LITMIR.BIZ

      CONTENTS

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Title Page

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

      IT WAS COLD THAT DAY, colder than usual, even for Norway. The sky was bright blue, the sun golden, the wind a gentle sigh.

      Wendy stood poised in the chute at the top of the ski run. Excitement flowed through her blood like a river of quicksilver. She had never felt more alive.

      “Empty your mind of everything but the mountain,” her coach said, and then the horn sounded. She dug her poles into the snow and began her run down the slope. Through the first gate. Through the second, and the third, and…

      Too fast. Too wide on the turn. Recover, damn it! She’d made worse mistakes. Surely this wasn’t enough to make her lose control….

      She flew through the air, bindings never releasing. Somebody screamed as she hit the netting and bounced over it.

      This wasn’t supposed to happen, she thought with great clarity—and then she saw the trees…and the rocks.

       After that, there was only blackness.

      * * *

      “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, welcome to John F. Kennedy International Airport. Please keep your seats until the captain brings the plane to a complete stop.”

      Wendy jerked awake. A dream. That’s all it was, just a dream. She hadn’t had it in a long time. Now she was returning to Cooper’s Corner for the first time in the nine years since the accident, and she’d had the dream again.

       Welcome home, Wendy.

      Whoever it was who’d said you couldn’t go home again had been right.

      You can still change your mind, a little voice whispered. All she had to do was turn around and head back to Paris, where she’d been living for the past seven years. Yes, she’d given up her tiny flat in the Marais because she didn’t know how long she’d be gone, but she’d made friends. Gabrielle or Celeste would be happy to let her sleep on the sofa until…

      Until what?

      Wendy wasn’t about to regain the life she’d loved by teaching English to a bunch of French kids all day. One of the supporters of the American team had gotten her the job when she moved to Paris to continue therapy on her leg, but sitting in a stuffy classroom quickly lost its appeal even if your window looked out over a sea of chimney pots. She’d been born to schuss down a snow-covered mountain with the wind in her face, and if she was going to do that again—ski and race and feel as if she were truly alive—she had to go home. For a little while, anyway.

      The 747 lurched to a stop. People unbuckled their seat belts, stood up, sought their carry-on luggage. Wendy clutched the handle of her duffel bag and followed the other passengers from the plane, through the terminal and to the line snaking toward Customs.

      Even if she’d wanted to change her plans, it was too late. What excuse could she give? Her parents were expecting her, and her mother was ecstatic that she was coming home. Only her father knew the real reason for her visit, and she’d asked him not to say anything to her mother. Wendy would have to tell her the truth, but she’d do it face-to-face. Gina would take it better that way.

      That’s what Wendy hoped, anyway.

      And then there was Alison, driving the fifty or so miles from Cooper’s Corner to Albany Airport to meet the connecting flight from Kennedy. Wendy’s folks had offered to pick her up but she’d refused.

      “You guys don’t have to take the day off,” she’d said when they’d phoned the last time. “I know how crazy things get at school. Besides, I haven’t seen Allie in years. This way, we’ll have time for girl talk.”

      It was another half-truth. Gina and Howard had visited her every six months, but she hadn’t seen Alison in nine years. So, yes, it would be nice to spend some time with her—and if it also gave Wendy a little longer to adjust, out from under her mother’s watchful

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