Excerpt from The Last Secret by Mary McGarry Morris, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Eleven when her father died. Her mother, by necessity, stern, a schoolteacher who, after having raised her older daughter Carol to a college-educated, newly wed nurse, was bewildered by this younger child's moody volatility.

One day after work Eddie came by to say he was going. L.A. They couldn't hold the job much longer. Did she want to come? Yes or no. Time was running out. He had another one of his terrible headaches. She called from the road, cringing as her mother demanded to speak with this Eddie she'd never even heard of, much less met. Smiling, he took the phone and apologized for their abrupt departure, but she could rest assured her daughter was in safe hands.

"I love her, Mrs. Trimble. And I'm going to take care of her. Always.

I promise. All we want is your blessing."

"My blessing!" her mother shrieked across the line. "My blessing! All you'll get from me is a warrant for your arrest!"

Watching a baseball game at the end of the bar, the bartender hunches close to the snowy black-and-white TV screen. Another quarter. That song again. Eddie's song. Red lights flash on his face. Her stomach lurches, oniony bile searing her throat. Her sweaty thighs stick to the brittle plastic. Eddie's arm falls, heavy on her shoulders. His tongue drags over her ear. She can't believe what he wants. Turning from the table, the man watches with a wet, imploring grin.

"Like a joke. You'll see. C'mere. Feel. Feel, can you feel that?"

Eddie asks, pressing against her leg. "You know where that belongs. You know. You know . . ." His moan burns her ear. "Just a little, that's all, to get us outta here."

"No . . . no," she whispers, curling her neck away from his face. It takes all her effort.

"Look at him." With Eddie's contemptuous gesture, the leering man waves. "Flashing that roll, just begging for it, and us hungry. Come on. L.A., that's all."

"No."

"Just get him outside, that's all I ask."

"No. No, Eddie!"

They'll be doing the drunk a favor, Eddie says, smiling. The man tries to wink back, instead both eyes close. "His money's gonna be a whole lot better spent feeding us than on that."

"I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't." She is crying again.

Eddie shades his eyes. "Jesus Christ! Will you cut that out!" Clenched jaw. Squinting. It's the flashing lights. His headaches scare her.

"I can't help it." She blows her nose in a stiff cocktail napkin. "I'm sorry!"

"Just get him outside."

She shakes her head.

"In my car. Front seat."

"No!"

He squeezes her wrist against his chest. "Tell you what then, I'm walking out that door, and you either come out with the asshole and we're on our way in two minutes, or stay here." He leans close. "For all the fuck I care!" He storms out.

"Eddie!"

The closing door, her flesh ripping from the stool, the grinning man, clutching his suit jacket, staggering her way. "You pretty . . . pretty . . . ," he stammers, reaching for her. "You pretty thing, you . . ." "No. Don't." Ashamed, she doesn't want the bartender to hear. She gets the door open. "I'm leaving. I have to go. You stay here. Don't come out." She can't pull free. His fingers dig into her arm. "He's out here! Don't." She pushes him. In the parking lot their scuffling feet scrape a dead echo through the desert stillness. She shoves him away.

"Go back in! Please!"

Excerpted from The Last Secret by Mary McGarry Morris Copyright © 2009 by Mary McGarry Morris. Excerpted by permission of Shaye Areheart Books, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.