I have been lucky enough to tour with several of the books in the Kate Burkholder series and I must say it has been one of the highlights of my career.

I’d like to dedicate this book to the booksellers, librarians, reviewers, readers, and bloggers who have attended my events, bought the books, written reviews, blogged about the books, and written me to share your thoughts.

I very much appreciate each and every one of you.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Becca had always known her life would end in tragedy. As a child, she couldn’t speak to her certainty of her fate or explain how she could foresee such a thing. She believed in providence, and it came as no surprise when she realized she would also die young.

When she was seven years old, she asked her mamm about death. Her mother told her that when people die, they go to live with God. The answer pleased Becca immensely. It gave her great comfort, knowing what she did about her destiny. After that day, not once did she fear the closeness or inevitability of her mortality.

Now, eight years later, as she stood on the frozen shore of Mohawk Lake and stared across the vast expanse of ice, her mother’s words calmed the fear that had been building inside her for days. Dusk had fallen, and the lake was a monochrome world in which sky and horizon blended to a gray smear, one barely discernible from the other. A dozen or more ice-fishing shanties dotted the lake’s surface. Yellow light glowed in one of the windows. But the others were dark, telling her the Englischer fishermen had gone home for the day.

The wind scored Becca’s skin through the covering of her wool coat as she stepped onto the ice. Blowing snow whispered across the jagged plane and stung her face like sand. The hem of her dress was frozen and stiff and scraped against her bare calves. She’d been walking for quite some time and could no longer feel her hands or feet. But those petty discomforts didn’t matter. Soon she’d be home, and she didn’t have much farther to go.