No.
Very carefully, very purposefully, he sweeps his beautiful black bangs from his face and tucks them behind his ear in a characteristic trait that makes the storm in my veins stand still. He tips his head and the light glints off a long gash running down the back of his neck.
It can’t be.
Suddenly my breath is reeling and my heart is choking out of my chest and my mind is screaming no no no no no—this can’t be.
He leans in and tucks a swag of my hair behind my ear. And whispers, “I told you that you couldn’t save them both.”
MY POCKETFUL OF THANK-YOUS
IN SOME WAYS I FEEL I’VE BEEN WRITING THIS PAGE my whole life. Gathering up my thank-yous like a pocketful of flower petals, reflecting on the journey and the generosity of those who’ve traveled with me. Who’ve allowed me to travel with them. Yet, when I actually sit down to type these letters, these names—to lay my thank-yous out in a daisy-chain mosaic so you’ll each understand exactly what you mean to me—drat it all if the words don’t fail, and instead tears fall. Thus this page comes stained with tear drips and blood spatters, markers showing just how deeply you’ve engraved your name on my world. Thank you, my fellowship of friends:
Allen Arnold, shepherd, big brother, tallest dwarf dude I know—for stepping into my Story and changing it forever. And for continuing to mentor me by living a Story of heart.
Amanda Bostic, treasured kindred spirit and Thomas Nelson editor, for inviting me to tea and then offering an adventure from which I’ll never recover. And sweet Becky Monds, Thomas Nelson editor and friend, for bringing your literary magic and laughter to the journey.
My dear agent, Lee Hough, for quieting the room long enough to listen to the roar of this scared girl’s heart. And then standing to roar with her. We did it. And to my agent, Andrea Heinecke, for picking up the mantle and adding your brilliance. And for being my friend.
Daisy Hutton, Laura Dickerson, Jodi Hughes, Ansley Boatman, Katie Bond, and my entire Thomas Nelson family, thank you for taking a chance and helping me fly. There aren’t enough gratitude cupcakes in the world. Kristen Vasgaard, for creating a cover that made me cry. Julee Schwarzburg, editing genius—for making me laugh and my words make sense.
Jeanette Morris, cherished mentor, editor, precious friend. For always helping me find my voice—in my writing and, even more so, in my soul. And dear Nancy Rue—my Obi Wan, for holding my hand every time it shook and my heart when I cried. This book has your ladies’ fingerprints all over it, as do my wings.
Word Divas, for the word shaping and courage. Sarah Kathleen, for capturing soul with your beautiful spirit and photo lens. Garth Jantzen, website genius, for believing in me from the first. Several Guys, for the video that rocked my world. SLO Nightwriters. Diane Ramirez. And my blogger friends who’ve laughed with me through the years—Danielle, Juju, Jade, Anne, Tania, Rob, Sara, Kristen, Brittney, Steph, Becca.
Jay and JM Asher, Lori and Will, Dani, the Morrells, and to every one of my friends for making a place for me at your friendship table and sharing your strength and food and laughter.
My Father’s House family and the RISE. You have my heart. You are my home.
Dad and Mom, for addicting me to books and adventure. You are the biggest heroes in my world. Mom, thank you for teaching me to write and dream. Dad, for believing in my dreams and for bringing Storm Siren to life through your beautiful maps and airship art. Also, my siblings David, Jon, James, Daniel, and your families, and to the entire Weber clan. I adore you.
My sister, Katherine Ayers, without whom this story (and my sanity) would not exist. Here’s to you, dear Ariel-singing girl.
My three precious muses, Rilian, Avalon, and Korbin—the moments written in these pages are yours. Made up of your beauty and bravery. They are your “over the rainbow” songs.
Peter, my love, you truly have bewitched me body and soul, and anchored me in the storms. Thank you for risking the world with me and blazing a path to the moon. I love you.
Jesus. Because you are all this heart exists for.
READING GROUP GUIDE
1. Nym has a genuine desire to help others, especially the mistreated. However, fear that she will do more harm than good often holds her back. Can you relate to this dilemma? Do you ever duck away from helping others because you feel unqualified or worry that you won’t be able to do it “perfectly”?