One heart cannot remember. Another heart cannot forget. Both hearts reach toward something to grasp. For Sarah, it is her past. For Will, it is to bring that past back. The only thing standing squarely in their way — is their future. Each has promised their heart and life to another. But where happiness should be, instead are the dark billowing clouds of a storm of reckoning. The thunder of regret splits a horizon now raining down upon them in shards of shattered promises and unreachable memories. In Book One of this three-part saga, fate seemed it would not be denied, bringing Sarah and Will together in a turbulent world, uniting young hearts for the right reason: love. But — almost as if it has eyes — fate sees to it that no love that is meant to be is allowed to be, without it being tested to the passionate edges of chance. Accidents. Small ones are remembered and retold with a laugh. Useful ones are celebrated. But shattering ones — those are the ones that slip from the fingers of fate. The kinds that are followed by silence as it roars the sound of life changing. And it is this pounding drone that Sarah and Will — once inseparable — now hear when they listen to their hearts. After her accident, Sarah awakens in a hospital room and into a very different life. Will, accidentally buried by heavy timber when he heroically saves a fellow worker, is also delivered into his own unforeseen, disoriented new life. Destiny’s dust never settles. And nothing is clear when doubts appear. Sarah is betrothed to Adley, while Will is engaged to Margaret, yet both are still connected to each other by an indescribable draw seemingly groping out from the deepest reaches of fate. A fate that deliberately leaves the door of temptation cracked open, giving Will a yearning peek at the naked truth of Sarah, who reaches out with the same tortured passions. A fate that leaves both to fight the desperate desires of wanting what each knows they cannot have. A fate that dares them to ask, “What will happen if I finally feel you?”
He carried her into her room, but paused to use his foot to swing the door closed behind them. He gently laid her on the bed, pulled his arms from under her, and kneeled onto the bed. As he brought his body directly over Sarah’s, she looked up at him, both of their eyes pleading with the other for permission.
No words would come. The emotion flooding her body now was something completely new, yet so unbelievably familiar. It was as if she were under a spell. A wonderful, scary spell. She reached up to his shoulders and ran her hands to the back of his head. She gently weaved her fingers into his hair. Her robe opened slightly with the movement of her arms. It was time. Time to surrender.
He moved slowly toward her and stopped just above her waiting mouth. “Sarah,” he whispered, so quietly that she barely heard. “I’ve dreamt of this for so long. Please tell me I’m not dreaming, now.”
She ran her hands through his hair again, and shook her head. “Maybe, it is all a dream. If it is, I don’t want to wake up. Please,” she said, as tears filled her eyes, “please, kiss me