Catherine West [West - As the Light Fades (ARC)

As the Light Fades

Catherine West

as the light fades

a novel

CATHERINE WEST

Copyright 2019 Catherine West. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the author.

Published in association with Books & Such Literary Management, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170 Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370

Cover Design and Interior Layout | Yvonne Parks | PearCreative.ca

To contact the author | CatherineJWest.com

ISBN (Print): 978-1-09-145323-4

Owning our story can be hard, but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it.

BREN BROWN

For all of us brave enough to own our stories, no matter the cost.

ACCLAIM FOR

catherine west

Peeling back the curtain that shrouds lifes messy corners, Catherine West has written a story that we all need. Where Hope Begins will take your breath and quite possibly your heart. West reminds us that even in the midst of heartbreak and loss, hope is never out of reach. Where Hope Begins will linger long after you close the last beautiful page.

Patti Callahan Henry

New York Times Bestselling Author

Catherine West gracefully braids together grief, humor, and longing in her newest book. Where Hope Begins is a beautiful and heartrending story of a marriage and the two people who must decide if it is worth saving. A story for anyone whos had to start overand those who wonder where others find the courage and strength to do so.

Lauren Denton

USA Today Bestselling Author of The Hideaway

Emotionally gripping and stunningly honest, Where Hope Begins is a moving story that breaks the heart, then masterfully puts it back together, somehow fuller than it was before.

Katie Ganshert

Award-Winning Author of No One Ever Asked

... chock full of raw emotion and beautiful prose... wonderfully drawn characters and scenes pull the reader along on a rollercoaster ride of emotion.

RT Book Reviews

41/2 Stars, Top Pick

Catherine Wests writing always pulls me deeply into the story, engaging my heart. In Where Hope Begins, the characters struggles caused me to wonder, What are they going to do? and What would I do if I were them? West courageously wades into the turbulent waters of relationshipsthe struggles we all face. Rather than settling for easy or clichd answers, she writes with realism, always choosing hope and grace.

Beth K. Vogt

Christy and Carol Award-winning author of

The Thatcher Sisters Series

Wests compelling and heart-wrenching, rising-from-the ashes novel realistically delves into the tough issues of suicide, anger, and guilt with a touch of grace and hope.

Library Journal

Starred Review for Where Hope Begins

West is a good painter of atmosphere, making the foggy past ever so slightly sinister... [she] manages the central tensions well.

Publishers Weekly

Review for The Things We Knew

A beautiful exploration of the bonds that tie us together as family and the secrets that sometimes unravel those threads. Catherine West builds a world worth entering and characters that linger long after the last page is turned.

Julie Cantrell

Review for The Things We Knew. New York Times

and USA TODAY bestselling author of The Feathered

Bone and Perennials

In The Things We Knew, author Catherine West captures the nuances of deeply rooted familial pain and its impact on those in its wake. Intriguing setting, realistic characters with all-too-familiar tensions, and a tangle worth tracing to its source make The Things We Knew as satisfying as a Nantucket sunrise.

Cynthia Ruchti

Author of As Waters Gone By and Song of Silence

West does an exquisite job depicting the complexity and messiness of overcoming trauma.

Publishers Weekly

Starred Review for The Memory of You

BOOKS BY

catherine west

Yesterdays Tomorrow

Hidden in the Heart

Bridge of Faith

The Things We Knew

The Memory of You

Where Hope Begins

prologue

The man staring back at me looks old.

I painted his portrait once, which he wasnt very happy with. His hair was a deep brown; raw umber, Id call it. Used that color a lot back in the day. Streaks of gray look out of place, like theyre trying too hard to fit where they dont belong. And the part is combed on the wrong side.

Though my memory is fading, wrinkles I know werent there before give new character and tell a thousand tales of a life well lived. Leathery skin pulls this way and that as he grimaces, equally perplexed by this new situation we find ourselves in. This place were supposed to call home isnt. A long rectangular building that smells like a hospital on a good day and a sewer on a bad is filled with strangers who seem to know as little about themselves as we do. Were given barely edible food; watery eggs for breakfast, soup and sandwiches for lunch, and whatever mush they decide to throw together for dinner. Board games or cards for the ones who can still think over the endless blather of the television. Some just sit where theyre put, suffering through endless days of doing nothing. Mindless routine for the mindless.

I suppose our surroundings are comfortable enough. I have my own room and a few things I still know are mine, like books, and photographs on the wall, but Ive never liked change and Im not about to embrace it now.

You have no choice, old man.

His gravelly voice startles me. But hes right. I stare back at him and nod. Names come and go with increased frequency these days. I try to recall his before it slips away. But I dont need to remember it. Its the eyes that give it away.

Eyes the color of dark toffee, flecked with gold, a hint of green on a good day. Eyes that have seen the passage of time, held laughter and tears, watched over loved ones, and reluctantly let them go. Eyes that still twinkle with mischief and a resolute determination that says this is not the end.

The man gives a sudden smile, and recognition flips a switch.

I think it might be me.

one

Liz Carlisle never imagined shed be back in this place. Certainly never dreamed shed actually enjoy the simple act of walking the dogs around the Nantucket neighborhood shed grown up in. Yet here she was.

Everything was different now. Renovations at Wyldewood, the rambling estate that Liz and her four siblings called home, were well underway. Her brother David and his wife Josslyn were overseeing the work on the house as well as running after their toddler twins, and her sister Lynette was still in Africa, so the task of trekking out with the familys two labs had fallen to her. Truthfully, any excuse to get away from the noisy house, now more of a construction zone than anything, was most welcome.

She studied the mottled branches above her as she waited for Diggory and Jasper to finish sniffing around the trees roots. The leaves were showing off in a dazzling display of golds and reds, a shock of color that would inspire any artist. Not so long ago, Dad would have found joy in capturing the beauty of the scene on paper. These days he showed little interest in art. He showed little interest in anything.

Their fathers slow decline was just one more thing she had no control over.

Liz sighed and breathed in the crisp air. Fall had taken its time this year, but today the salt-kissed island breeze held a chill that hinted of first fires and frosty mornings.