But I’ve come to believe we create our own curses and carry them through life because we’ve been told it’s our lot. We’re taught to relive our mothers’ heartaches, to accept their sufferings as our own, and pass them on to the next generation, again and again, until one of us at long last says no, and the curse is finally broken. Because we’ve discovered a new kind of magick—the kind that comes with choosing for ourselves, with saying I will do something else, be something else, have something else. This was the lesson Maman was trying to teach me the night she slipped away. There are no curses. Only patterns meant to be broken. Dreams to chase. Hearts to hold. Magick to make.
Another glance at the clock. It’s time. I repeat the charm once more for good luck, the words so similar to the ones I composed so many years ago, for another dress.
Over distance, over time,
Whatever trials might come,
May the echoes of these once lost hearts
Be forever joined as one.
My heart is full as I pull on my gloves and pick up the flowers from the box at the foot of the bed. I’m all but floating as I step into the garden. Rory is beaming and absolutely beautiful. She blinks back tears and places a hand on her heart. Beside her, Hux grins like a man who knows he’s hopelessly blessed. And why shouldn’t he, when fate has seen him safely home to the woman he adores and his new practice is set to open next month.
Camilla pushes to her feet, already blotting away tears. Thia signals the musicians, and the first notes of Pachelbel’s “Canon” fill the air. I take a step and then another. And then I see Anson, smiling at the end of the narrow slate path, his eyes locked with mine as I close the distance between us. The man I have loved for forty years, and the only groom I’ve ever wanted.
The music fades as I slip my hand into his. Maman’s voice is suddenly there, like a whisper against my cheek. As long as you keep his beautiful face in your heart, he will never truly be lost. There will always be a way back. And at long last, we have found it. It has taken us decades to get to this place, but that doesn’t matter. Because we know now that neither of us ever really let go. Somewhere, in the most carefully guarded corners of our hearts, we held on.
La fin.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
And now, for the hardest part of writing any book. Saying thank you. Seriously, after the year that was, where do I even begin? With every book, there are people to thank, those who support our vision and hold our hands, dry our tears and keep us fed, but I’m always horrified by the thought that in the heavy fog that always descends at the end of a project, I might leave someone out, and holy smokes, this list is a long one. So here goes . . .
To my incredible agent, Nalini Akolekar, who threw me a lifeline when I was ready to jump ship. Thank you for keeping my head above water and reminding me to breathe. And of course, a huge shout-out to the entire Spencerhill team—you guys seriously rock.
To my editor, the extraordinary Jodi Warshaw, who understands that sometimes life gets in the way and also makes that okay—my gratitude knows no bounds. For your patience, support, enthusiasm, and generosity, so many, many thanks. Ditto for Gabe Dumpit and Danielle Marshall and every single member of the Lake Union / APub team, who are without a doubt the best in the biz.
To my developmental editor, Charlotte Herscher, who pushes me to go that extra mile—and then to go one more after that. Thank you for your eyes, your expertise, your love of story, and for always knowing what I’m trying to say—even when I’m not sure how to say it—and for helping me finally get there.
To the book bloggers, whose love of the written word has been the wind beneath so many writers’ wings this year, including mine, your support and dedication to authors mean everything. Special thanks to Susan “Queenie” Peterson, Kathy Murphy （a.k.a. the Pulpwood Queen）， Kate Rock, Annie McDowell, Denise Birt, Linda Zagnon, and Susan Leopold.
To my fabulous tribe at Blue Sky Book Chat: Kerry Anne King, Jane Healey, Patricia Sands, Alison Ragsdale, Marilyn Simon Rothstein, Bette Lee Crosby, Peggy Lampman, Soraya Lane, Lisa Ann Braxton, Lainey Cameron, and Loretta Nyhan, thanks for the fun and the friendship and for your wonderful generosity.
To my wonderful brothers and sisters: Todd, Gina, David, Scott, Nanette, Tom, and Shelly, without whom I would never have made it through 2020. My love always, and more gratitude than you can possibly fathom. I’m pretty sure I offered several of you a kidney. The offer still stands.
To my mom, Patricia Crawford, who has always been and always will be my biggest and loudest cheerleader. Thank you for being someone I could always look up to, for teaching me to work hard every day and to always be kind. I love you.