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“I’ll take good care of him,” Michelle said. “And I’ll ride him whenever I can. I’ve been thinking about getting back into riding.”

I smiled at her pronouncement. Because I’d been thinking about getting into writing again, too. It seemed as much as things changed in life, some things remained the same. There was comfort in that.

The next day, Michelle and I emptied our room, packed our suitcases in the Volvo, and drove away for the summer. I dropped Michelle off at her aunt’s, and we chatted a bit as Darlene stuffed us with pastries. Then I finished the remainder of the drive on my own.

When I got home, my dad and Barbara and Grandma Mackie were all waiting for me. Barbara had made a big dinner in my honor since I’d somehow finished the year with a 4.4 weighted GPA. Not knowing exactly how to tell them that Paris was on again, I wore my beret to the table.

“Uh-oh, it’s the return of the beret,” Barbara said when I walked into the dining room.

“Oh no,” my dad said. “You didn’t get a blue streak in your hair this time, did you?”

“What would you say if I told you it was blue, white, and red?”

“Huh?” my dad said.

“You know, the colors of the French flag?” He eyed me suspiciously, so I told them about getting the scholarship back.

Silence followed until my Grandma Mackie began to clap. Then Barbara followed suit. My dad was outnumbered. He had no choice but to join in.

“Here’s the deal,” he said after the applause died down. “You’re going to Paris in the fall, but before you do, I own you. You’re going to get all your college applications in before you leave. You’re going to crack open that SAT book once a day. You’re going to work for me part-time making deliveries in the Volvo. And you are only going to wear that stupid beret on Bastille Day, got it?”

I laughed and nodded. “Got it.”

We finished our meal, and I helped Barbara with the dishes, then we all sat out on the deck and watched the first fireflies emerge from the ground. Grandma and I chatted in the den until I got sleepy, then I said good night and headed up for bed. But I couldn’t fall asleep right away. I was too excited about next year.

I sat in bed, flipping through a Parisian travel guide. My fingers swept across a map of the different arrondissements, stopping on sites I wanted to see: the Musée D’Orsay, Sacré-Coeur, the Tuileries, the Opera House. I’d study French literature and Gothic architecture, maybe even French cooking. And the best thing was, I’d learn how to be on my own. But I wouldn’t be lonely. Owen and Flynn would come visit, and Elise would be there, too. Even though we weren’t exactly best friends, I was pretty sure Elise had my back.

I must have dozed off because at some point I found myself on the beach, walking across the dunes and toward the stretch of water where my mother drowned. Only I wasn’t a child this time, and I no longer felt afraid. The ocean was calm and serene, and I walked to the shoreline without difficulty.

My mother looked back at me once, her beautiful hair billowing in the moonlight, and then she dove into the water, disappearing peacefully into the silvery waves. I felt no need to go after her. She had broken free. Or maybe I had finally let her go.

I woke a little before dawn. But I knew I’d never get back to sleep. Instead, I threw on running clothes and took a quick glance at myself in the mirror. The red streak was almost gone, grown out and faded. But Hester’s influence on me would never be forgotten.

Just like my mother’s. Even though she was gone, I knew that whenever I needed her, I could call on her. Sort of like prayer. I wasn’t entirely sure if God existed or where to find him if he did. He was part of a universe I couldn’t see or touch. But I had to believe in some things even if I couldn’t prove their existence. Like God. Magic. Love.

The sun was rising steadily as I ran across the beach, heading toward the lighthouse. Once there, I climbed out onto the rocks below it and stood with my back to the sun, my face toward the ocean, which as always, reminded me of Gray.

Were Gray and I destined to be star-crossed lovers, I wondered, forever separated like Hester and Dimmesdale?

The more I experienced of life, the more I realized that destiny was a myth. Hester didn’t crumble and fall apart after Dimmesdale died on that scaffold. She summoned her strength, moved with Pearl to Europe, and started life over again. She made a decision to keep on living.

Love itself was a decision. And if Gray and I really loved each other, we would stay together because we wanted to, not because it was written in the stars. Being with Gray wasn’t my destiny but my choice.

I glanced up at the lighthouse, its beacon a steady source of comfort for all those waiting for someone to come home. The sky was pink with sunrise, clouds forming on the horizon. I tried not to think of that old sailor’s proverb.

Instead I imagined Gray somewhere boundless and blue. And I stood on that rock and put one more wish out into the universe.

A Touch of Scarlet
Playlist

Music is a huge part of both my writing process and the world of my books. In
A Touch of Scarlet,
several of the characters sing, play instruments, even write their own music. And the big finale of the book—the alternative prom that Emma and her friends organize—is a bit unconventional in that the guests provide their own entertainment by singing karaoke!

While I was writing
A Touch of Scarlet,
I created a playlist of songs that either feature specifically in the book or set the mood for a particular scene. If you haven’t read the book yet, be wary, as there are a few spoilers ahead. To hear the playlist online, please visit the Links & Extras page of my website : evemariemont.com/extras.html.

“Falling Off the Face of the Earth” by Matt Wertz

The lyrics of this song perfectly echo Emma’s and Gray’s feelings as they spend their last night together before Gray leaves for the Coast Guard.

“Dream On” by Aerosmith

Michelle plays this song in the dorm on the first day back at school. Not only does Michelle love classic rock, but the lyrics are appropriate, too, as they deal with letting go of the past and moving on—an important theme in the book. The song is also about the power of dreams, which guide Emma on her path to self-discovery.

“They” by Jem

This song captures the hardships of living under peer pressure and making decisions based on an arbitrary set of rules dictated by the popular crowd. I always associate the “they” of the title with Elise and her friends.

“You Will Leave a Mark” by A Silent Film

I have no idea what this song is actually about, but I modeled “Capsized Heart” (the song Owen writes) on this song. I also think Owen would sound just like A Silent Film’s lead singer.

“Where I Stood” by Missy Higgins

This song captures the insecurities and doubts that cause Gray to break up with Emma. It also seems to speak of Gray’s regret when he sees Emma with Owen on New Year’s Day.

“Mr. Suit” by Wire

Both the lyrics and the fast-driving rhythms of this punk song reflect Flynn’s rebellious, bad-boy attitude. I imagine him playing this song at the cast party in the garden after
The Crucible
.

“Clubbed to Death” by Rob Dougan

While this song has no lyrics, the music is powerful and dark and would make an excellent soundtrack to Emma’s travels in search of the witch caves. I imagine her listening to this song on her iPod as she runs through the woods.

“You Can’t Escape Them” by Weaver at the Loom

This song is about living in fear and trying to break through the doors that hem us in. I associate it with Michelle’s attempts to face the truth about herself.

“Run” by Snow Patrol

Emma dances with Owen to this song at the Depot, but the lyrics remind her of Gray, thus ruining what could have been a romantic moment.

“Ready to Start” by Arcade Fire

This song plays while Emma drives her dad’s Volvo back to school after spring break. Even though the lyrics are somewhat strange and ambiguous, the chorus makes me think of Emma’s newfound confidence and independence.

“A Kind of Hope” by Pilot Speed

This song plays after Gray returns to Emma and they drive into Waverly Falls; it has a great energy that mirrors Emma’s hopes for a reconciliation.

Songs Sung Karaoke-Style at the Alternative Prom

“Sympathy for the Devil” by the Rolling Stones

I picture Flynn kicking off the karaoke night by singing this song in a British accent and dancing around onstage doing Mick Jagger’s rooster strut.

“We Are Young” by fun. and “When You Were Young” by the Killers

These two songs, as their titles suggest, are about being young and living in the moment, but they both have an undercurrent of sadness and regret. Perfect for prom night, right?

“Gravity” by Sara Bareilles

The lyrics of this song speak of wanting to free oneself from another’s “gravity.” Emma sometimes feels this way about Gray, knowing she should move on but feeling helpless to do so.

“Count on Me” by Bruno Mars

I knew Emma had to get onstage at the prom and sing a karaoke song for Owen, but I struggled with which song to choose. I went through several possibilities, but all the songs about being sorry seemed dated or too melodramatic. So I began looking at friendship songs instead, and this one seemed perfect—sweet but not too sappy.

“Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division

Flynn sings a haunting version of this song while Emma stands on the sidelines at the prom, watching all her friends dance and realizing she’s going to be just fine on her own.

Final Song

“I Will Follow You into the Dark” by Death Cab for Cutie

I imagine this bittersweet song playing “over the credits” as Emma stands beneath the lighthouse thinking about Gray and wondering what the future holds.

The Unbound trilogy comes to a breathtaking finale in Eve Marie Mont’s

A PHANTOM ENCHANTMENT

Read on for a special sneak preview and, like Emma, get lost in a good book . . . literally!

What struck me first as we left the airport and got onto the highway was how all cities look alike, to a certain extent. Somehow I’d been expecting Paris to beguile me from the moment the plane touched down, but as we followed a trash truck through sluggish traffic, passing railroad tracks and gas stations and graffitied buildings, I began to feel I’d been duped by Hollywood.

Even when we entered the city limits, the landscape still mirrored urban America with its MoneyGram and telecom shops, ethnic takeout places, characterless office buildings, and of course, the omnipresent McDonald’s. It was all a bit disheartening.

Until we went below an underpass somewhere around Gare du Nord. Then it was as if some mystical creature had waved her magic wand and commanded that everything from that point on be enchantingly beautiful. Unlike American cities, which were vertical, modern, and masculine, Paris was old, ornate, and sprawling, like a queen on a divan with no other purpose than to delight her own senses. Each corner was bedecked with some sign of the city’s history—a church, a statue, an obelisk—and I wanted to stop at them all to find out what they signified.

Elise told me we weren’t far from Montmartre. From this vantage point, I couldn’t see anything, but in my mind I envisioned Sacré-Coeur’s alabaster domes rising up against the blue sky, saw the painted ladies of Lapin Agile, squinted at the neon lights of Moulin Rouge. I wanted to pinch myself.

Here was quintessential Paris—the ivory stone buildings with wrought-iron balconies and window boxes full of flowers, their mansard rooftops gilded by the sun. We came to a giant circle bustling with people, and then Monsieur Crespeau took one of the narrow avenues that spiderwebbed off it. Each road was tree-lined and flanked by rows of buildings, houses, shops, cafés. One building was so delicate and narrow I wondered how it didn’t topple over. Another building in a wedge shape looked like a slice of wedding cake.

For the first time since I’d signed the scholarship forms, I began thinking of this trip as more than just a notch in my ré-sumé.

Paris was going to be an adventure.

We came to yet another circle with a statue of an armed woman in the middle, and then Monsieur Crespeau mumbled something, I think “Tout proche” or “Very near.” I glanced up at a street sign and saw we were on Boulevard du Temple, a broad thoroughfare that separated the 3rd and 11th arrondissements. Along this road, we passed dozens of cafés, patisseries, boulangeries, charcuteries—all of them with brightly colored awnings and outdoor tables beckoning you to sit down and relax, have a bite, stay a while. I’d never seen more eating establishments in one city block. My grandma was right—food did seem to make the Parisian world go round.

I could see the July Column of the Bastille up ahead, so I knew we were almost there, and then we turned on Rue Saint-Antoine, and Monsieur Crespeau nodded at a building about three storefronts wide and five stories high, but otherwise resembling every other building we’d seen except for its arched blue doorway.

“Voici,” he said.

He pulled the van onto a tiny alleyway off Rue Saint-Antoine and parked in a small space reserved for the school. We got out, and Monsieur Crespeau told us he’d bring our luggage directly to our rooms so we could report directly to Mademoiselle Veilleux, the head of the school, in the administrative building across the quad. When I insisted we could carry our own bags, he waved us off with his enormous hand and sent us on our way.

Elise and I were staring at a stone wall with a massive iron gate, but all we could see through its slats were narrow little trees. But then Monsieur Crespeau opened the gate, and we walked into an immense courtyard with tennis courts, green lawns, cobbled squares, and manicured walking paths. Who would have thought that tucked hidden away in the middle of Paris was this dream of a campus?