Copyright © 2014 M.L. Steinbrunn

Interior Design by Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

Cover Design by Arijana Karcic, Cover it Designs

Editing by Hot Tree Editing

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2014

For my husband and children. You have been my moon and stars who have guided me on this fantastic journey.

For my mother. She was both a mother and a father to our little family and I’m so grateful for the courage she had to take on that daunting task. I am a better mother today because of her powerful example. She was my inspiration for Vivian, and she will always be my compass.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

About the Author

Acknowledgements

1990

“Please, Daddy, don’t go. Your favorite show is on tonight; we could pop popcorn and all watch together.”

Pushing his blonde shaggy hair out of his face, my father puts his overnight bag on the floor and crouches down beside me. “Oh, Princess, I can’t tonight. I have to get everything ready for the grand opening tomorrow, but I promise we will have some special time once the new store opens.”

“Okay, but I get to pick the show.”

“Deal,” he says, pulling me into his lap and then standing with me. “After school tomorrow your momma is bringing you to the new store for the party. When it’s all over, we will come home and veg out with snacks and Disney movies. Amanda and Charlotte can help build the fort.”

“No way, Manda’s too little; she always pulls down the blankets.”

“Well, we’ll figure out some job for her.” He kisses my cheek, scratching me with his stubble, making me giggle and I pull away. “Love you, Princess. You have a good day at school tomorrow, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

He puts me down on my feet and steps away to give my sisters and my mom a kiss before stepping out the door.

I’m restless the rest of the evening, picking out the best blankets and selecting a variety of movies that we could all agree upon for father/daughter night. My dress for the grand opening is already laid out, as are my school clothes for the next day. So, I toss and turn, hoping the sun will come up and the day can begin.

My dad is not home often, so these special nights are few and far between. But he always keeps his promises, always. We live just outside Colorado Springs in a relatively small suburb. My mom has been trying to convince my dad to move to her hometown, which is even smaller, but my dad insists that we need to stay in the city for work. She is a secretary at one of the doctor’s offices downtown, and my dad owns a hardware store on the northern end of the city. He has always worked long hours, but when he decided to open up a second location, we have seen him even less.

I’m awake before my mom comes into my room to get me up for school. I quickly get dressed, grab a muffin from the counter, and am waiting on everyone else to load into the car. I’m only five, but I’m fairly independent, to my parents’ dismay. Besides, if I step out of line, Charlotte usually corrals us back in. She’s only three years older, but thinks she can tell us all what to do.

My day at school is nothing spectacular. We put letters together to make single syllable words, recess, lunch, and I’m not sure what kind of meat was on my tray, so I’ve blocked out that part, story time and tissue paper craft- time. I’m now holding my rainbow paper picture when Mrs. Adler pulls into the front of the school to pick Charlotte, Amanda, and me up.

Mrs. Adler lives next door and watched all of us when we were little. Since she stays home, she and my mom made a deal to have her take us home each day and watch us for an hour or so until my mom gets off work.

“Hi, Mrs. Adler,” we all shout as we wave and climb into her Buick. The poor car has seen better days; there’s rust on the outside, and there’s duct tape holding the upholstery together on the bench seat in the back. When she backs up, she has to hold the rear view mirror to see because it fell off the windshield ages ago.

“Hello, girls,” she says as we buckle in. Instead of asking us about our day or my picture, something she always does, she just stares straight ahead, not giving us a second glance. She is one of the most cheerful people we know, so I just figure one of her boys must have gotten in trouble again; they always seem to be grounded.

“I made a picture today, Mrs. Adler,” I say, trying to make her forget about her naughty sons.

“That’s great, sweetheart,” she responds, still looking ahead at the road in front of her, her voice lacking enthusiasm. I’m definitely going to have to sic Charlotte on the boys when we get home.

It’s a short ride, and soon we are pulling into her driveway. I jump out, gathering my backpack and picture.

“Can we play with the boys before we have to get ready for the party, or are they in too much trouble?” I ask, putting my arms through the handles of my backpack.

Mrs. Adler wipes away a tear that slips down her cheek; those boys must be in BIG trouble. “No, Vivian today is not a good day for you guys to come and play. Your momma came home early and needs you girls to go on home.”

I step around the car and hand her my picture, “I was going to give this to my daddy tonight at the party, but I think you need it more. I hope it cheers you up.” I quickly turn and jog to follow behind Charlotte, who has Amanda in her grasp and is halfway across our front lawn already.

There are cars lining the street, and I have to maneuver around more vehicles in the driveway to reach the front door. “I thought the party was going to be at the new store. Why did everyone come to our house instead?” I ask Charlotte.

“The party is supposed to be at the store; I don’t know why we have company,” she answers turning the handle to the front door.

As soon as we pass through the doorway, I quickly realize that there will be no party. Our house is filled with people, some hugging, some crying, many I don’t know, but none of them look like they are here to celebrate.

Just as I get my backpack off to hang on the front hook, my mom appears through the crowd. The sea of bodies parts for her as she walks toward us. She’s wearing the same navy blue dress that she left for work in this morning, but it’s not as crisp. The tension of the day is apparent with wrinkles stretching all across the front. Her face is pale and her eyes are fiery red. I’ve only seen my mother cry a few times, but it was enough to remember what the aftermath looked like, and I can tell she’s been crying.