Read an excerpt
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Chapter One
Madeleine Elliot's father's last,
and somewhat strange, request had brought her here, back to Harcles Hill Farm,
to the cramped, web-filled, dust-strewn garret high in the rafters. She had
searched the attic for hours until she'd found the tiny trinket he'd made her
promise to find, wrapped in an antique chemise.
She frowned and her breath deepened
as she studied the gold chain dangling between her fingers and pondered the
name that had so haunted her father in his final days. Did the gold chain
belong to the woman, Sarah, who had haunted his mind? And if it did, who was
Sarah and where on earth was she supposed to start looking for Sarah?
At first, Maddie had thought her
father had been confused, mistaking her mother's name with that of another,
then she had caught his eyes—his clear olive gaze. They had been sane and
lucid, without a hint of the disease that was invading his brain, torturing his
speech and contorting his thoughts. For a brief moment, she had glimpsed the
strong, vital man he had once been.
Faint molecules of ethereal scent
punctuated the heavy, dank odor of the attic filling her nostrils, touching her
senses with vague familiarity and teasing her brain with tidbits of impossible
memories—the soft lilt of music, the lively sliver of swishing skirts, the
sound of laughter amidst a maelstrom of shapeless faces. Happy times, although
Maddie had no idea how she could have known it.
"Well, it feels like
happy times," she murmured aloud in self-correction, then realized in
amazement she couldn't possibly have knowledge of that either. Still, somehow
her spirits were lifted by the thought and her heart overwhelmed by that
singular emotion.
Her fingers caressed the delicate
gold crowned heart swinging to and fro. It had been a while since she had been
happy...felt happy.
The shadows about her unexpectedly
softened to a gentle shade of blue and Maddie snapped her gaze left to the
bewitching aura of moonlight filtering through the attic's small casement
window.
She rose from the dust-covered floor
and, slipping the delicate chain into the pocket of her sundress, moved to the
window. She gazed out onto the dark and cloudless night sky. All was deserted
save for the clear full moon that hung above her father's precious hillside
walled garden below. "A Blue Moon," she declared pensively.
The Blue Moon has a face, her father
had once told her, and at midnight it speaks to those lucky enough to hear its
voice.
Maddie had thought this merely the
ramblings of an old, sick man, for the intelligibility had long gone, but a
faraway look had crept into her father's old eyes as he fell once again
exhausted against the pillows.
"The garden is an enchanted
place under the Blue Moon," he had said. "You don't remember, Maddie,
but magic happens. Walk in the light of the Blue Moon, and you'll see. Midnight,
Maddie. Midnight," he'd said, his voice feeble with death. "Just
believe."
Maddie sighed. Right now, she wanted
to believe more than anything. She wanted to escape her life. She closed her
eyes and tried her hardest to remember.
As a child she had believed her
father's stories...Stories that had felt so tangible, so real. She opened her
eyes and gazed down into the garden. It was real. Everything.
She knew it. She could feel it, yet, why couldn't she remember it?
"Because I am no longer a
child," she murmured sadly. "Peter Pan didn't want to grow up for the
very reason I can't remember."
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