Cornerstone (34 page)

I don’t ask what that might be. Because I know what is next for me already.

I look down at my own hands. There is no sling. No Cornerstone. I search my palm, but the Impression there is light and incomplete. The war has still come, neither aided nor prevented by my hands.

“I lost the stone.” I whisper.

“No, no.” The Addo hushes me. “Never lost.”

He produces the Cornerstone from his palm like a magic trick.

“I need to finish.” I tell him holding out my hand.

“It’s up to you, kiddo. The pain will be severe this time, since the process was interrupted.” Addo warns. “But it is solely your decision.”

“I don’t really have a choice.” I tell him. “I have to do something.”

“Everything is a choice, Kiddo, and there are all kinds of lives worth living.” He places the Cornerstone on the bed beside me. “It’s just up to us to make them that way.”

He pats my knee before hobbling out of the room. He closes the door, leaving Garrett and I together, alone.

As I reach for the stone, Garrett takes my hand. He turns my palm upward, bending his head so the soft strands of his hair dust my skin. His tears drop onto my fingers. He leaves a warm kiss in my palm.

I lay the Cornerstone on top, sealing his touch to my skin, forever.

After losing my literary agent, I decided not to re-query my work, but instead to let Cornerstone go into the world and find its readership. There are so many people to thank for helping me get to this point:

Wild applause for my husband, Pook, who stayed up all night to win me the used laptop that I didn’t think I wanted, for Christmas. I am so lucky to be your wife. Oh, and I love you more.

Love and admiration to my parents, Kim & Lou, who
always
answer the call. Always. I love you, Mom and Dad.

Hugs to my Out-Laws, Sharon, for reading and cheering, and for Dick, who said so genuinely—as if he were talking about the make of my shoes—“You’re a writer. Always have been.” Oh, and red hot pulsating thighs, PA.

Warm fuzzies to my Patti, who is always there with her thoughtfulness and her good sense, and my Debbie, who smiles when she’s gagging right beside me, and the rest of my ‘other’ family, who have taken us in. I love you guys.

Smiles to Kaitlin, Sarah and Lauren who sat in the camper and listened and said they wanted to keep reading. You don’t know how much that kept me going.

Mad props to my fav ninja, Shelby, who sat on my couch and wouldn’t move until she’d read the entire book. Every squeal gave an angel it’s wings.

Wild thanks to Cait, who didn’t know me but for a few minutes and jumped in to lend a hand and try to tame my formatting nightmare. You are what we should all be made of.

Thank you to Glendon, at Streetlight Graphics, who kept returning my call and playing tag and said, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll get this figured out.’ If every business was as helpful and professional as Glendon’s, customers would have a hard time choosing where to spend their money. Thanks for making it easy, Glendon.

There are too many people to list, who touch my life and improve on it each day by reaching out with both their knowledge and encouragement. I know who you are and I’m grateful. Thank you.

Thanks to everyone on the blog and on Twitter who reached out to carry a stranger on their shoulders. You have changed my view of the world forever. I hope this book finds you and brings you the joy you have brought me.

~A sneak peek at the tantalizing second book in the Cornerstone Series~

It’s easy to pick up the Cornerstone.

It’s easy to be brave.

Easy to be sure that I want to be an
us.

Really…it’s easy to be anything, since I’m numb.

At least it seems easy until the first white-hot streak of pain blazes up my arm and all the numb goes up in flames.

The stone gives one massive throb in my palm, like a heart beat or a drum beat or the last beat right before blast off—and then the pain shoots up to my shoulder, like my skin is being hollowed out with a poker. I stop the scream by snapping my jaw shut on the edge of my tongue. I taste blood.

Garrett’s face floats above me like a beautiful, worried balloon.

“All you have to do is hang on.” he says. His voice is calm as I struggle to keep my own mouth clamped shut. I don’t want to scream in his face. I swallow the blood. “Just hang on, like Addo said.”

I try to riffle back through what the Addo had said hours ago. Once I’d picked up the stone, Addo had eased himself back down onto the edge of the opposite bed to explain what would happen during re-Impressioning. He groaned as he adjusted the sling on his arm and I gripped the stone tighter. The broken teeth and the bruises that splashed across his face made his smile look excruciating.

“Not gonna lie, kiddo. Re-Impressioning is miserable stuff.” he said. I should’ve paid attention to how Garrett squeezed my hand a little then, but I was too busy watching how the bruises swirled around the Addo’s lips. I was trying to imagine the people that’d put them there, the same people who my father probably called friends.

“The stone always wipes the slate clean.” The Addo had continued. Every word made him wince a little. “No matter what’s there, the stone is going to start fresh. Since the ground work of your enhanced nervous system is already there from your first attempt, the pain this time around will be enhanced too. And by pain, kiddo, I mean it’ll be like swallowing tacks. The only thing I can tell you is to just hang in there. At least, you got the odds going in your favor.”

“Odds?” I’d asked. The Addo closed his mouth then and his voice popped into the back of my head.

Everything comes with risks, kiddo.

You mean I could die.
I didn’t know if I even cared, but I wanted to know. I projected my question back to him as carefully as I could, but he still flinched with it.

Sure, sure…but you could just as easily go belly up choking on half a peanut, couldn’t you? I mean, there’s always odds to anything, but what’s the odds that you’d be attacked by, say, a rabid dingo?

Ok.
I’d shrugged.
So what are my odds, Addo?

Oh, percentages…bah! You can figure a percentage any which way, really…

But if we were talking about a whole cookie,
I looked him in the eyes and his swollen eyelids seemed to droop a little more.
How much of it would be the chance I have of not dying?

I saw the sad sigh escape him. He groaned and clutched a rib.

A few bites, kiddo.
His voice whispered in my skull.
But don’t you underestimate the bites. It’s still way better odds than no cookie at all.

I stopped thinking of questions and just nodded.

I stacked up Addo’s words, tied them in bundles, and pushed them right to the back of my head. There wasn’t much room for anything else inside me anyway. Anything besides,
my mom died, Garrett is here, my mom is gone…I am here
.