I thank New American Library for their trust in me. Special thanks go to Serena Jones and to my extraordinary editor, Ellen Edwards, whose keen eye, patience and dedication to the written word have produced a novel that is deeper and more polished.

No acknowledgment would be complete without mentioning the support, love and undergirding of my family. To my sisters, Barbi and Jeannie, who believed and cried and encouraged. To Gwen and Anna, who believed. I love you.

My heart overflows with immeasurable love for my children—Meagan, Thomas and Rusk. They inspire me to want to be so much more than I am. Their towheaded beauty and fathomless love echo the God who designed them. To my husband, Pat, whose patience with his wife’s dream allowed it to come true. All of you are my heart’s beat.

And to my God in whom I live and move and have my being. If I write anything of worth, it is because His power flows through me. I thank Him for the gifts of story, of writing and of faith.

Contents

Praise for Losing the Moon

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgements

PART I

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

PART II

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

PART III

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Epilogue

Conversation Guide

Excerpt from The Favorite Daughter

About the Author

PART I

PART I

Here were vermin so muddled in mind, so passively responsive to environment, that it was very hard to raise them to a level of clarity and deliberateness at which mortal sin becomes possible.

—C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

The danger is that the soul should persuade itself that it is not hungry. It can only persuade itself of this by lying.

—Simone Weil

Chapter One

Chapter One

Torn pieces of sunlight whispered through aged moss, landed on a shattered log. The sea pounded on an unseen shore just steps beyond the dense maritime forest. Each crest and retreat of the waves matched Amy Reynolds’ heartbeat—a beat she once believed sure and steady, a heart cleansed of Nick Lowry. But he resided in the unseen—the syncopated space between each beat, the secret she didn’t hear, but knew existed.

Amy sat on the sea-aged fallen log, rested her head atop her knees and waited. She was now ready to hear what he had to say. Or she believed she was ready.

“All this time—all of it—I’ve been thinking of what to say to you. So many things to say to you.” He touched her mouth, her bottom lip.

Her hands fluttered in the air, butterflies with nowhere to land.