*
3:00 AM. Kate lay in bed and gazed out the hotel window at downtown Seattle. Tomorrow was the last day of their vacation. They’d be heading back to Boston to resume their lives. Only now there would be a wedding to plan. Funny how the world kept spinning.
She lay awake, waiting for dawn. Her breathing and James’s sounded perfectly synchronous. He’d fallen asleep on his stomach, with his left arm tucked under his pillow so that, in the morning, he’d complain about the tingling sensation in his fingers. Like always. People were nothing if not predictable.
She closed her eyes and saw it again. The twisted burnt body. She could soak her eyes in bleach and it would never go away.
She woke up with a gasp. She hadn’t even been aware of dropping off.
James caught her. He always caught her. “Hey, sweetie. You okay?”
“Scary dream.” She rolled closer to him.
He gathered her to him with tenderness, and they gazed at the city lights. Once in a while, the earth tipped over, and the truth got really ugly. But it could also set you free. The world revealed its colors. And it was shining brightly on the other side.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
SPECIAL THANKS TO:
Titan Books for this bright, new beginning.
My extraordinary agent, Jill Marr, for her exhilarating honesty, wisdom and passion. Thanks, Jill, for getting the best out of me.
My editor at Titan, Miranda Jewess, for her keen eye and meticulous insights.
My Rights Manager, Andrea Cavallaro, for her mad skills.
The exceptional Sandra Dijkstra, and the great team at Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency, including book-whisperer Derek McFadden.
The essential team at Titan Books, including Sam Matthews, Katharine Carroll, Lydia Gittins, and Joanna Harwood.
Doris Jackson, for helping me untangle my past.
Christopher Leland and Peter LaSalle for inspiring me at a critical time in my life.
My father, who taught me how to see the world. I miss you, Dad.
My family for surviving and thriving.
My brother, Carter. Thank you, Super-8 collaborator, you nudged me over the finish line.
My gifted husband, Doug. High hopes on my windowsill. I met you and I lost my will.