![]() Journalism was a marketable skill.Ī springboard, she’d told herself. If the stories were a star in the sky, Jenna had been tracking that star her entire life. “Thank you, Cassie, for that astute observation. “Unless your goal is to end up stranded on the interstate in the middle of nowhere-which is fine if you’re going for horror, but not really your style-you need to put gas in the car, Mom.” They named her Sarah, their second born.īut Cassie wasn’t her sister, or her mother, and never would be.Īccepting that made it easier for Jenna to appreciate and celebrate the daughter she did have. What had become of the daughter Jenna always thought she’d have? The shy, studious girl who would hide when visitors came? The child who would pull the bottom drawer out of her dresser, dump out the contents, and snuggle into her self-made nest with a pillow and a picture book? Was it possible the child had been switched in the hospital? Had some sly nurse slid into her room while she dozed and slipped a changeling into her arms, then snuck away into the night with her real daughter? ![]() Tangible evidence my DNA runs somewhere through this kid. The fantastical, sweeping stories that had begun before Cassie could even write them. The stories were the flickering light of a lone star in an inky-blue sky. Jenna’s eyes had searched her daughter out as she introduced herself to a little boy, the two of them launching into an animated discussion about whatever pressing matters five-year-olds discuss.īut Cassie never looks back, Jenna thought as she stood in the doorway waiting to wave goodbye to a child who’d forgotten she was there. “Your job now is to be there when they look back.” “They spend their whole lives walking away from you,” the kindergarten teacher had said on her little girl’s first day. Just not one I intend to discuss with you, thank you very much.Īs Cassie had grown, Jenna had slowly but inevitably discovered that this child, her child, wasn’t an extension of herself. Her breath quickened, her anxiety cranking up at the badgering. Wandering aimlessly with no apparent destination isn’t going to cut it.” “Where are we going anyway? Do you have the faintest idea?” “I know, love,” she’d whispered to the little life in her arms. Her laughter blended with Cassie’s cries, their voices rising together. They’d fought valiantly, shedding blood and coming up victorious on the other side. Warriors in battle the two of them were, she and her brave, howling daughter. When the nurse had laid Cassie in her arms, Jenna had laughed, wide and openmouthed. Who knew that was intended as a life lesson? Just like the nurses told you during childbirth. Jenna clenched her jaw and bit back a retort. “Opening a book with the main character driving a car is a cliché, by the way.” In the span of silence that followed, Jenna hoped her eldest daughter had let it go. ![]() “Beckett doesn’t like him,” Cassie said, as if that were the final judgment of the universe. Given enough time, it could take down mountains. It wore on Jenna like sand against stone. Especially their creeper son.”Įach word dripped with teenage derision. This isn’t a novel, and the Davises aren’t strangers.” Abandoning the dog with strangers? Not so much.” “The first rule of writing: make your protagonist relatable. You know I did.” An undertow of weariness dragged at her limbs. Jenna kept her eyes on the road, wheels between the lines. “You didn’t have to leave the dog behind.” I see you there, and I love you all the best. If you’re so inclined, there’s a link to pre-order included at the end of the excerpt, with many thanks and an appreciative salute from Texas. The first chapter of my latest book, due to be released by Lake Union Publishing on May 29, 2018. So without further ado, I’ll leave this here. Most of all-if we’ve done our jobs well-it’s your heart. See, we know it’s not just the cost of a cup of coffee. I can say with certainty however, there’s not a writer anywhere who isn’t forever grateful for every single reader who’s taken a chance on them. Most of the ones I’ve met are modest by nature, but due to the state of things (bills, yo) also need to be out hawking their wares. ![]() Y’all are gonna get tired of me popping up, waving this book at you. ![]()
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