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496 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published August 16, 2010
“My novels center around strong women who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances, and explore themes such as the power of a single choice, the corrosive nature of secrets and lies, dark family legacies, and the secrets we keep from each other and from ourselves.�
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Henry found himself wondering why people held on to anger and sadness, gripped it tight, let it dictate the course of their lives, but found it so hard to find and keep love.
. . .
Because it mattered how well they loved one another, how well they treated one another as a family � that was the root, that was the trunk of life. All the rest was just leaves that grew and fell, were raked away and grew again.
. . .
There was a story Chuck’s father used to tell about the boy who spread a rumor against a good doctor in the town where he lived. When the boy went to make amends, the doctor asked him to cut open a feather pillow and let the wind take the feathers away, then to come back the next day. When the boy returned, the doctor asked him to collect all the feathers and put them back in the pillowcase. Of course, it could never be done. Those feathers had been carried far, alighted in places where they couldn’t be seen or found but stayed there just the same.
. . .
You’ll regret it if you don’t. It’s one thing to try and fail. It’s another thing to never try at all. That’s the stuff that eats you alive.
. . .
“My husband used to say, ‘The past is history. The future is a mystery. The present is a gift.’�
. . .
It was all woven together in one great tapestry � the past, the present, the future � colors and textures mingling and entwined. It was nearly impossible to extract the present moment from what came before it, from what might lie ahead.
. . .
� she felt an awe at how all their separate lives were twisted and tangled, growing over and around one another, altering, aiding, and blocking on another’s paths. Not just her family but people who seemed so distant . . . And how the connections between them were as terribly fragile as they were indelible.