept that.

Out in the center of the lake, a fish jumped, the drops of water from its back sparkling in the sun. It landed, ripples spreading out around it. My father and I sat together until the surface smoothed, then he got to his feet.

“Try to enjoy your time here,” he said. “It’s a far cry from city life but I hope it will do.”

The crush of the concrete and the pressure to work harder pulsed in my mind. That feeling seemed so far from here; from the sweet scent of firewood burning somewhere on the beach, laughter in the distance, and the lazy hum of summer.

“Yeah.” I fought against the catch in my throat. “I think it will do just fine.”

The path that led to my parents’ house crossed through the main area of the resort. It would be bustling with guests from the check-in area, the dining hall, and the water shuttle that transported guests to the golf course across the lake. I was guaranteed to bump into people I knew, either recurring guests or our staff, and I needed a couple of minutes to process all of this privately.

Oh, who am I kidding? I need time to burst into tears.

The thought made my eyes smart and with a clipped pace, I took a path that led deep into the trails of the forest. I didn’t want to cry in front of my mother. It would upset her and, worse, she would offer me support, which was not at all how this should be.

The air became cooler as the canopy of trees thickened above me. Smells changed. Fresh water gave way to the scent of pine and fungi, and even the salt of my skin. The closer I felt to tears, the faster I walked, determined to keep it together until the coast was clear.

Five minutes passed, then ten. Finally, I was so deep into the forest that it was silent, save for the call of an occasional bird, the buzz of the insects, and the sound of my breath. Spotting an old tree that had fallen off to the side of the path, I sank onto its rough trunk and waited to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. The pain remained stuck in my throat and refused to let go.

The gnarled branches above scratched against one another, shifting shadows around me. The back of my neck prickled. I sat as still as possible and listened.

In the city, I was always on high alert but I’d let down my guard, despite having grown up knowing the dangers of the woods. Wood Violet was one hundred and forty acres, and my family had left a large portion of it untouched. Wildlife had the freedom to roam and something as small as a lynx could still be dangerous.

Twigs snapped behind me and I grabbed for a large stick, scattering leaves and dirt. I pivoted to see a brown rabbit race from the underbrush, chased by another. They were playing, probably mother and child. Clearly, the city had set my blood pressure much too high.

Or maybe not.

There was a rustle off to my left, and a thin figure in a dark shirt slipped behind a pine tree. My adrenaline kicked into overdrive.

“Hey,” I shouted, fumbling for my phone. “I’m calling security. They’ll be here in two minutes.”

Not entirely true. The resort’s security terrain vehicles could zip through the trails, but it would take longer than two minutes, assuming I could get reception out here at all.

“Wait!” A teenaged girl rushed out from behind the pine tree. She was thin with dark hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, and she carried a small backpack. “Please don’t call security.”

I lowered my stick, heart still pounding. “Sorry, you startled me. I didn’t expect anyone to be back here.”

It did worry me to think she was in the forest alone. She’d probably dodged family togetherness to drink or smoke, but my mind had clicked over to the liability. If she got attacked by an animal or tripped and broke her leg or encountered an ill-intentioned stranger, the resort would most likely be held responsible for the outcome. Guests had always been welcome to roam free but based on some of the lawsuits I’d seen, it might be time for my parents to issue a warning about walking in the woods alone.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” I told her. “It’s always a good practice to use the buddy system in the woods.”

“The buddy system?” she repeated.

Dropping the stick, I walked towards her, surprised at the hint of mockery in her tone. As I got closer, I realized the girl smelled like she hadn’t showered in a few days. My sister had gone through that phase as a teenager, too, and dirty-hair smell was a sense memory I could live without.

“Do you know how to get back?” I asked.

The girl tossed her hair. “Follow the path. It doesn’t really require GPS.”

“Good point.” I smiled. “Well, I hope you have a nice walk.”

“It will get better when I’m actually walking.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Turning, I took the trails back towards the main area, irritated at her attitude.

I doubted she would have talked to me like that if her parents were present. Well, maybe she would. Wood Violet guests were usually nice but also very privileged. They wanted to do what they wanted when they wanted, and even though I felt she shouldn’t be out here alone, it wouldn’t be a good look if this girl complained that I’d ruined her good time.

It was so funny to slip back into that mindset. I’d grown up worried that I would do or say something to disappoint one of our guests. It helped now, I guess, when it came to dealing with some of our more demanding legal clients.

Tightness filled my chest at the thought of my job. The move to my new firm had been a big step up in terms of money and prestige but it was grueling. The moment my next case started, there wouldn’t be a second to spare. I was hardly unique, most people worked just as hard, but I wished I enjoyed it more.

The sun was bright when I made it out of the forest and onto the main lawn. It was twelve thirty, the time most people were in the dining hall for lunch, so it wasn’t that busy, and I was less likely to bump into a familiar face.

I had just cut across the main area past the fountain when a deep voice called me. “Julie!”

The anonymity had lasted all of ten seconds.

The attractive man waving at me seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. He was tall, with broad shoulders and curly, golden hair. His eyes were bright blue and when he smiled, I knew him in an instant.

“Chase Gibbs,” I said, even though he couldn’t hear me.

The Gibbs family had stayed at the resort every summer for nearly a decade. My sister and I had always liked Chase and his older brother, Garrett, but the summer I turned twelve, Chase and I became something more. He gave me my first kiss and many more to follow, and I was heartbroken when the season ended.

That fall, we’d exchanged a flurry of postcards and earnest letters, and he’d sent me a heart-shaped necklace for Christmas. Yet when the following summer approached, Chase sent news that his parents planned to cruise the Orient rather than visit the resort. They signed him and his brother up for sailing camp, and I hadn’t seen him since.

“Chase!” I headed towards him. We came to a stop on the path and smiled at each other. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

The last time we were together, he was fumbling with the snaps on my bra. It probably wouldn’t be appropriate to open with that memory.

“It’s great to see you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

It was so strange to see the grown-up version of him, since the younger version had taken up so much real estate in my heart. I’d forgotten how his eyes had a subtle downturn that made him look melancholy until he smiled.

“I’m writing a data storage book.” The lake was radiant against the green of the manicured lawn and, gesturing out at it, he grinned. “However, I’m starting to suspect I might be taking a vacation.”

“Writing about data storage doesn’t sound like much of a vacation.”

“You must not read much for pleasure.”

His delivery was so dry that I laughed out loud, something I hadn’t done enough lately.

“So, you went into tech.” I looked up at him, shielding my eyes against the sun. “I would have thought ice-cream would be more your thing.”

His parents had started a hugely popular organic ice-cream company in northern Wisconsin. It was distributed nationally, stocked in high-end shops throughout the Midwest. I’d seen it in Chicago several times over the years and had thought of him.

“Yeah, I’m a part of the company. Just taking a break to work on some passion projects. Because nothing says passion like—”

“Data storage,” we both sang, and laughed.

“It’s good to be back,” he said. “I’ve bumped into so many people from our old crew here.”

“Who have you seen?” I asked.

Back when we were younger, there had been a whole group of kids that came here each summer. We’d spent hours together playing in the lake, doing raft floats, challenging each other on the ropes course… it was great to think that some of them had returned.

“I’ve bumped into Saxon, Leo, and Tilly. Tilly has a whole bunch of kids. Four, I think, but there could easily be fifty based on the noise.”

The names of our old friends were as familiar to me as my own.

“I hope I’ll get to see them. Is your family here?”

“I’m not married.” He looked down at his feet. “That sort of… fell apart.”

“No, I meant your parents and your brother.”

I didn’t want him to think I was prying in his personal life.

“My parents aren’t here.” He hesitated. “My brother died. I guess you hadn’t heard.”

“What?” I said. “No.”

I could see Garrett perfectly in my mind. Tow-headed, laughing, and pulling a bluegill out of the lake. He had always been so full of mischief, so full of life.

“When did he die?” I asked.

“Last fall. Heart attack. It was unexpected.”

I hadn’t seen either of them in twenty years, but the news made me sad. The idea of losing my sister… I couldn’t imagine.

“Chase, I’m so sorry.”

I almost hugged. . .