T.S. KRUPA Author

www.tskrupa.com � tkrupa@tskrupa.com

On The Edge: A Novel by T.S. Krupa

Publisher: TS Krupa, LLC & BookBaby Release Date: June 9, 2015 Language: English Genre: Women’s Fiction, Sports, Romance Paperback: 318 pages ISBN-10: 0692441050 ISBN-13: 978-0692441053 List Price: $12.99 E-Book: 318 pages ISBN: 978-1483553979 List Price: $5.99

T.S. Krupa was born in New Haven, Connecticut. Raised in a Polish household with a blended American culture, she is fluent in Polish. She graduated with her bachelor’s degree from Franklin Pierce University, where she also played field hockey. She earned her Master’s from Texas Tech University and recently graduated with her Doctor of Education

from North Carolina State University. She lives in North Carolina with her husband and dog. In 2014, T.S. Krupa published her award-winning debut novel Safe & Sound. On The Edge is her second novel. To learn more about the author visit www.TSKrupa.com.

ABOUT THE BOOK Andy Parker is a war widow raising her fifteen-year-old daughter on her own. Hayden Grace dreams of becoming a professional snowboarder, and Andy is doing everything she can to make that happen. When Hayden Grace’s passion begins to falter, Andy is at a loss for how to re-inspire her daughter. Andy does her best balancing Hayden Grace’s competition, practice, and school schedule with her own work schedule and ski lessons. But work starts to demand more from Andy; providing an opportunity that will turn their lives upside down. But is it too good to be true? Soon, mother and daughter find themselves in Aspen for Hayden Grace’s first national competition when a chance encounter brings Andy into a passionate, unexpected romance that could change everything. Will Andy be able to find the happiness she deserves?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

T.S. KRUPA Author

www.tskrupa.com � tkrupa@tskrupa.com

PURCHASE LINKS:

v Amazon: http://bit.ly/OnTheEdgeAmazon v Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/OnTheEdge_BN v iBooks: http://bit.ly/OnTheEdgeiBooks v Books-A-Million: http://bit.ly/OnTheEdgeBAM

PRAISE FOR SAFE & SOUND: “If I could only write one word about Safe & Sound is woruld be ‘Wow.’ Full credit to T.S. Krupa for such a wonderfully written book, full of depth and feeling.” – Anne-Marie Reynolds, Readers’ Favorite (Bronze Medal Winner, Womens Fiction) “Holy emotional roller coaster! I was so invested in this book right at the start and couldn’t put it down.” – Jillian, Books and Motherhood “T.S. Krupa is an outstanding storyteller whose story captures the heart of readers with her compelling novel. I highly recommend.” – TM Adams, For the Passion of Romance “…a magnificent read! Safe & Sound has every quality that a great book is made of. If you are looking for a great new read, pick this 5 star book up!” – Kim, Bawaka’s Book Fair, “I loved the charaters, plot, and writing style… as a quick beachy read, it’s perfect. It’s a good middle in between Nicholas Spark’s dense novels and Sarah Dessen’s fast reads. Any romantic reader will swoon at Safe & Sound.” – Erin, Stealing Pages “Right away, I noticed the sophistication of the writing…I was so saddened by Jill’s circumstances and Krupa made me feel every second of it.” – Jasmine & Cecily, The Page Girls

OntheEdgeisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,placesandincidentsaretheproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,locales,orpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.

Copyright©2014byT.S.Krupa

Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverseengineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofthepublisher.

CoverartbyIceyDesigns.

ISBN:9781483553979

TableofContents

Chapter1

Chapter2

Chapter3

Chapter4

Chapter5

Chapter6

Chapter7

Chapter8

Chapter9

Chapter10

Chapter11

Chapter12

Chapter13

Chapter14

Chapter15

Chapter16

Chapter17

Chapter18

Chapter19

Chapter20

Chapter21

Chapter22

Chapter23

Chapter24

Chapter25

Chapter26

Chapter27

Chapter28

Chapter29

Chapter30

Chapter31

Chapter32

Acknowledgements

AbouttheAuthor

ToMyFamilyandFriendswhohavesupportedmealongthisjourney.Withoutyoutherewouldbenoadventure.

Chapter1

Icontinued topace in thehallwayby thefrontdoor,glancingoutthewindowevery sooften,waiting for headlights to sweep across thedriveway.ItwaswellaftersevenintheeveningandHaydenGracewaslate,whichwasn’tcompletelyunusual.Molly,ourgoldenretriever,wasontheupstairslandinglookingdownatme,followingmybackandforthmovements while Casey sat on the stairs fiddling with her phone. IexhaledmoresharplythanIintended,startlingthembothwhenIheardthegravelcrunchoutside.

“It’sabout time…you’re late,” I saidwithexasperation,whenshefinallymadeherwayintothehousewithstrandsofherlongblondehairstickingoutunderherknitcap,herbookbagandsnowboardbagintow.

“Sorry,”shemumbledwithnorealremorse,asonlyafifteen-year-oldcando.

“I’mheadedout,butCaseyishere tobabysityou,”Isaid, raisingmy voice at her retreating figure as she darted straight up the stairsbrushingpastCaseyandMolly,headedtoherroom,draggingherbagsonthefloor.

“Idon’tneedababysitter,Andy,”sheshoutedbackassheslammedthedoortoherroom.

“It’s‘Mom’…”IshoutedbackasthedeafeningsoundsofFallOut

Boy could be heard fromher room. Just then, a faint soundof a hornbeepedinthedriveway.

“That’sme,”Isaid,takingadeepbreathandlookingatCaseywhowasstillsittingonthestairs.

“No sweat, Mrs. Parker,” Casey said, giving me a half-heartedsmile.

“I’ll be back around eleven,” I began to say as I glanced at mywatch.MyminddriftedtothehecticscheduleIhadthefollowingday,“umm…maybemore like ten-thirty,” I clarified to the top of Casey’sheadasshecontinuedtoplayonherphone.

“Molly, how do I look?” I asked playfully, twirling around as Igrabbedmylonggraywintertrenchcoatoffthestaircasebanister.Mollyraisedherheadandgavemeawagofhertail.

“Thatwilldo,”IsaidquietlyandslippedoutthefrontdoortothewaitingsilverNissanAltimainthedriveway.

***

Noble’sGrillwasfarmorecrowdedthanIexpectedforaTuesdaynight.Icouldseecoupleshuddlingovertheirdinnerplatesengrossedinconversations,thetwenty-somethingprofessionalsswarmingthebarandnotveryfarawayfromthemtheolderbusinessmenweredrinkingwhiletrying to keep a subtle eye on those twenty-something professionals.One couple in particular in the far corner caught my eye. They were

doneeating,nowholdinghandsandwhispering toeachotherover thetable,but I couldn’t stopstaringat theman.Thegentlemanwasaboutthirtyyearsmysenior,butfromhisbroadshouldershelookedtostillbephysicallyfit.Hereachedbackrakinghisfingersthroughhisshortgrayhairandlaughedoversomethingthewomensaid.SomethingcaughtinmythroatasIcontinuedtostareshamelessly—helookedlikeIimaginedStefan would have, had he lived that long. A sudden sadness creptthroughme.

“Andy?” Gregg said across the table, breaking through mythoughts.

“Sorry,daydreaming,”Isaidshakingmyheadandtryingtobringmyselfbackfromthepastintothepresent.

“I was asking if you were free Friday night?” he repeated as hehandedthewaiterback thecheck. I tiltedmyheadslightly to theside,mentallyflippingthroughmycalendar.

“HaydenGracedoesn’thavepracticebecauseofthecompetitiononSaturday,”Imumbledtonooneinparticular.

“I’msorry,didyousaysomething?”heaskedconfused.

“Itwasnothing.”

“Does thatmeanyou are free?”he asked again,waitingpatientlyforareplywithatightsmile.

“I could see ifCasey is available,” I said, looking at himonly tofind his dark chocolate eyes staring back at me. “What?” I asked,

suddenlyself-consciousthatIhadfoodonmyface.

“You’rebeautiful,”hesaidsimply,andIsmiled.

“Yes,I’mfreeFriday.”

“That’s great because I was thinking…” he started saying, but Icouldn’thelpandglancebacktothecoupleinthecorner…theywerenolongerthere.Clearlydistracted,ItriedtofocusbackonGreggandwhathe was asking me. He wore black rimmed glasses that I imaginedmatchedhisoncejetblackhairnowpepperedwithgray.GreggwasonlyalittletallerthanIwaswhenwewerestandingsidebyside,butseatedacrossfrommehecarriedhimselfwithconfidenceandasophisticationthat I found alluring. Breaking away from his norm of wearing dressslacks and a suit jacket, tonight hewore a blue button up shirtwith amaroontieandkhakis.Iheardhimcough,andIcouldtellhehadaskedmeanotherquestionandwaswaitingforaproperresponse.

“That soundsnice,” I said takingagamblewithagenericanswerandhopingitwasadequate.

“Ok, good. Not everyone loves seafood so I wanted to ask,” hefollowedup.Isighed,knowingthatIhadansweredcorrectly.

***

ThedrivehomewasquietasIstaredoutthewindow,watchingthesnow flutter down among the small beacons of light from thesurroundinghouses.ItwasonlythesecondweekofJanuaryandalready

the meteorologist on the local news station was promising recordbreakingsnowfallbytheendofthewinterseason.

“Andy,areyouokay?Ifeellikeyouhavebeensomewhereelsethisentireevening,”Greggsaidwhenhepulledintomydriveway.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot going on,” I said, making up areasonableexcuse.Icouldseetheclockonthedash;itwasjustpastten-thirty.ThisonlyincreasedmydistractionasmymindracedaboutallthethingsIhadtodotogetHaydenGraceandmyselfreadyfortomorrow.

“Iunderstand,”hesaid,leaningoverandbrushingstraystrandsofblondehairfrommyface,capturingmyattention.Slowlyhemovedhisfingerseversosoftlydownmycheektomylips,sendingsmallpulsesofelectricityracingthroughmybody.Leaninginevencloserhekissedmylips gently. “Have a goodnight,” hewhispered, pullingback. I closedmyeyes,lettingthemomentsinkinbeforeexhaling.

“Goodnight,Gregg.SeeyouFriday,”Isaidatlonglastopeningmyeyesandstaringoutintothenight.

“Pickyouuparoundseven?”heasked,andInoddedgettingoutofthe car.Caseywasnowsittingon the sofa in frontof theTVbut stillplaying on her phone.Molly immediately bounded down the stairs togreetme,gettingherblondehairallovermyblacktights.

“Okay,sothat’sthirtydollarsfortonightandareyoufree,Fridayatseven?”IaskedCaseyaswestoodbythedoor.

“Yes,thatshouldworkfine,”shesaid,hesitating.“Mrs.Parker?”

“Yes?”

“If youdon’tmindme asking, butwhydoesHaydenGrace evenneedasitter?”

“It’s one of the rules her dad had for her…she couldn’t be homealoneuntilshewasatleastsixteen,”Isaid,slidingaglancetothepictureofStefanonthewall.

“Buthe’s…”shestartedandthenstopped.

“Yes, he passed away six years ago, but he is still her Dad andthosearestilltherules,”IexplainedinamonotonetoCaseyjustasIhadexplainedtoHaydenGracewhenevershearguedwithme.

“Ok, I’ll see you Friday,” she said and bounded out the door. Iclosedthedoormakingsuretolockitandturnedoff thefront lights;Icould see the snow flurries starting to come down faster as theyaccumulated on the ground. I sighed with relief knowing that Caseylivedjustnextdoor,andIdidn’thavetoworryaboutherdrivinginthesnow. Molly, who had been following me around since I got home,followedme back up the stairs toHaydenGrace’s room. I could stillhearthemusicthroughthedoor,butitwasn’tasloudasitwasearlier;Iknockedgentlygettingnoresponse.

“I’m going in,” I whispered to Molly, opening the door. Mollywhinedandlaydowninthehallway.

“Coward,”IsaidtoherasIenteredHaydenGrace’sroom.Pausingatthedoor,Iglancedaroundtheroom;thewallswerestillskyblueandhadbeensincethedayshewasborn—itwasthecolorherdadpickedfor

her. I can remember sitting in the corner sevenmonths pregnantwithHaydenGraceashepaintedthewholeroom;Ihadofferedmyhelp,buthe had refused. He later told me that the color reminded him of thebrightblueskyhehadseensomanytimeswhilesittingonthetopofamountainbeforehe rodedown.He thought itwas thebestview in thewhole world. Hayden Grace had started talking about repainting theroombeforeStefandied,butafterwardsshenolongerhadanyinterestinchangingit.Ismiledtomyselfthinkinghowfunnyitwasthatsomethingsomundanecouldevokesomanymemories.Herwallswerestillblue,but they were now covered in posters of snowboarding legendssuspended in some gravity-defying trick and famous mountain peaksshowing staggering heights covered in glisteningwhite snow.Directlyaboveherbedhungherdad’soldBurtonsnowboard,coveredinstickersfromvariousmountainshehadridden;itwasherprizedpossession,andshewasprettyprotectiveover it. Ihadonce taken itdowntowipe thedustdown,andshestoppedspeakingtomeforaweek.

Herdeskwasclutteredwithpapers,booksandmorepamphletsfortheKillingtonMountainSchoolshewasalwayspesteringmeabout.Herfloor was in a state of chaos with dirty and clean clothes and all hersnowboarding gear scattered at random. Sighing tomyself, I saw thatshewasfastasleepinbedwithherschoolbookslaidoutallaroundher.IshookmyheadandcarefullymademywayovertoheriPodandturnedoffthemusic.Collectingallthebooksoffthebed,Ipiledthemneatlyontopofherdesk.Lookingforherphone, Ispotted itbarelystickingoutfrom under her pillow. Pulling it out, I took a moment and flippedthroughher texts,Twitter,e-mailandFacebook.It lookedlikeHayden

Grace’s best friend,Madison,washaving someboy issueswith a guynamedPreston. From the pictureMadison had sent he looked like thetypicalfifteen-year-oldboywithlongshaggyhair,baggyclothesandtoomuchfalseconfidence.Lucie,HaydenGrace’sotherbestfriend,missedpracticewiththestomachbugandwaslamentingaboutthecompetitiononSaturdayaswellasthegeometrytesttheyhadonThursday.Finally,it looked likeher snowboardingCoach,RonaldDavis,or#Coachas itwas programmed in her phone, was impressed with her half pipeperformancetoday.SatisfiedthatshecontinuedtobehaveaseveryotherteenagerontheplanetIslippedthephoneintothepocketofmydress.Sheknewbetterthantotakeittobedwithher;Imadeamentalnotetoremindheragainabouttherules.AsIpickedupthecomforteroffofthefloortocoverherup,sheshiftedslightlyinhersleep.

“LoveyouHaydenGrace,”Iwhispered,kissingherforehead.

“Love you too, Mom,” she mumbled back. They were the bestwordsinthewholeworldandneverfailedtobringasmiletomyface.Leavingher room,Mollyand Iheaded to thekitchenwhere Ipluggedher phone into the charging dock next to my own. After doing thedishes,foldingtheclothesinthedryerandthenmovingtheclothesfromthewasher to thedryer,Molly and I finallyheaded to theback tomybedroom. Once thereMolly quickly jumped up into bed to claim herside,IswearshewassnoringbeforeIevenmadeitintothebathroom.Iundressed,washedmy face andbrushedmy teethbefore curlingup inbed on my designated side. Remembering my morning meeting inBostonatnine,Isetmyalarmclockforfivea.m.andcollapsedintobed.

Chapter2

The next morning Hayden Grace mumbled greetings as sheshuffledintothekitchenjustpastsix,herblondehairtiedintoasloppybunontopofhead.Sheworelowslungjeans,brownbootsandalightgreencableknitsweaterwithapolostickingoutfromunderneath.Itwasasignaturelookofhers.

“Morning. You’re up early,” I commented shocked by her earlymorningappearancenothavingheardherget readyas I slowlysippedmymorningcoffee.

“Couldn’t sleep…”shesaid,pausing to fixacupofcoffee. Ihadlonggivenup the fight about her drinking coffee at such an early ageanddecidedcoffeedrinkingwasnotoneofthebattlesIwouldwinanddidn’twanttowastemyenergytrying.

“Everythingok?”Iaskedafterseveralquietminutes.

“Coach iswatching today’s practice for the competition rankingson Saturday,” she finally said when she sat down across from me. Inodded inunderstandingandpushedmybagel towardsher,which shequicklygrabbedup.

“Buthethoughtyouhadagoodpracticeyesterday,”Icommented,rememberingthetextonherphone.

“MOM…I hate it when you do that…” she exclaimed with a

mouthfulofbagel.

“At least it’sMomnow…andyouknow the rulesHaydenGrace.Thephonestaysunlocked.Ilookthroughiteverynight,anditchargesin thekitchen, not in your room,” I said in a neutral tone, tryingveryhardnottostartafightsoearlyinthemorningandwithsolittlecaffeineinmysystem.

“Dadandhisstupidrules,”shemumbledwhilerollinghereyes. Iwincedathercomment,hopingshedidn’tseemyreactionbutcontinuedto sit quietly. Several more moments passed before she spoke again.“Yeah, coach said my tricks are getting tighter, and he thinks thisweekend is going to go well for me.” I gave her a slight nod ofencouragementbut secretly cringed inside.Her coachhadbeen sayingthings were ‘going to go well’ for several years now. Don’t get mewrong—Hayden Grace was an excellent rider and at six years oldshowed amazing promise. But something changed when Stefan died.Not suddenly, but gradually. She was still a great rider, but herconcentrationwavered.Sheusedtoridewithsuchpassion,butitseemedtohave fizzledoutandnowshewas justgoing through themotions. Ihadaskedherrepeatedlyoverthelastcoupleofyearsifshestillwantedto ride, and shewasveryvehement that this iswhat shewanted tobedoing.

“Remember,Ihavetoworkonthemountainthisweekendandyourgrandparents are coming up from Long Island to watch yourcompetition.” While I worked a normal job as a senior marketingassociateatUniqueAspectsduringtheweek,ontheweekendsIworked

atMount Sunapee. I had been teaching ski lessons andworking otherodd jobs there since I was eighteen. It was convenient that HaydenGracewas on the snowboarding club there; this allowedme to sneakawayfromlessonseverynowandthentowatch.Likeitornotwewerebothprettywellknownonthemountain;itwasoneofthoseplacesthattrulyfeltlikehome.Butthisparticularweekendwasabigdeal.Thetopthree female and male winners qualified for a larger competition,Regional 6, which was like junior nationals, and that competitionexposed the riders on a national level. The only hitch was that theRegional 6 was in Aspen, Colorado. All of the other competitionsHaydenGracehadcompetedinthusfarwereintheNewHampshireandVermont areas. She had had moderate success at these more localcompetitionsovertheyearsbutstillhadnotmanagedtoqualifyforanynational competitions. So naturally, Regional 6was allHaydenGracetalkedabout. Inactuality, thiswasallsheever talkedabout,andeveryyear at this time she had always been so close to qualifying, placingfourth or fifth the last four years— she was always just out ofcontention. Feeling bad I had to work during such an importantcompetition, Ihadpersuadedmyparents tocomeupandcheerheronwhile I worked just to make sure she felt supported. With thecompetitiongoingon,themountainwasseriouslyshort-staffed,andwecouldreallyusetheextramoney.EventhoughHaydenGraceandIhadalreadytalkedaboutmehavingtowork,Ifoundthatconstantremindersworkedbest.

“DoyouthinkUncleDrewwillcome?”sheaskedbetweenbites.

“I don’t know. He hasn’t called me back. I will try him again

today,”Isaid,andshejustnodded.Drewwasmyyoungerbrotherandafinancialconsultant inNewYork,buthewasHaydenGrace’s favoritepersonafterherfather.

“So, howwas the date last night?…That’s date number three,”HaydenGraceasked,tryingtobecasual.

“Itwasjustokay,”Iansweredhonestly.“WearegoingoutagainonFriday.Caseywillbeheretowatchyou,”Imentionedassherolledhereyesatme,again.

“OnemoreafterFridayandIgettomeethim,”sheremindedme.

“Youarecorrect,”Ireplied,respondingtoHaydenGrace’seyerollwithoneofmyown.IhadmadeadealwithHaydenGraceseveralyearsagowhenIfinallystarteddatingthatIwouldn’tbringanyonehomeuntilwehadbeenon at least five dates. I didn’twant tomakeher life anycrazierthanitalreadywas.SincethenshehasteasedandgossipedandspeculatedaboutmydatesbecauseintheentiretimeIhadbeendating,noonehadevermadeitpastthefifthdate.

“Time to go,” I said, looking at my watch, “you got everythingtogether?” She nodded and pointed at her cup. “I’ll pour it over to atravelmug;gograbyourstuff,”Isaid,takingourmugstothecounter.Shegotupandheadeddownthehallway.

***

“Haveagooddayatschool,”Isaidaswepulledupinfrontofthe

high school.Wewere uncharacteristically early for oncewhich didn’tseem to brightenHaydenGrace’s day at all. Shemumbled somethingunderbreathabouttheabilitytoenjoyhighschoolbeinganimpossibletask.

“I’ll be back fromBoston in time for dinner. IsMadison’smomgoing to bring you home from practice?” She nodded. Madison wasnewertothesnowboardingclubbuthadmadefastfriendswithHaydenGraceandwasaprettygoodtechnicalrider.Sheandherfamilyhadjustmovedtothearea.HermomLisawasabitoverinvolvedinMadison’slife (if you askedme) but was super organized and alwayswilling todriveHaydenGracehome.Madisonhadayounger sister,but shewasvery introverted frommyunderstanding,andherdad traveleda lot forbusiness.ThefriendshiphadbeengoodforHaydenGrace,andLisawasawhizwithacarpoolingschedule.

“Today’s your big presentation isn’t it?” she exclaimed afterseveral moments, bouncing in her seat, and I nodded. “Mom, you’regoingtodojustfine…rememberwhatwetalkedabout.Trynottobeoldandboring—beexcitedandfresh.Youwillnailthosebas…”Iraisedmyeyebrowsatherbeforeshesaidtheword,andshepaused,“youwillnailthoseguystothewall.”

“Thank you,” I said simply trying not to get emotional over herinterest and support.With that she leaned over and gave me a quicksqueezeandakissandthengrabbedherbagsandheadedofftowardsthelarge brick building that read, Newbury High School. I idledmomentarilywatchingherbeforeheadingofftothecity.

***

The commute into Boston from our home in Newbury, NewHampshire, tookabouttwohoursonagoodday.Ihatedthedriveintothe city andwas grateful that I only needed to venture in toBoston acouple of times a month, working from home or from the offices inManchestertherestofthetime.Ithadstoppedsnowingsometimeinthemiddle of the night, and the light accumulation danced along theroadwayasthecarspassedby.Gladthattrafficwaslighttoday,Imadeittotheofficeinrecordtime,allowingmetosetupthepresentationandenjoy my second cup of coffee in silence. My mind raced over mypresentationaspeoplefilteredintotheroomwhilemypalmsstartedtoget sweaty andmyheart raced just a little in anticipation. I nodded inacknowledgmentasTonyandMarksatdownnexttomewithstacksofpaperwork.Todayeachofus,beingthethreeseniorassociates,hadbeentasked to give a presentation on marketing ideas and strategies for awomen’s activewear campaign. It was decided late last week that Iwould go first. Our boss, Gary Thomas, had assigned each of us thisprojecttwoweeksago,placinggreatemphasisonitsimportanceforourjobswithinthecompany.Ihadworkedonthepresentationeveryspareminute I had and still wasn’t sure if it would pass his approval. LastweekIhadbeenworkingonitathomewhenHaydenGracecameintomymakeshift office andwatchedovermy shoulder.She stoodquietlyforalongtimebeforedeclaringthatthepresentationwasoldfashionedandboring.Shethenpointedoutseveralflawsinmycampaign;Istoodbackandlookedatthepresentationthroughherperspectiveanddecidedshewas right. I scrapped the whole been-working-on-it-for-sixty-five-

hoursthingthatnight.ThefollowingnightIsatatthekitchentableandstartedover;HaydenGracejoinedmeatthetabledoingherhomework,lookingoverandchiming in suggestionsorcommentsevery fifteenortwentyminutes.Weworkedthatwayforseveralnightsasmycampaignshaped itself into a much fresher and stronger campaign. I rememberthinking that if snowboarding didn’t work out, Hayden Grace had afutureinmarketing.

***

The three presentations took allmorning, but after lunch the daydraggedonwithaconferencecallandstrategymeeting.Byfour-thirtyIwasreadytohit theroadtotryandgetaheadof therushhourtraffic.JustasIwaspackingupmystuff,Garycalledmeintohisoffice.

“Now Andy, you have been with this company how long?” heaskedfrombehindhis largevintageoakdesk.Had itbeen thirtyyearsearlier, I would have expected him to be smoking a cigar, drinkingwhiskey and maybe even have his feet kicked up on the desk. Butinstead he leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair,smirkinginmydirection.

“Tenyears.”Tenyears I thought tomyself. Ihadstartedwith thecompany in the smallerManchesterofficewhenHaydenGrace startedkindergarten—Iwastwenty-fiveandshewasfive.

“Tenyears, that iswhatI thought.Youare themostseniorof theseniorassociateshereAndy,andIneedyoutostarttakingamoreactive

leadership role. I had you all do these presentations this morningbecauseinrealitywejustlandedahugeaccountwithanup-and-comingsportsandactivewearcompany.Iammakingyoutheleadonthis—yourpresentationthismorningwasfresh,innovativeandyoung.It’sjustwhatthis company needs.” He looked right at me and raised his eyebrowsindicating that this was not up for debate. In the past I had beenoverlooked for these opportunities because of my commute and mycommitmenttoHaydenGrace.IknowthatifIhadbeenmorewillingtomiss more competitions, more practices, more dinners, I might havebeenfurtherinmycareer,butthelittlethingsmatter,andwithStefannotbeingaround Ihad toomuchguilt already for the things Ididhave tomissthatwerebeyondmycontrol.

“Thank you for this opportunity. When do we start?” I asked,hoping I sounded excited, but I felt more terrified than anything. Itwasn’t that Iwasn’tup to thechallenge,becauseIwas,but the timingwashorrible.HaydenGracestillhadfourcompetitionsthisyear,andifshewonanyof themshemighthavemore; I could feel the stressandanxietystartingtobuildasIfidgetedwithmywatch.Maybetheaccountwasstillthirtytosixtydaysbeforebecomingactive,Ithoughttomyself.Itwasn’tunheardofforthecompanytomakethesebigannouncementsyettheprojecttobedelayedbypaperworkorthelegaldepartment.

“TheclientswillbehereMonday,andI’llneedyouinthecityallnext week. This project is going to require some serious time anddedication,and Iknowyouhave theability toput thework in…NowAndy,iftheworkisn’tuptopar,itmightbetimetoseriouslyevaluateyourpositionwiththecompany,”hewarned.“Taketherestoftheweek

off and relax—be ready to have your head in the gameMonday,” hesaid,dismissingmewithawaveofhishand.Myheartwasracing,andIhadapit inmystomachduringmydrivehome. Itwas fantasticnews.Thiswasanopportunityofa lifetime,buthowwas Igoing tobalanceworkandHaydenGrace? Ithad longbeenanunspokenunderstandingthat fromNovember toApril Iwasoftenworking remotely tobalancethecrazypracticeandcompetitionscheduleHaydenGracehad.It’snotthatIdidn’tworkhard,butInevertooktheleadonprojectsbecauseIdidn’t have the time to do it all. I still hadnothing figuredout by thetime I pulled into the driveway back home. Looking at the clock,HaydenGracewasduehomeinaboutthirtyminutes;itwastimetostartdinnerandgetcleanedup,butinsteadIsatdownonthesofatoprocesstheday.WhenHaydenGracewalkedinthedoorIwasstillsittingonthesofainmyworkclothes.

It was almost eight-thirty by the time we sat down to dinner.HaydenGracehadgottenhomefrompracticeandhadrunstraighttoherroom to shower and get cleaned upwhichwasn’t uncommon for her.WhileHaydenGracewascleaningup,ItriedtoclearmyheadsoIcouldpull together a fabulous gourmet meal of salad, rice, carrots and re-heatedchicken.IknewIwasnevergoingtowinany‘cookoftheyear’awardswithmy culinary talents as I looked at the sad options on thetable.WhileIwaswaitingonHaydenGracetoemergefromherroom,myphonerang.

“Andy?”Iheardamalevoicefromtheotherside.

“Yes?”

“It’sRon.”

“Oh,CoachDavis,howareyou?”Iaskedinconfusion.ItwasrarethatRonactuallycalled.IusuallygotdebriefedaboutHaydenGraceontheweekendswhenIwasonthemountain.

“Hayden Grace had a rough practice today. She fell on almosteveryrun—oneofthosefallsscrappedherupprettybadly,”hepausedtolettheinformationsinkin.IthoughtofHaydenGraceandhowquicklyshehadrushedinstraighttoherroom.

“Ihaven’tseenheryet;shewentstraighttoherroom,”Iconfessedafteramoment.

“Andy, shehasmoreGod-given talent thanmostof theboys andgirls we have here, but there is something keeping her back,” heexclaimed,raisinghisvoiceinfrustration.

“Iknow.”

“Despitetheperformancetoday,I’mgoingtoputherintheline-upthisweekendbecauseI’mnotreadytogiveuponher.Maybeyoucantalk toherandseewhat’sgoingon.Shehadagreatpractice theotherday,buttodaywasthepolaropposite.”

“Iunderstand.Iwilltalktoher.Ireallyappreciateyoucallingwithyourconcerns.”

“You’rewelcome,”hepaused,“…howareyoudoing,Andy?”heaskedafteramoment.RonandIhadknowneachotheraverylongtime.HewasmakingwavesonthemountainasasnowboardingtalentwhenI

waseighteen.Weevendatedashortwhile,butthenhegotinjured,andImet Stefan.We have remained friends, and he always looked out forHaydenGrace.

“Thingsaregood,”Ilied.Rondidn’tneedtoknowaboutthestressandanxiety.Hewas justbeingpolite,andIdidn’tneedtoburdenhimwithmylifeproblems.

“That’sgood,”hereplied,leavinganawkwardpause.IcouldhearHaydenGracecomingdownthehallway.

“Ron,she’scoming.I’lltalktoyoulater,”Isaidanddisconnectedquicklywithoutgivinghimachancetosayanythingfurther.Whensherounded thecorner Icould immediatelysee thescratchesonhercheckandablackeyestartingtoformonherlefteye.

“Ohhoney,”Isaid,rushingtohertoexamineherfurther.

“Mom,it’snobigdeal,”shesaid,tryingtopushmeaway.

“Youknowbetter,”Isaid, takingacloserlook.Satisfiedwithmyexamination,Iwenttothefreezerandmadeupasmallbagofice.

“Whowasonthephone?”sheasked,takingaseatatthetable.

“CoachDavis.”

“Hethoughtpracticewasthatbadthathecalledyou?”shesoundedsurprisedandhurt.

“Hewasworriedaboutyourinjuriesandjustwantedtoupdateme,”I said as a half-truth. “What was going on up there today?” I asked,handingherabagoficeandadishtowelforhereye.

“What’s this for?” she asking, holdingup thedishtowelwith twofingers.

“Towraparoundthebagofice,”Isaidwithexasperation.

“Oh.”

“Themountain?”Iasked,bringingherbacktotheissueathand.

“Idon’tknow…”shesaid,strugglingwithherwords.Iknewbetterthantopushherandinsteadsatdinnerdowninfrontofherandwaited.“Iwasjustoverthinkingit,”shefinallysaid.

“Wasthatall?”Iasked.Hersayingshewas‘overthinkingit’wasagenericresponse.Shestoppedwhatshewasdoingandlookedupatme.We had a stare down; the fact that she only had one good eye didnothingtodeterme.Neitherofuswantedtobethefirsttotalkaboutthewhite elephant in the room. Finally, unable to keep up the staringcontest,shelookeddownatherfood.

“ImissDad…Iwanthimtobetherewithmesobadly,”shefinallywhispered.

“Oh honey, we both miss him very much,” I whispered backputting downmy fork and coming around the table to squat down infrontofher.Irestedmyhandsonherknees.“Youneedtoknowheisalwayswithyou,”Isaid,andasmalltearsliddownhercheek.

“Doyouthinkhe’sproudofme?”sheaskedasmoretearswelledupinhereyes.

“HaydenGrace,ofcoursehe’sproudofyou.Youweretheloveof

hislife,andyoucontinuetogrowintoabeautifulyoungwoman,”Isaid,wrapping her into a hug. She dropped the ice and leaned down andhuggedme back, crying intomy shoulder.Mollywho had been lyingunderthetablecameoverandwhinedatthesightofus,lickingbothourfaces causing us to laugh. The moment was so touching, yet it wasbreakingmyheart.

“Comeon,”Isaidafteralongmoment,grabbingherhand.HaydenGracehesitatedbutgotupasIledheroutontothebackporch.Thecoldnightairwascrispcausingusbothtoshiver.Themoonlightbouncedoffofthesnowwhichwascoveredinathinlayerofice,makingitlooklikeglassandilluminatingthebackyard.Mollyboundeddownofftheporchandfrolickedinthecrunchysnow.

“Look up,” I told her, and she obediently gazed up into the sky.“Whatdoyousee?”

“Themoon,thestars,thedarksky,”sheresponded.

“Okay,focusonthestars,”Isaid,andIcouldtellshewaslookingatthemintently.

“RememberwhatItoldyourightafterwefoundoutthatDadhadpassed away?Whenever you miss him, look up and know he’s thereamong the stars lookingdownonus,” Iquietlycommentedasa smallhitchdevelopedinmythroat.

“Whataboutduringtheday?”shewhisperedwhilenotbreakingherstarewiththestars.

“The starsarealways theredayandnight. Justbecauseyoucan’t

see themduring thedaydoesn’tmean theyaren’t there. Just likeDad,you can’t see him or touch him, but he’s always there…he’s alwayscheeringyouon,”Iwhisperedasthetearsfelldownmycheeks,causingmetoquicklywipethemawaysoHaydenGracewouldn’tsee.

“CanItalktohim?”

“Idoallthetime,”Isaid,andshelookedupatmewithquestionsinhereyes.

“I knowhe canhearme, andwhen I look at the stars, I feel likehe’stalkingback,”Isaid,lookingupatthetwinklingstarbursts.

“Okay,”shesaidandlookedup.

“Okay.”

“Mom,”shesaidafteramoment.

“Yes?”

“CanIhaveamoment…alone…withDad,”sheaskedshyly.

“Ofcourse,” I said in surprise.“Molly, come,” Icalledout to theretriever thatwasnowrollingin thesnow.MollyandIsteppedinside,and I watchedHaydenGrace as she walked to the edge of the porchlooking up. I could see her talking, but I wasn’t sure what she wassaying.The tears flowed freelydownmycheeksover theheartbreak Iwas feeling forHaydenGrace. I could livewithmyown heartbreak Ithought,butherpainfeltasifitwasgoingtosuffocateme.AfterseveralminutesHaydenGraceturnedtocomebackinside,andIquicklymademyselfbusyatthekitchencounter.

“Mom?”sheasked,andIturnedaround.

“Yes.”

“Iloveyou,”shesaidandembracedmeinabighug.

“Iloveyoutoo.”

Chapter3

Thatevening,afterHaydenGracefinallywenttobed,Ilayinbedconstantlyrepeatingtheevening’sconversationandeventsinmyhead.Unable to sleep, an idea started to form, and I crept up into the attic.Being an old house, the attic had a full set of stairs thatwere hiddenbehindaclosetdoorinthehallway.TheycreakedloudlyasIascended;at the topstair Ifumbledforthe lightswitch.Oncethe lightsflickeredon it tookmy eyes amoment to adjust to the dim and crowded atticspace. It had only been a short while since I had been up here, buteverything remained the same—dust and cobwebs collected on theboxes and old furniture that was arranged in the far corner. Variousholidaydecorationswere stackedclosest to thedooras thosewere themostfrequentlyuseditemsstoreduphere.SomeofHaydenGrace’stoysfromherchildhoodpokedoutofboxeswhichwerepilednexttoawidearray of dated snowboard and ski equipment. I scanned the attic for ahuntergreenfootlockerandeventuallylocatedittowardsthebackoftheattic next to a clothing rack thatwas covered in plastic to protect thegarments thathungonit. Icouldhear thepitterpatterofpawsandthejingle ofMolly’s collar behindme as shemadeherwayup the stairs.Shesniffedaroundatall theboxesasIdraggedthefootlockeroutintotheopenspace.

Itwasalarge,vintagemetalfootlockerandinblackpaintonthelidwasscrawled,CPTSTEFANPARKER.Isighedandsankdownnextto

the solid case. I ranmyhandacross thedusty lidwhichcausedme tocoughslightly.Mollymadeherwayoverandsmelledthetrunkbeforewhining slightly and lying down next tome—she remembered too. Ithadbeensixyears,butitstillfeltlikeyesterday.Itwasadaythatwillalwaysbeetchedintomymemory.ItwasawarmSaturdayinApril,andthankfully,HaydenGracewasatherfriend’shouseforasleepover;shewasnine.Iwashomealonewithathentwo-year-oldMolly,attemptingto make carrot cake cupcakes for Easter the next day. Molly startedbarking and pacing at the front door before the doorbell even rang. Irememberrushingtowashmyhands,notwantingwhoeverwastheretowait. The second I opened the door and saw their faces, I knew. Thenotifyingofficerandchaplainintroducedthemselvesandescortedmetothe sofa. They spoke a lot about honor, service and country—I don’trememberthedetails,butIdorememberwhentheofficerreachedoverandputhishandonmyarmandsaid‘hediedsavingalife’.

‘Ofcourse,hedid,’Iremembermumbling;itwassoStefan.

I thought itwaspainful learning thatmyhusbandhaddiedwhileservinghiscountry,butnothingcomparedto tellingHaydenGrace thenext day. By the time she had arrived back at the house from thesleepovermyparentsandyoungersister,Jennifer,whowasstillinhighschool,hadalreadydrivenupfromMarylandwheretheywerelivingatthe time. My brother Drew was getting ready to graduate from lawschoolandwasinthemiddleofpreparingforexamssohewouldn’tbeabletomakeitforanotherdayortwo.Mydadwasclosetoretiringafterspendingthirty-fiveyearsinthearmy.Outofeveryonetherethatdayheunderstoodmorethananyofusdid;heneversaidawordtome.Instead

he justgavemeabighugandheldmewhile Icried.He later toldmethatadaylikethatwasadayhedreadedthemostformymom,sister,brotherandme—hethoughtaboutiteverysingledayofhistimeintheservice.IhadcalledandaskedStefan’sparents tocomeover,but theypreferredtostayathomeandgrieve.

WhenHaydenGraceenteredthehouseshewasanormalnine-year-old girl worried about braces and obsessedwithHannahMontana—itbrokemyheart thatIwasabout tochangethat.Iaskedher to takeherthingstoherroomandthentocomesitwithmeonthebackporch.Shefussed a little that she wanted to see Grams and Grandpa but finallyagreed.WesatinsilencefortenminutesbeforeIworkedupthecouragetospeak.WhenIfinallytoldherthatherdaddyhadbeenhurtwhilehewasawayandwouldn’tbecomingback,shecried.Atfirstshewouldn’tletmehugherandinsteadrantothecorneroftheporchwithsuchangerinhereyes.Whenshefinallysunktoherkneesshaking,Iwentoverandengulfedherintoahug,andshewouldn’tletgoforhours.Itwasn’tuntilshefinallyfellasleep,stillhuggingmyneck,thatIwasabletoputherdown.

WithareluctantsighIopenedthefootlocker.Itnowcarriedmostlysentimental items and memorabilia of Stefan, most of which I wassaving for HaydenGrace. I had long ago given away his clothes andmanypersonaleffectstohisparentsandbrothersandsisters.Hewasjustasmuchapartof their livesashewasours. I rifled through the itemswhen I cameacross several letters.Theywere labeled ‘16’, ‘18’, ‘21’,‘WeddingDay’and‘TheBigWin’.Ihadhiddentheminthefootlockerknowing Hayden Grace never ventured into the attic. She had a very

practicalfearofeverythingthatinvolvedthedark,cobwebs,spidersand‘creepy’thingsassheoncetoldme.Isettheenvelopelabeled‘TheBigWin’ to the side and put the rest of the envelopes back as they eachawaitedaspecifictimeinHaydenGrace’slife.Stefanhadwrittenlettersto Hayden Grace before his first deployment in case something everhappened.He gave them tome to keep safe andmademe promise towaitforeachoccasion.AfterhissecondtourIthoughtIwouldbeabletothrowthemallawayashewouldbearoundtotellherinperson,butthenhegotcalledforathirdtourandhenevercamehome.

Next, I came across a letter I knew all too familiarly. It was allcreased from being unfolded and refolded a million times. I recalledfinally having to put the letter up in storage because I was reading iteverynight,andinsteadoftryingtoliveinthepresent,Iwasrelivingthepast.SlowlyunfoldingtheletterIhesitatedamomentbutthenrealizeditdidn’tmatterbecauseIhad longmemorizedeachline; thankfully itnolongerevokedthesametorrentofemotionthatitoncehadonme.

DearAndrea,

Ifyouarereadingthisletter,I’msosorry.Itwasneversupposedtoendthiswaybutwebothunderstoodthesacrificesitmighttake.

Wordscannotexpresshowmuchmylifewithyouhasmeanttome.You brought memeaning, hope and love. Then you gave me thegreatest gift of all, the gift of being a dad.My lifewith you andHaydenGracehasbeenthegreatestjoyinlife.

Icanonlyimaginehowhardthiswillbeonbothofyou.Iknowyouarestrongandcan live through thepain– Ialways toldyou thatyouwerethetougherParker.ButHaydenGraceissoyoung;Ifearthismightbreakhertenderspirit.Pleaseletherknowthatshewasandalwayswill bemy littlegirl,and Iamandalwayswillbe soveryproudofher.

ThereisnothingmoreIhavetosaythatwehaven’talreadysaidorvowedtoeachother.KnowthatIlovedyoumorethanmyownlife,andyounowdeservetheloveandhappinessofsomeonethattrulyunderstandsyouforyou.

Lookformeinthestarsasalways.Iwillbetherelookingdownonbothofyou.

Love,Stefan

TearsstreameddownmycheeksasIcarefullyfoldertheletterbackup. Flashes ofmemories fromourwedding floodedmy thoughts. Thesadness thatcrept throughmewasdifferent than thesadness that I feltsixyearsago; thissadnesswasbearable. InowknewlifewouldgoonandthathewastruetohiswordbecauseIhadalreadyfelthimamongthe stars.Next in the trunkwas a pieceof college ruledpaper labeled‘Rules’. This one brought a smile to my face although it often madeHayden Grace very grumpy. It was a list of rules for both of us, butmostly for Hayden Grace in his absence. It hung on the refrigerator

duringhislasttourandstayedtherefornearlytwoyearsafterhisdeath.Itwasn’tuntilHaydenGracefinallyaskedme to take itdownthatwemovedit.

Again, even though Ihad this listmemorized, I couldn’thelpbutreadthroughit.

HaydenGrace:Rule1–Nodatinguntilyou’re18.Rule2–No cell phones in your roomatnight, nopasswordswedon’tknow.Rule3–Noboysinyourroom.Rule4–Nostayinghomealoneuntilyou’re16.Rule5–Whenyoudrive,bothhandsonthewheelatalltimes.Rule6–Schoolisimportant–AsandBsareexpected.Rule7–Choresareamust–mowthelawn,cleanthehouse,dothelaundry–yougettheidea.Rule 8 – Don’t fight with your mother. (She said that is notrealistic) Talk to your mother. There is no room for secrets anddon’tbottlethingsupinside.Rule9–Remembertosayplease, thankyouandyou’rewelcome.Showrespecttothosearoundyou.Rule10–Loveunconditionallynomatterwhocomesintoyourlife(thisoneisREALLYimportant).

Andy:Rule1–Takeadeepbreath,havepatience.Rule 2 – Don’t forget to ask for help, you don’t have to do this

alone.Rule3–Findhappinesseveryday.

Rule3wasmuchharderthanStefancouldbelieve,butIwasslowlyworkingonit,IthoughttomyselfasIputthe‘Rules’backinthetrunk.Scanningthetrunk,Ifinallyspotted thecornerofthesmallplasticbagof patches I was looking for and gave it a big tug, causing a smallavalancheofitems.Whentheslightcloudofdustsettled,Iexaminedthebaggie.TheywerepatchesthathadeitherbeenonStefan’suniformsorextraswaiting to be added. I grabbed twopatches and set them to thesidewiththeletter.Itookacoupleofextraminutestosortthroughtherestof the itemsbefore finallyclosing the lidandpushing itback intoplace. After gathering the few items off of the ground, Molly and Ifinallymadeourwaybackdownstairs.

Once downstairs I quietly crept into Hayden Grace’s room insearchofhersnowboardingjacket.Stoppingonlymomentarilytocheckon her eye and otherminor injuries and assessing that shewas fine, Icontinuedmysearch.Findingthewhiteandblackjacketonthegroundby her closet door covered by anotherwinter jacket and at least threepairsofvariouscoloredjeans,Icreptbackoutoftheroom,tryingnottowakeher.Sittingonthesofawhilealatenighttalkshowbuzzedinthebackground, I slowly stitched the twopatches into the inside liningofherjacket.Finished,Iheldituptoviewmyhandiwork.Thefirstpatchwas one that was in the traditional digital camouflage fabric—arectanglewithblackstitchingthatread‘PARKER’andthesecondwasthe United States flag. Of everything that was on his uniforms, these

weretheonesIthoughtHaydenGracewouldrememberthemost.Proudofbothmyideaandmyhandiwork,IfinallyheadedtobedonlytofindMollyhadalreadybeatenmethere.