Captured Again(The Let Me Go Series)

Chapter 32


Three months later...

Emma heard a siren and looked through her rearview mirror. Shit! Blue lights!

“I wasn’t speeding,” she said aloud to herself. The street wasn’t wide enough here to safely pull over to the side and still allow traffic, so she turned into the next parking lot, rolling her car to a stop in front of a huge, glass, L-shaped building. The patrol car pulled in behind her, his headlights blinding her. Did I roll through the stop sign a block back? Her mind had been on Dusty, and she was in a hurry to get home from work. She couldn’t remember if she’d felt that pull on her seatbelt that Dusty warned her to always wait for, showing she’d come to a complete stop. Maybe I did roll through it? If I get a four-point ticket, that’s gonna sting.


This is so not what I need tonight, Emma thought as she hurried to find her driver’s license and registration. Tonight is supposed to be special, dammit.

As she fumbled trying to slide her license out from the see-through slot in her wallet, she realized this was almost the exact same spot Dusty had arrested her before and delivered her to her first—and hopefully only—night in jail. So much had happened since that night.

After Dusty had rescued her from Gabby’s stalker, Emma had been released immediately from the hospital with just a bump on the head and some scratches and bruises. Dusty had seemed in shock that she actually had a kid and had stayed unusually quiet while he waited with them. He’d waited until Olivia arrived to pick Emma and Rickey up at the hospital, and through Olivia’s long, dark hair and smothered hugs and tears, she’d watched him silently walk away. He’d gone home alone without saying good-bye.

All night, the memory of the night at the restaurant flashed back to stab her, where he’d made it clear what he thought about young girls and their baggage. It dug into her heart like a knife. She’d thought she’d never see him again—at least outside of the class they still had together. But that was a whole weekend away. She’d lain awake in her bed the entire Friday night, with her arms wrapped around Rickey. She’d let him sleep with her that night; neither of them wanted to be alone after their ordeal. She’d cried soundless tears and hushed herself, comforted at least by the still-baby smell of her son’s hair as he slept.

But she’d been wrong. Dusty had been back the next day, acting as if nothing had changed... and the next, and the next. He was still interested in her and seemed fascinated with Rickey. Even with their crazy schedules of college and work, Dusty made an effort to spend time with them nearly every day, even if it was just to say goodnight and help tuck Rickey into bed. Their dates included Rickey from then on, except for the nights Daniel—Rickey’s father—had him.

Rickey had been over the moon when Dusty took him to his first real baseball game—the Charlotte Knights—and was thrilled when Dusty caught a foul ball and handed it straight to him. He’d gone to sleep every night since with that ball pressed up against his pillow.

They were regulars at all the parks in and around town now, and in the evenings, more times than not, they were together, curled up on the couch, watching animated movies or cartoons.

Dusty had help now in teasing Emma, trying to figure out which characters wore her voice. But she’d never tell. At least not until Rickey was old enough to not care about cartoons anymore. She felt like him knowing which characters used his mama’s voice might ruin the magic of cartoons for him.

Rickey adored Dusty—and so did she—but she remained stoic or evasive whenever Dusty brought up anything that had to do with the future... always noncommittal when he mentioned taking Rickey somewhere like the beach or Disney next summer. She’d learned to just smile and mm-hmm and change the subject. She didn’t want to get Rickey’s hopes up, or her own. Dusty didn’t need to hitch his wagon to hers. When he graduated college next month, he’d probably find a girl who he could settle down with and start his own family, maybe eventually have his own babies.

It wasn’t fair for her to expect him to want to settle down with her and Rickey, especially since she had to share Rickey with his dad half the time, and she had no intention of ever changing that. Rickey loved his daddy... even if Emma never had.

So she avoided making plans more than a few days ahead. She didn’t want him to feel tied down to her and Rickey; she didn’t want him to feel obligated. She encouraged Dusty to go out with some of his buddies and have some guy time, hoping he’d meet another girl; although that would break her heart. But it was bound to happen sooner or later, and with Rickey in the picture, sooner was better than later. But Dusty kept coming around.

Soon, he’d run into Daniel picking Rickey up for his weekend and they’d resumed their friendship where it had left off years ago. Emma was glad everyone got along but kept feeling maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to have Dusty around Rickey so much. Rickey would probably take it as hard as she would when the time came for Dusty to move on.

But she couldn’t bring herself to break it off; her heart wouldn’t let her.

Tonight was their three-month dating anniversary, and Daniel was keeping Rickey so she and Dusty could go out to dinner and celebrate. This stop was going to make her late, and she hated to be late. It wasn’t only her pet peeve, but Dusty’s too. They both were notoriously punctual, whether for school, their jobs, or just plans with each other.

She heard a tap at her window and looked over to see an officer’s uniform blocking her view. He wasn’t bending over. She couldn’t see his face. Well, that’s rude, she thought. She pressed the button to roll down her window, halfheartedly apologizing for not having done so already even as the window was still moving.

The officer still stood straight up. All Emma could see was blue uniform. “Officer? Are you going to talk to me?” Emma asked evenly, trying—but failing—to keep the frustration out of her voice. If you’re going to give me a ticket, then just do it and let me go.

Finally, he bent over and leaned into the window. “Yes, miss. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me please.”

Emma smacked him on the arm. “Dusty! You scared me!” she said, laughing. “I thought I’d run the stop sign or something. What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be on duty.”

Dusty gave Emma a serious look. “No, really. You’re going to have to come with me.”

Emma felt a cold chill run down her spine. “What is it? Is it Rickey?”

“Rickey’s fine. Come on. Step back to my vehicle please,” Dusty answered in a clipped voice while pulling Emma’s door open and holding out a hand for her.

Emma’s mind whirled. Relief that Rickey was okay—Dusty wouldn’t lie about that—but who did that leave? Gabby, Jake, Olivia, Nick...? Was there something wrong with someone else? Hadn’t this family been through enough? “Tell me, Dusty. What is it?”

He ignored her as she hurried beside him to the passenger side of the patrol car. He opened the door and she sat down, leaving her feet still planted on the asphalt outside. “What is it, Dusty? Tell me now, please.”

“Get in,” he answered, not meeting her eyes. This must be bad. He won’t even look at me.

Her feet felt like bricks as she pulled them in and turned to sit in the seat. She crossed her arms and wrapped them tightly around her chest. Dusty closed her door and slowly walked around the front of the vehicle to the driver’s side. He got in and closed his door, looking straight ahead, still not meeting Emma’s eyes.

The blue lights were still spinning, reflecting off the glass panes of the building in front of them, duplicating the image to look like she was surrounded by a dozen police cars. The world around Emma seemed surreal. She felt her stomach start to flip and looked at Dusty. He didn’t seem anxious or panicked. She stared at him, waiting.

Finally he turned and looked at her. His face was unreadable.

She gave him a pleading look. “What are you waiting for? Just tell me, Dusty,” she insisted in a quiet voice.

“Just a minute. Let me check the radio.”


He reached over, turning on his police radio, and Emma fumed. For real? He wasn’t even supposed to be on duty tonight. Dammit! Can’t that shit wait? You got me freaking out here, Dusty! she thought. She and Dusty hadn’t ever had a spat, not yet anyway, but it looked like this would be their first. Just as she was about lose her temper and go off on him, a voice broke through on the radio.

“To all oonits... to all oonits, peeze. Mommy? Are you dare?” a little voice squeaked.

Emma quietly exhaled and then looked at Dusty and laughed. Dusty finally smiled back and answered for her. “Mommy has been located and is in custody. Go ahead, Officer Rickey.”

“What is this, Dusty? Is Rickey at the station?” Emma asked, letting her arms uncross and running her hand down her face. She turned in the seat, facing Dusty, and reached for the radio, smiling. She wasn’t worried about Rickey. He was with his dad. But what are they up to?

Dusty waved away her hand. “Shh... listen,” he said, holding a finger up to his lips.

The radio screeched and squawked a few times, as though Rickey didn’t quite know how to use it, and then he came back. “Mommy, you’s been captured! You hav’ta surrender. Officer Dusty, secure the pwisoner!” he yelled too loudly through the radio, making Emma cringe.

Dusty answered him, “Securing the prisoner now, Officer Rickey. Please stand by.”

He pulled a small box from the floor under his feet and turned toward Emma. He opened it, pulling out a ring. The diamond sparkled and glimmered, surrounded by tiny blue sapphires—the color of her eyes. Oh my God, Emma thought as little shivers broke out all over her skin. Her eyes were glued to the ring, her thoughts racing frontward, backward, and sideways. He’s seriously going to ask me to marry him? I gotta get a dress! Omigod, Olivia and Gabby are going to freak out! With school and work and Rickey, when am I going to have time to plan a wedding? She unconsciously leaned away from Dusty and the ring.

“Hey, I see your mind flipping somersaults. Stop. Just think about here and now. Me and you. Are you going to accept this, or are you going to resist?” he asked.

Emma’s eyes filled with tears as Dusty slowly reached for her hand. “I’m not resisting anymore, officer,” she answered around the lump in her throat.

The ring twinkled bright, seeming to compete with the flashing blue lights still swirling around them. Dusty slid it onto her finger and then took both of her hands into his and pulled her to him. “I hope you don’t mind. I wanted Rickey to be a part of this, but I didn’t want him to see this part.”

He put his finger under her chin and tilted her head up. Emma moaned and closed her eyes. She felt lightheaded. He wanted her—them. He wanted the whole package. She felt her pulse race.

She’d held back her heart—and everything else—for months, trying to treat this as a causal relationship because she’d thought if it ever went further than a kiss, even as hot and heavy as their kisses had gotten, he’d not want her anymore. She’d be just another version of that girl again. She hadn’t let herself hope for more. But not now. She believed him now. Dusty really loves me. He loves this girl... He loves me back.

Her lips parted as his lips met hers, as she tried to show him she’d surrendered to him: heart, body, and soul. Their kiss deepened, both of them forgetting Rickey was still waiting.

The radio interrupted with a long screech and a loud tapping noise. “What did Mommy say, Dusty?” Rickey asked.

Dusty reached for the radio, even while his mouth was still pressed hard against Emma’s. He slowly pulled away and answered, “The prisoner hasn’t officially replied, but I have ways of making her talk. I’ll be taking her to lockup tonight. You go with your daddy and have fun, and you’ll see Mommy tomorrow. Over and out.”



“Emma, we don’t have to do this just because I put a ring on it,” Dusty said, even while he pressed up against her on the bed, his leg nudging hers apart so he could squeeze in between.

“Shh. That’s not why... I couldn’t have held out much longer. With or without a ring. I swear, I need you,” she whispered in his ear. Her body was on fire, even after they’d hurriedly shed their clothes, the heat still burning her up. It was coming from the inside, not the outside.

“Then what if I take it back?” he teased. “Would you still need me this much?”

“Take it if that’s what you want. I’m taking what I want right now.”

She grabbed his face with one hand and pressed her lips to his, her tongue sweeping through his teeth. She couldn’t get enough of his taste. Her other hand reached down to cup him firmly. He groaned and bucked against it while kneading one of her breasts with one hand as his other hand dipped down there, rubbing and teasing... making her ready. She wasn’t embarrassed at the heat and the wetness revealing to him she wanted it as much as he did.

He deepened the kiss as her hips arched up, wanting more.

She was glad he’d been in his patrol car. She hadn’t been able to keep her speed steady, in her hurry to get home. Dusty had stayed behind her and flicked his blue lights each time she went five miles over the limit—a warning—and they’d pulled into her parking lot together, barely getting their doors shut before she was in his arms. She’d peeled his uniform shirt off of him just inside the door and there was a trail of clothing leading to her bedroom. His gun belt lay draped over the headboard.

Finally, he was here. In her bed. She couldn’t wait another second.

She tried to take control, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him toward her. But he held back, putting space between them and moving his hand up to touch her belly, then slowly tracing it back down again, rubbing her wetness in a circle with his finger and then drawing it back up toward her belly. She shimmied up, trying to meet his hand. She needed release, however she could get it.

“Tell me you love me, Emma. You haven’t said it yet,” Dusty murmured. He lowered his head and pressed a hot kiss to her breast, circling her nipple with his tongue.

She cried out in a moan, unable to formulate the words he needed to hear.

He continued to nip at her breast, using his teeth to bite gently while she murmured unintelligibly. “What?” he whispered. “I can’t hear you.”

He looked up at her and she saw his eyes had gone darker. The color had burned to a deeper shade of gray—all traces of the gold flecks were gone. He slowly and deliberately sucked on her breast.

She couldn’t watch him anymore. She was barely hanging on. Her eyes rolled up and landed on gun belt hanging just over her head. She moaned again. Another flame of lust sprang to life deep within her, a primal hunger she didn’t know she possessed.

Dusty saw where her eyes went. To the cuffs.

“See something there you want, Emma?” he asked while lazily drawing his wet circles. Emma arched up into his hand and he pulled it away again, playing hard to get.

He reached up and slid the cuffs out. Emma raised her arms up above her, putting her hands together. She had no idea why the thought of being in those cuffs suddenly rocketed her desire, but he didn’t have to ask twice. Her face burned with the heat of embarrassment, but she couldn’t deny what her body was telling her she wanted. She nodded to him as she buried her last shred of modesty.

Dusty towered over her as he straddled her bare body. Emma bit her lip as she tried to hold back. Seeing him sweaty, tousled, and so serious almost sent her over the edge. He snapped the cuffs loosely around her wrists and then slid down until his face was at the center between her legs. She felt the heat of his breath against her. Without even touching her with his mouth, she gasped, rearing up, writhing and pulsing.


He moved quickly, pressing his mouth against her, even as she seemed to try to buck him off, trying to keep her hands over her head, to avoid hitting him with the heavy cuffs. She couldn’t help it; her senses were assaulted as wave after wave rolled through her, leaving her shivering. “Stop,” she begged.

He waited until she stilled and then asked, “Are you ready?”

She shuddered again through heavy-lidded eyes, and nodded.

He slid over her body, barely touching her, until his face was inches from hers. He reached up and grabbed both of her wrists in his one big hand, careful not to hurt her but steadily holding her hands above her head. With his other hand, he guided himself into her, easing in slowly.

Emma tensed. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Dusty felt it and stopped moving his hips, instead lightly brushing kisses across her sweaty brow, waiting. She took in a deep breath and let it out, focusing on trying to relax her muscles. It worked. He started up again, rocking his hips gently and using his free hand to caress her breast, her stomach, her hip... as though he were trying to tame her, calm her.

She felt a rush of desire roll through her again and a renewed need. She’d never hungered for a man like this before. She moved her own hips, matching Dusty’s gentle thrusts with her own until they both seemed to be in a frenzied state, unable to get enough of each other. She bit into his shoulder and he held her firmly against him, nothing moving except the rise and fall of their hips, until they both reached their end, crying out together.

Dusty rolled over to lie on his back, careful to take his weight off of Emma gently. He brought her hands down from above her head and pulled her in closely to his chest with the crook of his arm. With one arm around her, he used the other to rub her wrists.

“You okay?” he asked, rubbing at the faint red marks.

“Yeah. But you can take them off now,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “I surrender, Dust. I love you, too.”





Epilogue:


The Following Spring

The girls crowded around the grave, digging and planting with their hand trowels. Olivia planted bunches of black-eyed Susans while Gabby went behind her, digging small holes in front of the blooms, and Emma followed dropping random seeds of later-blooming flowers, hoping their mom’s grave would always have one type of flower or another in bloom. Rickey was last in line, carefully covering the seeds with the soft dirt Gabby had neatly piled up, then pressing it down again with his stubby fingers.

Their white tank tops stood out against the deep tans of their shoulders, and their matching ponytails pulled their hair high off their backs as they worked together, laughing and talking. Jake and Dusty sat back against a nearby tree in the shade. Their job of loading/unloading was done, their surprise had been revealed, and now they were content to just sit back and watch.

“So what do you call a group of dragonflies, Jake? A brood?” Dusty joked while admiring the girls’ strong, toned muscles working beneath their matching tattoos—well, almost matching—Emma had wanted her mark of freedom to be in the center of her back, different from her mother and twin sisters, whose were on their right shoulders. She had always felt different being so much shorter and born later. So it was her way of embracing the difference instead of hiding it. But the mark was still high enough to be visible with her hair up and a low-back shirt on. Other than that, their marks were all identical to their mother’s: a faint flight trail zipping out from the top of their shirts, dipping and curving untethered across the spread of their bare backs, to land a dazzling scarlet-red dragonfly against their deep tans.

Jake laughed. “I don’t know, Dust. They can be a swarm if you mess with one of ‘em. These girls are survivors,” Jake answered.

Jake looked over at Dusty and punched him lightly on the arm.

“Thanks, man. We did good. The girls loved it. And I know their mama well enough to know she’d love it too. Thanks for your help getting it done,” Jake said.

Dusty knew a guy—an artsy kinda dude—that could put his work onto headstones. Jake had paid for the engraver to come in and add something special to his mother-in-law’s headstone.

The day before, he and Dusty had snuck around, making excuses to the girls, and met him here. They had watched in fascination as the artist had poised over the stone, wearing a gas mask, knee guards, white gloves, and a hood with a clear plastic visor.

With intense concentration, he’d aimed a rod attached to a round metal canister at the face of the gravestone, carefully adding his art around the long inscription. Plumes of red dust had billowed in the air as he worked. When he’d finished, he’d proudly swept away the leftover bits of sand. Their family mark of the dragonfly was now tucked in around the stone’s epigraph.

Dusty and Jake had been excited to surprise the girls and tricked them into coming out today by offering to help them get started on the flower garden for their mom and make a day of it. The girls had packed a picnic and they’d headed to Home Depot, where they’d loaded up both trucks with flowers, seeds, and dirt.

When they’d walked up to their mama’s grave to start their digging, it’d only taken a moment before the gravestone had caught their eyes. They’d dropped their gardening bags and stood hand in hand, letting their tears run unchecked as they stared in awe, touched by what Jake and Dusty had done for her. The guys, keeping a close eye on the girls, awaiting their reaction to the surprise, suddenly seemed to experience an unusual coincidence of dust in eyes and allergy attacks as they’d moved away, shuffling their feet and loitering around, determined to hide their own wet eyes and thick voices.

Rickey had lightened the emotional moment, sending them all off in a contagious round of giggling and laughing, when he’d danced around, pointing to the stone and chanting, “Look, it’s Grandma’s dragonfly... It found her! It found her! Look!”

“Mom would have loved this, guys,” Emma said. She’d looked behind her where both Dusty and Jake had composed themselves but were now clearing throats and mock-coughing. She smiled. “Thank you, from all of us.” They’d both given a solemn nod, still unable to find their voices.



“Olivia, I think you picked the perfect spot,” Gabby said, looking around while waiting for Olivia to finish dropping in the next bunch of flowers. They’d buried Mom in a quaint family cemetery, where the headstones scattered throughout weren’t lined up—looking lost among a sea of others—as some cemeteries were. The families of these loved ones were allowed to do anything they wanted with the plots, some even adding a trellis or a low picket fence, allowing the sweet scented roses and striking purple Clematis to climb in abandon. There were no caretakers or landscapers; it was all kept beautiful and neat by volunteers, and that usually meant the families of the buried.

Rickey’s attention span was short. He was done. He took off running circles around the girls, kicking up dirt, begging them to chase him. Emma shooed him away; they wanted to finish their job today. They were excited to see it done. But Rickey came back, leaning over his mother’s back and clasping his hands together around her neck. He wanted a piggyback ride. “Go, Mommy. Go!”

Emma laughed. “Rickey, go on now. Let me finish this. Go play with Uncle Jake and Dusty.” She encouraged him as she pulled his fingers apart and removed his arms from around her neck. “Go play cowboys and Indians or something.”


Rickey ran off yelling with his hand over his mouth, patting it to make the sound of a wild Indian. He darted around the tree where Dusty and Jake sat and snuck up behind Dusty, wrapping his hands around his neck. “Gotcha!” he whispered, leaning over Dusty’s shoulder.

Dusty dropped his head and played dead.

“Wake up, Dust! You don’t have to play dead jus’ cuz you is captured. You captured Mommy and she didn’t play dead."

Dusty opened one eye to find Rickey inches away, still leaning over his shoulder. "I sure did, little man. And I'm not ever letting her go. You either," he said as he reached around behind him to flip Rickey onto his lap. He nuzzled his chin across Rickey’s head as he tickled his little belly.

Emma watched them from over her shoulder, her face the picture of happiness. She looked down at her left hand, at the dirt caked around her fingers. She spit on her normally shiny and sparkling ring, rubbing it with the bottom of her shirt. She smiled and stuck her hand right back in the dirt, laughing at her own silly happiness. She’d already spit and polished the ring a dozen times since they’d started, but she refused to take it off—or leave it dirty for more than fifteen minutes at a time. The ring was a reminder her that in less than a year, it would be the first day of the rest of her life... her new life with Dusty and Rickey—as a family.

Seeing Emma taking another ring-cleaning break, Gabby chuckled and took a quick break too, just to get off her knees for a few minutes. She’d forgotten her kneeling pad she normally used when planting. She pulled herself up into a squat, swiping her arm across her forehead to wipe away the beaded-up sweat, and then slapped some of the itchy dirt off her knees. She looked at the headstone, now surrounded with the vibrant orange fingers and stoic black eyes of the flowers, looking tall and proud on their green stems, seeming to nod their respect at her mom’s grave.

She gasped and fell back on her bottom. Olivia and Emma looked up from their work.

“What?” Olivia asked.

Gabby pointed at the headstone, unable to speak.

“Yeah, I think we all saw it already, Gab,” Emma said and laughed. Gabby didn’t laugh back. Emma looked at Olivia and then back to Gabby, who was still pointing with her mouth hanging open, and then asked, “Are you okay?”

Gabby looked at both her sisters, then back at the headstone. They can’t see her, she thought. She lowered her hand and her mouth curved into a smile. Her chest swelled and she sucked in a breath. Mom’s here to see me—only me.

Mom seemed to sit down on the gravestone, running her hand across the dragonfly carving. Her face and her soft, caressing touch told Gabby she loved it. She met Gabby’s eyes and smiled back at her. Her lips moved, making a silent message: I’m truly free now, her lips said. I love you.

The wind blew and Gabby gasped again. Mom was fading away, her image scattering along with the petals that had dropped while the girls were planting, but not before Gabby felt an absence. The burden that she’d constantly tried to hide... it was lifted from her soul—the guilt. It was gone. The endless nagging guilt for causing the accident that took Mom away from them. Gabby had still carried it everywhere she went, in every waking moment, unable to shake it. But not now. Mom had come back to take this from her and leave her whole again.

Gabby placed her hand over her heart. Thank you, Mom, the gesture said in silence. Gabby felt this would be the last time she visited. She’d helped save Emma and freed Gabby from her guilt. Her girls were happy and her job here was done.

One wayward petal blew up, the yellow sunlight spotlighting the orange dancer, flittering and floating around to capture Gabby’s eye, beckoning her to follow. The wind twirled it around and around and then gently let it swoop down, landing gracefully on her mother’s stone. Gabby read it again, this time truly believing the message:



Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in the morning hush,

I am the soft, uplifting rush,

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I did not die.

~poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye

The End.





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Olivia will not be ignored! She’s not as quiet as she seems. She’s been nagging for her story to be written, and is currently chattering away in my head directing me as I write Book 3. She’ll have to share the spotlight with Emma—there is a wedding coming up... isn’t there? To hear about the new release and get inside information on any promotional days, take thirty seconds to sign up for the monthly Let Me Go newsletter. You’ll never be spammed or shared, and you can easily unsubscribe at any time with one click.





THANK YOU!


Thank you so much for reading Captured Again, A Let Me Go novel. If you enjoyed this novel, please consider leaving a review at your favorite bookseller’s website and rate this book on GoodReads so others can discover the Let Me Go Series.

Connect on FACEBOOK or Tweet on Twitter! Follow @Akers_LL.





ABOUT THE AUTHOR


L.L. Akers is originally from the Midwest where she grew up climbing trees, haystacks, and haylofts—escaping into other worlds with a good book. She now lives in the South as the silly wife of a serious man and mother of two very gifted and fetching male humans, a chubby beagle that looks astonishingly like a mini-cow, a deranged terrier, as well as five very elegant Koi fish, a herd of tiny but boastful lizards, and dozens of obnoxiously loud but beautiful serenading frogs.

After a career in human resources, she is now pursuing a life as a writer/recluse(?). She’s happy hanging out at home in her PJs with her iPad, Burt’s Bees lip balm, and posse of creatures. Regardless of her self-isolation, she can still be lured outside for brief moments by the scent of freshly mowed grass and a bowl full of cherries. Contact her at [email protected] or Twitter or FACEBOOK.





ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS


I apologize in advance for such a long acknowledgment, but an incredible thing happened to me, and I have 80,000 Facebook users around the world to thank!

While I was writing the first book of this series, I decided to include a brief glimpse of my own life hidden within: in which a young, unwed teenage girl gave her baby up for adoption.

I was that girl. I’ve always longed for my baby boy and finally reached out when he turned eighteen, but his file was closed to me. I continued to call each year, always hoping... Finally, in writing about him in Let Me Go, I opened up the deeply buried memories of his birth, and after that, I was unable to stop thinking of him. I published the book in July 2013. By October 2013, there had been a family spat, in which the subject of his birth came up, and I’d had enough of keeping the secret—as long as it was a secret, I couldn’t get help in finding him.

So I exposed my secret to the world through Facebook. That original post circled the world, was shared 984 times, and seen by 80,000+ people, revealing the secret I’d kept from nearly everyone in my life—even my eleven-year-old son. Instead of being ridiculed or insulted, I was sent encouragement from hundreds of people, publicly and by private message.

To make a long story short, six weeks later, on 11-12-13, I had my son—the one I’d given up almost twenty-six years ago—in my arms again. I wish I was the kind of writer that could let you feel the emotion I felt, finally seeing my long-lost son. I’ve got two words: heart-wrenching & amazing. Truly, it is indescribable for a novice like me. Turns out he wanted and needed me as much as I did him.


I hope you will continue to read this series. If all goes well, I plan to reunite Gabby with her son, too. Maybe by then, I’ll be able to find the words to give the emotions their due and their HEA. If you’d like to be alerted when the next book comes out, click here to enter your email address, no spam or email sharing, and you may easily unsubscribe with one click.

Also, special thanks to my readers of Let Me Go, for encouraging me to forge ahead with this series. Especially to my new close friends who started out as readers of my debut novel: Kim Ronse in Canada, Moni Mobley in Missouri, USA, and Katy Pearce in Australia, my Sister-Survivors. Thanks for the late-night chats and welcoming me into your lives—love you girls!