Detailing yesterday's events down to her exhausted collapse into bed alone at nearly six that morning, she had to agree with Amber. How far she'd come in the space of a few hours. For the first time, she felt no urge to flip back to the beginning of the journal. No desperate desire to seek some sort of cathartic transformation by rereading the pain and horror of her unexpected loss a year ago. And in yet another first in months, her heart felt light and thoughts of what was still to come replaced those of what might have been.

Christie put the white leather bound book aside and examined the...