The knife slid out of me, a sickening, wet sound. Blood pooled at the bottom of my throat. And then I fell, an abrupt, uninterrupted drop.

I blinked, my brain softening, dulling. Images clicked by, one by one.

Polished black shoes.

The blur of snow as it tumbled past the open door.

The two-by-fours standing against the wall.

My body felt like it was composed of nothing but air. I had failed.

CHAPTER 1

MY BODY ACHED AND my head thudded fiercely after twelve hours of being run off my feet at the clinic. But all that disappeared as soon as I got home and heard Josh call out for me.

“Mommy, come upstairs!” he shouted.

“I’m coming!” I called. I’d never expected to work so much after I finished my residency. But here I was, bone-tired and depleted.

I shut the front door and dropped my purse onto the entry table. Upstairs, I could hear Nate whistling “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” off-key and Josh giggling. The house smelled of the rich, homey scents of Nate’s famous chili con carne. A ribbonlike thread of happiness wound around my heart, a gentle serenity easing over me.

Josh’s room was an explosion of Star Wars fabrics, posters, and action figures. Nate was kneeling next to him. He was wearing the blue sweater I’d given him last Christmas, which of course made me think of this Christmas. Now that Thanksgiving was over, I needed to start shopping, decorating, planning. The only problem was finding the time.

“Hey, Emma,” Nate greeted me, his blue eyes soft with love. I kissed my husband on the lips, thinking, as usual, how lucky I was. So many people call us by name, but very few make it sound special. Nate made mine feel special.

Nate tugged Josh’s shirt off, revealing a handful of purple marks on his back. We both gasped.

“Joshy, what happened!” I dropped to my knees and ran a hand down my son’s back.

The bruises were faint but distinct, a gruesome grayish purple. They looked like a trail of stepping-stones marching up the knobs of his spine.

“George slide-tackled me in soccer.”

“Was it an accident?”

“No.” Josh poked out his bottom lip. “He’s a poo-poo head.”

“A poo-poo head, huh?” I tried to maintain my most solemn expression. “Why’d he do that?”

“George kicked Ellie in the shin when she scored, so I told Mrs. Morrow and she took away our point. George said we would’ve won if I hadn’t blabbed. And then he slide-tackled me!” Josh looked at Nate earnestly. “But if we won, it wouldn’t be fair because we cheated. Right?”

“That’s right, Joshy,” Nate replied seriously. “We have to do the right thing, even if it’s the hard thing.”