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      Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.

      —Hebrews 11:1

      To my mom, Dorothy Hannon—and our special

       memories of Nantucket.

      Contents

      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

      Epilogue

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      Nathan Clay gazed out over the sparkling blue waters off Nantucket, scanned the pristine white beach and took a long, slow breath.

      What a change from the tiny, windowless cell he’d left behind four days ago—his home for the past ten long years.

      The juxtaposition was surreal.

      Settling back in the white folding chair, he tugged at his unaccustomed tie, surveyed the seventy-five wedding guests assembled on the lush, garden-rimmed lawn that abutted the beach, and tried not to feel out of place. But it was a losing battle. He doubted anyone else in this high-class group had served time in prison. Especially the Supreme Court justice on the other side of the aisle, who was a longtime friend of the Morgan family.

      The family his sister, Marci, would be marrying into in just a few minutes.

      Talk about moving up in the world.

      She deserved it, though. Marci had worked hard to build a better life. To rise above their tough upbringing.

      He wished he could have done as well.

      Then again, his childhood had been even rougher than Marci’s or his big brother’s had been. Thanks to the secret that had darkened his life for more years than he cared to recall.

      Bile rose in his throat, and he forced himself to swallow past it, to suppress the ugly memories. Those days were history. They couldn’t hurt him unless he let them. And he’d resolved never again to give his past that kind of power.

      A string quartet positioned to his right began to play, and he focused on the baroque music, letting its measured cadence calm him. Attired in black dresses, the four musicians blended together perfectly, each handling her instrument with a confidence that spoke of long hours of practice.

      But it was the violinist who caught his attention. Eyes closed, she swayed slightly as she drew the bow back and forth over the strings, producing pure, clear notes that quivered with emotion.

      Nathan didn’t know a lot about music. He hadn’t had much opportunity to learn to appreciate the finer things in life. But he understood the creative process. Knew all about losing oneself in one’s art. That had been his salvation during his decade behind bars. And he sensed this woman felt the same way.

      He studied her, appreciating the sweep of her long lashes as they feathered into a graceful arc beneath her eyes. Although her light brown hair was secured at her nape with a barrette, the no-nonsense style was softened by wispy bangs that brushed her smooth brow. The early afternoon sun highlighted her classic bone structure and warmed her flawless complexion, while the whisper of a smile touched her soft, beguiling lips.

      Nathan’s gaze lingered on their supple fullness…and all at once he found it difficult to breathe.

      Reaching up, he ran a finger around his suddenly too-tight collar and forced himself to turn away. Only to discover his new landlady, Edith Shaw, observing him with a smile of her own from two rows back. He had no idea how to interpret the gleam in her eye…nor the wink she directed his way.

      And he didn’t have a chance to figure it out, because all at once the music changed and an expectant hush fell over the guests.

      The minister, groom and best man took their places beside the wooden gazebo where the vows would be exchanged. Nathan watched his sister-in-law, Heather, start down the aisle. The matron of honor was as radiant as a bride herself—due to the slight bulge in her tummy that heralded the arrival of a new generation of Clays, Nathan suspected.

      As the music changed again and Marci appeared on J.C.’s arm, Nathan’s breath once more caught in his throat. With her blond tresses and pinup figure, Marci had always been beautiful. But today she was luminous as she slowly made her way toward the gazebo—and

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