Strains of American jazz still frolicked in the air, but softer than before. Every now and then she detected footsteps in the hall outside her door. Somehow Anika had gotten Petar off the bed and onto a blanket on the floor. Helene shifted to her side on the cot and reached for the baby, stroking...
Even after all these years, he could see his mother’s form in the ripple of the waves. The pain of that day at his father’s party wrapped around his soul like the anchor of the Titanic. Yet his feet were rooted to the deck. Part of him hated the water. He hated the fact that something so beautifu...