“No, Jesse,” I said. “No way that story is true. That is just too many coincidences. And you know I hate coincidences. They make no sense, and I hate things that don’t make sense.”
“I hate coincidences, too, Susannah.” Jesse set his jaw, but wouldn’t let me go. He reached out to grasp both my hands in his, the ring box hard as a stone in one of them against my fingers. “And I’m not particularly fond of miracles, either, except the one that brought you to me. But this isn’t a coincidence, and it isn’t a miracle, either. It makes perfect sense. And do you want to know why? My mother wrote about it in her letter. She said she knew someday I might lose faith in our family. She knew how much I disliked Maria, and didn’t want to marry her, let alone be a rancher for a living instead of a doctor.
“But she also said that she knew the one thing I’d never lose faith in was the church. That’s the other reason she left the ring—-and the letter—-with the priest. She said I may have stopped speaking to my family, but I’d never stop speaking to God, and that though I might never come home to her, I’d come back to the church someday. And when I did, I’d find her letter—-and the ring. And she was right, Susannah. I never lost my faith. And through it, I met you.”
My eyes stung. “Jesse,” I said, though my throat was clogged suddenly with so much emotion I could hardly speak. “That’s not—-come on. That’s not how this happened. I mean, eBay.”
His grip on my fingers tightened. A dozen yards away, the Pacific kept up its rhythmic roar, and above us, the stars burned down in a night sky that was as cloudless as if Mark’s storm for Jasmin had never happened at all.
“Let me finish,” he said, his hands warm on mine. “After more than one hundred and fifty years of living alone in the darkness, I met you, Susannah, and through you, I met Father Dominic. Everything my mother said in her letter came true. It wasn’t the same church, and it wasn’t the same priest. But the letter and the ring were there, all because of you. And now I want to give that ring to you.” He opened the ring box and dropped down to one knee before me in the sand. “So will you, Susannah Simon, kindly do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Tears were streaming so thickly from my eyes that I could hardly see. The wind and salt spray whipping my hair across my face weren’t helping much, either. I seemed to have picked the worst possible place in the world for a marriage proposal.
And yet, suddenly, I felt like the luckiest girl alive.
I sank down into the sand beside him.
“Yes, Jesse de Silva,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. “I will.”
You saw the proposal . . . now don’t miss the wedding!
Suze and Jesse finally tie the knot in . . .
REMEMBRANCE
A Mediator Novel
Coming February 2, 2016!
Read on for a sneak peek and preorder it today!
You can take the boy out of the darkness. But you can’t take the darkness out of the boy.
All Susannah Simon wants is to make a good impression at her first job since graduating from college (and since becoming engaged to Dr. Jesse de Silva). But when she’s hired as a guidance counselor at her alma mater, she stumbles across a decade--old murder, and soon ancient history isn’t all that’s coming back to haunt her. Old ghosts as well as new ones are coming out of the woodwork, some to test her, some to vex her, and it isn’t only because she’s a mediator, gifted with second sight.
What happens when old ghosts come back to haunt you? If you’re a mediator, you might have to kick a little ass.
From a sophomore haunted by the murderous specter of a child, to ghosts of a very different kind—-including Paul Slater, Suze’s ex, who shows up to make a bargain Suze is certain must have come from the Devil himself—- Suze isn’t sure she’ll make it through the semester, let alone to her wedding night. Suze is used to striking first and asking questions later. But what happens when ghosts from her past—-including one she found nearly impossible to resist—-strike first?
Uno
IT STARTED WHILE I was in the middle of an extremely heated online battle over a pair of black leather platform boots. That’s when a chime sounded on my desktop, letting me know I’d received an e-mail.
Ordinarily I’d have ignored it, since my need for a pair of stylish yet functional boots was at an all-time high. My last ones had met with an unfortunate accident when I was mediating a particularly stubborn NCDP (Non-Compliant Deceased Person) down at the Carmel marina, and both of us had ended up in the water.