In February I realized that staying in Harmon was killing me. I couldn’t eat. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Sleep was impossible. Each day my ability to concentrate was fading. Each way I turned was a constant reminder of the pain that refused to fade.
And I had to concentrate. I had to remember.
When I walked down the main street of town to my shop people stared and whispered. Even people I didn’t know began to watch me as they noticed the locals staring.
I could imagine the questions they were asking in their minds.
“Who is that woman?” “Why are people watching her so closely?” “What has she done?”
What had I done?
I fell in love. I moved back to my hometown with my new husband. I opened a book shop which had been a lifelong dream.
I killed my husband.
No!
How could that be the truth? I loved Chase. I loved him still. But Chase was dead. Dead to the world, dead to me. Dead to the life we tried to build together.