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Contents ( 66)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. Dedication
  6. Contents
  7. Map of Florida
  8. one
  9. two
  10. three
  11. four
  12. five
  13. six
  14. seven
  15. eight
  16. nine
  17. ten
  18. eleven
  19. twelve
  20. thirteen
  21. fourteen
  22. fifteen
  23. sixteen
  24. seventeen
  25. eighteen
  26. nineteen
  27. twenty
  28. twenty-one
  29. twenty-two
  30. twenty-three
  31. twenty-four
  32. twenty-five
  33. twenty-six
  34. twenty-seven
  35. twenty-eight
  36. twenty-nine
  37. thirty
  38. thirty-one
  39. thirty-two
  40. thirty-three
  41. thirty-four
  42. thirty-five
  43. thirty-six
  44. thirty-seven
  45. thirty-eight
  46. thirty-nine
  47. forty
  48. forty-one
  49. forty-two
  50. forty-three
  51. forty-four
  52. forty-five
  53. forty-six
  54. forty-seven
  55. forty-eight
  56. forty-nine
  57. fifty
  58. fifty-one
  59. Epilogue
  60. Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
  61. Prologue
  62. one
  63. Acknowledgments
  64. About the Author
  65. Back Ads
  66. Back Cover

“Is . . . is Peyton . . . alright?” he asked her.

She reached out for Peyton and he came to his father’s bedside.

“Hey, Daddy,” he said.

His father looked confused, staring at Peyton as if he were a stranger. “I . . . don’t . . . understand. Our Peyton’s . . . four years old.”

“Don’t worry—he’s doing a little time traveling as he comes around,” said Doctor Roth, who had just come into the room. Standing on the opposite side of the bed from Kate and Peyton, he leaned over Marshall and asked, “So you say Peyton is only four?”

Marshall nodded.

“And where do you live?” Doctor Roth asked.

“Chatham Avenue . . . on . . . Tybee.”

Kate’s mouth flew open. “He’s right. When Peyton was four, that’s where we lived. We were so happy there. But then he got pulled into all the Cabot . . .”

“What year is it, Marshall?” Doctor Roth asked.

“It’s 19 . . . 1936?”

“You’re getting there,” Doctor Roth said, giving Peyton’s father an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You’re getting there.”

nine

Outside, rain was drizzling down from a dreary gray sky, and everything Peyton could see through the window looked just as bleak as the hospital room where he sat next to his father’s bed, absently turning the pages of a magazine he wasn’t actually reading. Over two weeks had gone by since the surgery. His father was out of the neurology ward and into a regular room now, doing physical therapy twice a day. But he still didn’t recognize Peyton, and that blank stare was unnerving. It made him feel like he didn’t exist anymore—that he wouldn’t exist ever again, until his father said he did.

He stood up to stretch his legs and walked over to the window. This room was only three floors up, so he could see the people moving down below. Right away, he spotted them—Bonnie and Jasper standing on the sidewalk next to a man in a wheelchair being pushed by a nurse. A tall, thin woman stood next to the wheelchair. Soon a rattletrap of a pickup pulled up to the curb. Bonnie and Jasper climbed into the back. The tall woman handed them a quilt from inside the truck, and the children held it over their heads—their only shelter from the rain. Then the woman climbed into the cab, followed by the man in the wheelchair, who stood up with the aid of a walking cane and limped to the passenger door. Uncle Willis must’ve come for them after all.

Peyton wondered how often the Jarvis children went hungry and how well they were cared for. He hoped their mother would use the money he had given them to buy food for Bonnie and Jasper.

“Peyton?”

He was startled to hear his own name and turned to see his father looking around the room. “Yes, sir?”

“Son . . . where are we?” His father looked confused about everything except one. For the first time since the accident, Peyton saw recognition in his eyes. He went to his father’s bedside.