What sadness it was to learn this morning that my favorite author and inspiration, Mary Higgins Clark, had passed away on Friday, January 31, 2020. I immediately, went to my book shelf and thumbed through a few of my favorites, which I plan on reading again. #RIP #MaryHigginsClark #suspense

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The sun rose higher above the water as day broke, and she wondered why it had taken her so many years to come back.  This was the place where she had played in the sand along the shoreline as a small child, building sandcastles and collecting sea glass with Cate; while her father and brother fished off the rocky jetty.  She thought of her mother sitting near the water’s edge in a rainbow sand chair reading the latest New York Times Bestseller, looking beautiful with her brown hair pulled back and wearing pink, over-sized sunglasses.  

Paige welcomed the wave of calmness that overcame her as the memories flooded her heart and mind.  She turned her face up toward the rising sun.  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply once again, letting the warmth of the sun’s rays drape over her body like a blanket.  The screeching call of a gull brought her back to reality.  Her thoughts flew back to her mother lying in a hospital bed and her father lying on a slab in the morgue.  Warm tears seeped from the corners of her eyes and trickled, one by one, down her cheeks. 

My writing journey began in the sixth-grade when challenged to write a short story personifying an inanimate object for a local women’s club writing competition. My silly story called “Bill Board” about a corner billboard that loved to comment on the people who walked by on the sidewalk below, won first prize and gave me the encouragement I needed to believe in my abilities.

My Nana was always my biggest writing supporter and I wish I could’ve fulfilled my dream of writing and sharing my first novel with her before she past. Unfortunately, that never came to fruition. Exchanging letters with her is one my most treasured childhood memories, and I must believe that somewhere out there in this vast universe she is watching over me, knowing that each word I write is the result of her love and encouragement. You can only image the thrill I felt, when going through her papers I found those letters.

Cate made a sudden turn off the paved road onto a dirt trail, then came to a stop at the foot of a rickety log bridge at the edge of the marsh.  This was the spot.  The spot where she and Ryan were to have met.  The spot where he had once kissed her.  She gingerly walked across the hap hazard bridge and came to stand on the soft, mushy edge of a small fishing pond surrounded by skunk cabbage, ferns, and cattails.  The murky pond surface was littered with green lily pads with white, cup-shaped flowers in full bloom.  Moving along the water’s edge, she called back to Michael, “he’s not here.”

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