Hawk. I falsely accused you of a terrible crime. I apologize.’
Olivia shook her head. ‘I made a mistake, too. Mine was worse.’
‘You’re sixteen,’ Altman told her. ‘I hate to break this to you, but you have a lifetime of mistakes ahead of you. I think your parents will tell you that the thing about mistakes is learning how to live with them.’
The county attorney winked at Chris, and he marched after the police officers with the precise steps of a soldier.
When everyone else was gone, it was just the three of them in the field. Chris. Olivia. Hannah.
The sun vanished, searing the clouds with streaks of orange. The air got colder.
They were a family torn apart and brought back together. They’d lost everything and won everything. He had exactly what he wanted now; he had what he’d come here for. His home in the city had never been a home without them. Out here they had nowhere to go and nowhere to live, and somehow it didn’t matter to Chris at all.
He went and cupped his daughter’s face, and they bent into each other, forehead to forehead. He felt lucky. He felt saved.
‘I should find Tanya,’ Olivia said. ‘She’s going to need help.’
‘Go.’
His daughter kissed his cheek. ‘Love you, Dad.’
‘I love you, too.’
Olivia eyed both of her parents, and she got a silly smile as she watched them together. For a moment, she could have been ten again, their little girl, not a young woman who had already had her heart broken and grown up too fast. She was happy. Chris realized that his daughter had learned something that it had taken him decades to figure out. When something good happens, you don’t ask questions. You just smile and hold on tight.
Hannah stood beside him as Olivia hobbled toward the school to find her friend. He felt her fingers curl around his, and she took his hand. They both knew. They both felt it. She didn’t ask if he was staying, if he would be there for her, if he would be there for Olivia, if they could rebuild themselves along with the towns. It was understood. No questions. Smile and hold on tight.
Maybe they had months. Maybe they had years. Time was a funny thing. He didn’t care. He wasn’t going anywhere. Right there, holding onto Hannah, he felt time freeze as solid as the winter ice, until it didn’t move at all.
Note from the Author
You can write to me at brian@bfreemanbooks.com. I welcome e-mails from readers and always respond personally. Visit my web site at www.bfreemanbooks.com to join my mailing list, get book club discussion questions, read bonus content, and find out more about me and my books. You can also join me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/bfreemanfans.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The towns of Barron and St. Croix are fictional, so those of you who enjoy using Google Earth to follow my locales won’t find them on a map this time. However, most of the scenes in the book are based on real places found in Southwestern Minnesota towns such as Montevideo, Granite Falls, Ortonville, and Hazel Run. The Spirit Dam was inspired by the Lac Qui Parle dam over the Minnesota River.
I’m very grateful to the team that has helped me navigate the last few years of significant change in the publishing industry. This includes my international agents Ali Gunn and Diana Mackay and my U.S. agent Deborah Schneider, as well as co-agents around the world who have helped me bring my books to readers in many countries. In the publishing world itself I am especially grateful to my new UK colleagues, David North and Charlotte Van Wijk of Quercus, for their enthusiasm and support in launching
A special thanks also to Isanti County Attorney (and long-time reader of my books) Jeff Edblad for his help on juvenile legal proceedings in Minnesota. Any errors or dramatic license in such matters are, of course, totally of my own making.
I’ve been privileged to enjoy the support of a very loyal cadre of readers around the world. I’m grateful to my advance readers – Marcia (who never lets love get in the way of helpful criticism!), Matt and Paula Davis, Mike O’Neill, and Alton Koren – for their insights and advice on the earliest drafts of this manuscript. I also want to thank the Italian readers at Corpi Freddi – especially Marco Piva – for many years of dedication to me and my books. These ‘cold bodies’ have warm hearts!
Marcia and I are fortunate to have dear friends to help us through the roller-coaster ride of the writing life, including Barb, Jerry, Matt, Paula, Keith, Katie, Terri, Pat, Gary, Sally and many others who open their hearts to us. My parents, my brother and his family, have been supportive of my career in so many ways; they are far from us in distance but always close to us in spirit.
Finally, readers who have followed me from the beginning know that the most important words in each book are the first two: ‘For Marcia.’ For twenty-eight years, she has been my wife and best friend, and I’m always grateful to her for sharing this ride with me.
