Moments We Forget Read online

  Praise for Beth K. Vogt

  “Vogt is paving a way for herself in the world of women’s fiction. The Thatcher sisters deal with real issues and, despite their trials, find love and friendship in the midst. The ending of Moments We Forget will leave readers delighted.”

  RACHEL HAUCK, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  “In Moments We Forget, Vogt again proves she’s a master at peeling back the layers while gently navigating the dynamics of faith, family, and sisterhood. This book challenges the tough, the real, and the exquisite journey that is the life we live—shining a spotlight on the hope we cling to when all points don’t line up the way we’d first planned. I was at once encouraged and soon blown away by this book!”

  KRISTY CAMBRON, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE LOST CASTLE AND THE BUTTERFLY AND THE VIOLIN

  “Delightful to spend time with the Thatcher sisters once again! Jillian shares her vulnerability and growth in completely relatable ways. We feel like part of the family and cheer as Jillian, Johanna, and Payton find their way back to each other.”

  KATHERINE REAY, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE AUSTEN ESCAPE AND A PORTRAIT OF EMILY PRICE

  “In Moments We Forget, Beth Vogt tackles the topics of childlessness, infidelity, and faith, weaving them with sensitivity and grace into a gripping novel that’s impossible to put down. Fans of family dramas won’t want to miss this one!”

  CARLA LAUREANO, RITA AWARD–WINNING AUTHOR OF BRUNCH AT BITTERSWEET CAFÉ

  “With deftness of pen and intuitive sensitivity to such tender issues as family tension, sibling conflict, and infertility, Beth Vogt brings yet another beautiful story of redemption in the midst of pain to her readers. An emotional, captivating continuation of the Thatcher sisters’ story, sure to satisfy readers longing for this sequel. Bravo!”

  AMY SORRELLS, AWARD–WINNING AUTHOR OF BEFORE I SAW YOU AND LEAD ME HOME

  “It’s rare when a second novel in a series surpasses the first, but Moments We Forget is just such a book. This continuing story of the Thatcher sisters is rich in emotion as the sisters explore issues of family and faith, find healing for troubled relationships, and forge exciting new ones. I can’t wait for the next novel in the series!”

  DEBORAH RANEY, AUTHOR OF THE CHANDLER SISTERS NOVELS AND A VOW TO CHERISH

  “What a delight to catch up with the Thatcher sisters in this second installment of Beth Vogt’s series. I so appreciate the authenticity of the way the Thatcher family is portrayed and I especially enjoyed getting a little more insight into oldest sister, Johanna. Handled with grace and threaded with poignancy, Moments We Forget weaves through the many layers of relationships to get to the heart of what it means to be a family.”

  MELISSA TAGG, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE WALKER FAMILY SERIES AND THE ENCHANTED CHRISTMAS COLLECTION

  “Beth Vogt is a writer who sees deeply into people and relationships, and that insight translates beautifully into her novels.”

  CARA PUTNAM, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF SHADOWED BY GRACE AND BEYOND JUSTICE

  “Moments We Forget is a beautiful exploration of the often-complicated and messy relationships between sisters. Vogt skillfully weaves a tale infused with tender truth-filled moments, gentle grace, and the hope and healing found through faith.”

  CATHERINE WEST, AUTHOR OF WHERE HOPE BEGINS

  “Written with her characteristic depth, Vogt’s Moments We Forget explores the sometimes-unpleasant realities of the world, but still manages to leave the reader with beautiful hope. By the end, the characters were friends. I wanted to sit beside them, cry with them, and wrap my arms around them as they wrestled through questions everyone must ask at some point in life. Vogt’s books have always belonged at the top of my must-read list, and Moments We Forget is no exception.”

  LINDSAY HARREL, AUTHOR OF THE SECRETS OF PAPER AND INK

  “Beth Vogt writes with honest warmth, with a true understanding of her characters. What excellent weaving of stories. I never want to stop reading her novels!”

  HANNAH ALEXANDER, AUTHOR OF THE HALLOWED HALLS SERIES

  “With her latest book, Moments We Forget, author Beth K. Vogt has put me in a dilemma. The story is so compelling that I want to devour it in one setting. Yet it’s so incredibly well written I want to savor every word. Vogt is truly a master storyteller and now every book is automatically on the top of my must-read list.”

  EDIE MELSON, DIRECTOR OF THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS CHRISTIAN WRITERS CONFERENCE

  “With tenderness and skill, Beth Vogt examines the price of secrets, the weight of tragic loss, and the soul-deep poison of things left unsaid.”

  LISA WINGATE, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF BEFORE WE WERE YOURS, ON THINGS I NEVER TOLD YOU

  “Once again Vogt’s beautiful writing captures the struggles and hopes of her broken characters, this time with a cast of sisters who find themselves forced to confront their pasts, their fears, and the healing power of forgiveness. Powerful, moving, and redemptive. Everything I hope for in a Beth Vogt novel.”

  SUSAN MAY WARREN, USA TODAY BESTSELLING, CHRISTY AWARD–WINNING AUTHOR, ON THINGS I NEVER TOLD YOU

  “Questions, regrets, and memories hang over all our lives. Things I Never Told You authentically explores past and present hurts in a way that will take readers deeper into the heart. Beth’s story will give real hope to anyone struggling with fractured relationships.”

  CHRIS FABRY, CHRISTY AWARD–WINNING AUTHOR OF DOGWOOD AND THE PROMISE OF JESSE WOODS

  Visit Tyndale online at www.tyndale.com.

  Visit Beth K. Vogt’s website at www.bethvogt.com.

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

  Moments We Forget

  Copyright © 2019 by Beth K. Vogt. All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph of woman copyright © Stephanie Hulthen. All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph of background light by Alain d’Alché/Unsplash.com. All rights reserved.

  Designed by Julie Chen

  Edited by Sarah Mason Rische

  Published in association with the literary agency of Books & Such Literary Management, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409.

  Moments We Forget is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Tyndale House Publishers at [email protected], or call 1-800-323-9400.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Vogt, Beth K., author.

  Title: Moments we forget / Beth K. Vogt.

  Description: Carol Stream, Illinois : Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., [2019] | Series: A Thatcher sisters novel

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018047778| ISBN 9781496427281 (hc) | ISBN 9781496427298 (sc)

  Subjects: LCSH: Sisters—Fiction. | Domestic fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3622.O362 M66 2019 | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018047778

  Build: 2019-03-25 13:42:30 EPUB 3.0

  “A sister is both your mirror—and your opposite.”

  ELIZABETH FISHEL (1950-) JOURNALIST & AUTHOR

  Moments We Forget is dedicated to all sisters who struggle in their relationships with one another. Who fight to find their place between “me” and “us.” No sister relationship is perfect. And some sister relationships are bound in pain. But even then, there can still be love.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Ch
apter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Preview of Things I Never Told You

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discussion Questions

  I HAD HALF AN HOUR, no more than that, to get my life in order so my sisters would never suspect how unprepared I was for this morning.

  I kicked the back door shut, dumping the plastic grocery bags onto the kitchen counter, easing the ache in my arms. If Johanna were hosting this morning, she’d have something homemade baking in her oven, the appealing aroma filling her immaculate kitchen.

  Well, one thing was for certain—I was not Johanna.

  Winston’s frantic barks sounded from upstairs. Seconds later, he was scampering around my feet, his sudden appearance meaning I’d forgotten to lock him in his kennel. Again.

  “Bad dog.” A halfhearted reprimand. “You’re not supposed to be down here.”

  I pulled items from the plastic bags. Please don’t let me have forgotten anything during my mad dash through the grocery store.

  Cream for Johanna’s and my coffee—although she was going to have to make do with my Keurig coffeemaker, not French press.

  A small box of sugar so Payton could enjoy her coffee with the preferred three heaping spoonfuls per cup.

  A premade fruit salad.

  Blueberry muffins.

  Keurig pods.

  Nothing fancy. But at least I wouldn’t look like a complete failure.

  I suppose to a casual observer, Johanna, Payton, and I—the three remaining Thatcher sisters—appeared successful. And yet, while we might claim certain professional and romantic achievements, we still struggled to find our way as sisters.

  At times Pepper’s words—the ones Payton had shared with Johanna and me several months ago—seemed more of a taunt than an encouragement.

  “Sometimes you just have to forget all the other stuff and remember we’re sisters.”

  Shouldn’t a role you acquired at birth be simple? Something you learned to do, along with walking and talking and navigating adolescence?

  But then Pepper’s death at sixteen splintered our already-precarious bonds.

  I selected three mugs from a kitchen cupboard. This was no time to try to unravel the complicated dynamics between me, Johanna, and Payton—not when they’d be here any minute. And not with so much riding on this morning.

  It’s funny how much hope people put into a cup of coffee.

  Social media—Facebook and Instagram and Twitter and Pinterest and even millions of people’s text messages around the world—overflow daily with memes and GIFs lauding the miracle qualities of coffee.

  Coffee is the gasoline of life.

  All I need is coffee and mascara.

  Behind every successful person is a substantial amount of coffee.

  I drink coffee for your protection.

  Drink coffee and do good.

  And now . . . now coffee would be the glue that bonded the three of us together.

  Coffee and a book, if Payton’s latest “we should do this!” idea succeeded.

  Despite our determination to try to be better sisters—to overcome the damage to our relationships caused by Pepper’s death . . . and secrets . . . and not knowing how to even relax with one another—it was all too easy to succumb to a lifetime of bad habits.

  Of course, I knew my given position in the Thatcher sisters, volunteering to have our first Saturday morning book club meeting at my house. There were times I doubted that I’d ever get my “Is everybody happy?” theme song out of my head.

  It didn’t matter that I had a full-time job. That I battled unrelenting fatigue. That Geoff and I were starting renovations on our house next week. I laughed and brushed off their multiple “We can do this, Jillian,” offers with lighthearted responses of “I’m good. Really. This isn’t a problem at all.”

  And then I’d resorted to a last-minute trip to the grocery store for premade options for this morning’s breakfast.

  “A girl has to do what a girl has to do” was fast becoming my mantra. Only I was doing less and less and hoping to get by.

  Winston scratched at the back door leading from the kitchen to the yard, distracting me from my musings on the power of caffeine mixed with a heavy dose of self-doubt.

  I bent down and ruffled his white ears before opening the door. “Sorry to leave you sitting there.”

  He ran off along the chain-link fence, barking at a squirrel or a bird. No, wait. That was our next-door neighbor, Gianna, out with her toddler.

  “Good morning. Sorry about the barking.” I stepped outside, snapping my fingers. “Hush, Winston!”

  “It doesn’t ever bother us.” Her daughter knelt, reaching through the fence. “Oh, don’t do that, Avery!”

  I grabbed Winston’s collar, tugging him back beside me. “He won’t bite, but he is a nonstop licker.”

  “We’ve talked about getting a dog, but right now my hands are full trying to keep up with a two-year-old.”

  “I can imagine. But she’s a cute handful.” I checked my watch. Almost nine o’clock. Johanna and Payton would be here anytime now. “I’m sorry. I need to go. My sisters are coming over this morning.”

  “How fun. I wish I had a sister.” Gianna took Avery’s hand, helping her stand and brushing off the knees of her jeans. “And I need to try and tire this one out so she’ll take a nap for me later.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  She tossed a wave over her shoulder. “See you later. Come on, Avery.”

  I released Winston. “Gianna—”

  “Yes?”

  “I did mention Geoff and I are renovating our kitchen, right?”

  My neighbor kept a firm grip on her daughter’s hand, despite Avery’s attempts to squirm loose. “I noticed the huge dumpster in your driveway—a pretty big clue—and you also said you were thinking about it earlier this summer.”

  “I guess that thing is hard to miss.” Winston sniffed around my feet. “I just wanted to warn you there’ll be workmen around during the day, but most of the noise will be inside the house. A friend is acting as our project manager, and he knows all the workers.”

  “Great. Thanks for letting me know.”

  A knock at the front door as I entered the house signaled the arrival of one sister—most likely Johanna, who was always early.

  She greeted me with a quick hug, setting her leather purse and her book on the small oak table Geoff and I kept by the front door. At least she’d brought her copy of the book we’d chosen. The question was, had she read it?

  “Good to see you, Joey. How are you?”

  “Tired.” Johanna slipped off her leather sandals, looking trim in black capris and a red flowing top with cutout shoulders. “Between my work and Beckett’s schedule at the Air Force Academy, life’s crazy.”

  “Still, it must be nice having him in the same state at least.”

  “He might as well have kept his original assignment in Alabama. The superintendent at the academy keeps him so busy dealing with speeches and briefings and I don’t know what else, we barely see each other.”

  “But you see him more than you did when he lived in another state, right?” And not seeing each other was the norm for Beckett and Johanna.

  “I’m not k
eeping track of hours and minutes.”

  “One thing I know is you and Beckett can do this. You’ve managed a long-distance relationship for years, which means you can manage crazy hours with both of you living in the same town. I remember how excited you both were the weekend he drove into the Springs.”

  “You’re right, Jilly. I’m still getting used to this new phase. It was so sudden.”

  “Why don’t you go make a cup of coffee? I apologize that it’s from a plastic pod and not your preferred French press. But I do have cream . . .” Had I taken the time to put it in the fridge? Payton pulled up in front of the house as I started to close the door. “I’ll wait here for Payton.”

  “Sounds good.” My oldest sister disappeared in a light cloud of her Coco perfume.

  Payton released her long auburn hair from its ponytail as she half ran up the sidewalk. “Hey!”

  “No need to run—you’re not late.”

  “I lost track of time.” She shook her head, strands falling around her shoulders.

  “Well, come on in.” We shared a quick hug. “Do you want coffee or water?”

  “Both sound great. I’m dehydrated and undercaffeinated—a bad combination, especially if I want to get along with Johanna this morning.”

  “Don’t start.” I resisted the urge to shake my finger at Payton.

  “It was a joke.”

  In the kitchen, Johanna had arranged the fresh-from-a-plastic-container muffins onto a plate. The premade fruit salad now sat on the counter in a white ceramic bowl.

  “Thanks.” I retrieved a serving spoon from the drawer. “I could have done that.”

  “I figured I would make myself useful while I waited for my coffee.” She gave Payton a slow once-over. “Did you just come from the gym?”

  “Technically, yes, but I was coaching, not working out. I met one of my JV girls for a private lesson. She wanted to work on blocking.” She raised both hands, waving aside her explanation. “Sorry if you’re offended, big sister. I couldn’t shower if I wanted to be here close to on time.”

  Johanna hadn’t commented on my casual attire of relaxed jeans and a navy-blue Broncos T-shirt—a well-loved gift from Dad. But Johanna and Payton would find something to bicker about even if they’d taken a vow of silence. And me? I would always be the designated driver of the emotional vehicle that carried our merry little trio.