And so, she wrote. As the fine strands of sunlight danced around her head, she typed and plotted, she created. Creation was life to Sutton. Without the outlet, she would surely go mad. Perhaps that was the point of all art, truly, to eliminate the need for madness. And the poor souls who couldn’t surrender themselves to creation ended up ratty and homeless with tinfoil hats and lives lost to the wandering streets.

It was a romantic thought, that the work was divine and she was simply its channel. But she believed, as all great artists do, and gave herself up to the process.

Before Ethan, she’d had a method. A plan. A schedule.

After Ethan, she was happy to put those things on hold, to walk a different path. A path that led her into the darkness of death and loss, all over again.

That’s why her writing desires had changed. She was changed. She was forever changed.

With a simple prayer of forgiveness to the families, she created a new world around their worst nightmare.

The Headlines Are Grabbing

THE HEADLINES ARE GRABBING

Here’s irony for you.

Sutton, in the grips of a sudden creative urge, flipped off the television before the story of the lovers’ murders finished playing, and so missed what would have been a very important moment in her life.

The story France24 followed with, rare for a European television station, was about the sudden disappearance of an American woman. A writer. Normally this foreign news wouldn’t be worthy of coverage, but the woman was the wife of a celebrated and much-loved author who was very, very popular in France. Not only did his book sell well in French-speaking territories, but he’d once written the scripts for a hugely popular television show that was still in syndication.

She missed the headline: Author’s Wife Missing.

She missed the delicious broadcast innuendo that followed: author is suspect in wife’s disappearance.

She missed the fabulously replayable footage of her gorgeous husband standing in the middle of the street in front of their house, pale and wild, screaming at the reporters while rain hammered him and made his thick hair plaster to his head.

She missed the still shot of him flipping the bird as he entered the house.

She missed the subsequent footage of a towheaded blonde cop entering her sanctum.

She missed the interviews given by her best friends, the people she hadn’t trusted with the truth of what was happening in her world.

She missed it all.

If she hadn’t missed it, what would have happened differently? Would she have realized she was truly loved? That she’d caused worry and concern throughout a community, and now, the world? Would she have packed her things and gotten on a plane immediately?

If only she had. If only she had.

Rise and Shine

RISE AND SHINE