A grumble of thunder rolled over the hills outside, heading toward town, and as a small flicker of lightning brightened the gloomy day for a split second, Ali leaned forward, squinting to see through the rain. Out there, with the sloped backdrop of the forest and the foggy blurriness of cold rising off wet snow, Ali thought she saw a woman. Dark red coat. Black umbrella. Looking up at the naked trees.
She drew a small breath to call for Sam but the woman turned, eyes meeting over the distance between them. It was hard to tell what was real or imagined sometimes, but Ali knew in her heart that the woman standing out there in the rain was Sarah.
The ghost offered a smile and waved, and as Ali lifted her hand to say good-bye, Sarah Harvey took one small step and vanished into nothing.
An entire body of tight bumps washed over Ali’s skin. She let out the breath she’d been holding in a little gasp when Sam came up behind her, trying hard to shake it off. But she knew what this meant. She knew Sarah was in a place of peace now, and from this day on, the ghosts of Sam’s past would no longer haunt either of them.
Sam held her tight as she turned to thank him for all he’d done, but he didn’t mention the woman that had been standing outside in the rain just now. Ali could only imagine he hadn’t seen it. That, perhaps, he’d moved on in his heart enough now that he didn’t need a good-bye; that Sarah knew he’d be okay without her, because he’d been left in good hands.
Epilogue
“What do you think?” Ali said, lifting little Luke up in his Jack Skellington costume.
Sam laughed, handing Sarah over in her Sally costume, her floppy, barely month-old head tipping awkwardly for a moment. “I think we have a perfect pair,” he mused. “Let’s lay them in the crib together and get a picture.”
“Okay, go grab the camera,” Ali said, leaving Luke on the table for a moment—strapped in with the harness—while she turned to place Sarah in the crib. She picked up Luke next and kissed his little head, laying him down beside his sister.
With the big old tree no longer outside the window—the tree she had spent hours looking at as she once sat there writing—more sunlight filled the space. The orange glow of autumn seemed to suit the theme they'd chosen for the twins when they did up the nursery. Baby Pooh Bear and Tigger left happy trails and honey pots all around the room, while the butterfly and bee curtains in autumn colors always kept the twins fascinated as Ali changed their diapers under the window. Sam had gone a little crazy buying everything for two, including two rocking chairs so they could both feed the twins at night, but she understood why, and had stood back to let him go wild.
He was in his element when he was with the kids, and even decided to be a stay-at-home dad while she finished her next bestseller. These kids would never want for anything: not for love, money, toys, tangible or intangible things. They had a house they would grow up in, a mom and dad to be there for them, and an entire town that stopped to chat with them every time they went for a walk. Ali knew there wasn't a better place in this entire world to bring up her children, and even though she sometimes felt the presence of unseen things in this old house, sometimes heard doors move by themselves or swore she saw the chairs rocking when no one was in them, nothing had presented itself enough to cause her any concern. If there were spirits in this house, it was probably only old Mrs. Denver, who passed shortly after she sold them the house. Her family had tried to fight in court to buy it back, but the agreement was ironclad and they left empty-handed. This house was Ali and Sam’s, ghosts and all.
“Mel just pulled up,” Sam said, handing Ali the Polaroid camera. “I’ll go help her with the cake and we’ll meet you out front for the party?”
“Okay.”
“Are you okay to bring both kids down by yourself?”
Ali gave him a raised brow to answer, and he nodded, ashamed of himself for even asking that. “See you in a minute then.”
“Yep. Be there soon,” she said, fixing Sarah’s mop of woolen costume hair. She snapped a few photos, waiting between each one for the twins to get their sight back after the bright flash went off, and laid each picture on the dresser.
When she was done, Ali lifted each precious jewel up in her arms and kissed their heads, breathing in their baby smell. Since they were born, she’d had little time to take a moment and breathe—to think about what it would mean to be a mom—but for the first time in a long time, as she looked at the leaves carpeting the ground outside, she remembered the fairies made of twigs and leaves, and smiled.
Even though her own father and mother, and Sam’s mother, would never be here to see the twins, or play with them or tell them stories, in those simple traditions they would pass down to the kids, it felt like they were standing in the room.
As Ali headed downstairs for the Hamilton Street party, she left the pictures up on the dresser with the camera beside them, completely unaware of how right she was. They wouldn’t see it until they returned later that night and laid the twins down to sleep, but there, in plain sight among the blurs and shadows behind the twins, were the echoes of those that had passed.
Watching over them.
Always.
Acknowledgments
First of all, I’d like to thank my beta team—all the new girls, the old ones, and even the ones that didn’t get a chance to read this time around due to life commitments. You’re all great human beings, and I love our little group. I always know that I can have a secret rant there, no matter what’s got my goat that day, and you will be there to hear me out. Thank you. And thank you for your advice, for nit-picking my book, for being honest with me when you don’t like something, and for being my greatest cheerleaders both inside the group and outside.
Thanks also to my new editor, Sara. You have a knack for spotting repeated words, and believe it or not, that’s actually one of the skills I value most in an editor, because repeated words are my pet hate. Thanks for taking the time to work with Dead and Gone and for putting up with my delays and general harebrained-ness. And my lack of commas, particularly the Oxford.
I’d like to thank the ARC teams for reading and also for reviewing. It’s not an easy thing to take time out of your day to read, and it’s even harder to put all that into cohesive thought and then words in order to write a review—taking out more precious time to first write and then post it to sometimes several sites. Reviews, ratings, and opinions truly are the greatest gift you can give an author, even if you hated the book. I appreciate you all, and the time you’ve given to me and to this book.
Thank you to my readers. Especially to those who read this book even though it wasn’t really their style, to those that read it just because I wrote it, or to those that bought it just to help support my career. You guys put food on my table, and you are the reason I can sit here at my desk and type out stories instead of working a day job. I hope you enjoyed this one, but if not, I really hope I knock it out of the park with the next one. You guys are all that matters to me. You’re like the teacher, and I’m the little kid on her first day at school. I just want you to love me! Ha ha ha. I just want to give you all worlds that you long to return to again and again, and I hope I can achieve that with every book.
Last, but definitely not least, a big thanks to the romance readers that took an ARC and gave an opinion. You rebuilt my shattered confidence, and I most likely would have delayed release if it weren’t for all your encouraging words. Very special thanks to Dawn Yacovetta and Samantha Marie for the proofreading notes and suggestions! I value your input more than you probably know. And thanks to Missy Clover for the fun and also funny suggestions. I wish I’d had time to add the dog; it would have made things great!
Thanks again, everyone.
Love to you all,
ds
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