Abigail had a book. Was it like Mama’s book? Could it have clues to help me get back to my real life? My head was spinning, my brain raced. I needed to unwind. I needed to think. The only thing that did that for me back in Chicago was yoga. I looked around the stable. Yes,...
“Samuel!” His strong cheekbones, his hazel eyes with a glint of gold, his very black hair that curled in unruly forms down his neck and brushed his shirt—he was my Samuel and I would remember him in any lifetime. His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head and peered at me. “Do we know each other?” ...