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Zusatztext Praise for Vicki Lane “Like [Sharyn] McCrumb! Lane demonstrates how deeply she feels part of her Appalachian home! how tied she is to the land the pulsating beats that can’t be found elsewhere.”— Los Angeles Times “Vicki Lane writes of Appalachia as if she’d been driving up our hills and through our hollows her whole life.”—Margaret Maron “A master at creating authentic details while building suspense.”— Asheville Citizen-Times “Vicki Lane is one of the best American novelists writing today.”—Deborah Crombie Informationen zum Autor Vicki Lane is the author of The Day of Small Things, Signs in the Blood, Art’s Blood, Old Wounds, and the Anthony Award finalist In a Dark Season . She lives with her family on a mountain farm in North Carolina, where she is at work on her next novel. Klappentext In this haunting tale from the heart of Appalachia! Vicki Lane draws together past and present! good and evil! folklore and secrets! mesmerizing readers with the mysterious bond of true sisterhood-richer than blood! stronger than the passage of time. Elizabeth Goodweather and her city-girl sister! Gloria! couldn't be more different. Elizabeth lives on a farm in the Great Smoky Mountains. Gloria lives in Florida off an ex-husband's fortune. Gloria is a beauty; Elizabeth isn't. Now! to Elizabeth's intense displeasure! Gloria parks herself at Full Circle Farm! on the run from her latest man! who! she insists! is trying to kill her. Elizabeth thinks this is just another of her sister's fantasies. Besides! Elizabeth has her wedding to plan-if only she can overcome her fear that the man who already shares her life may not be what he appears to be. At this precarious crossroads! the sisters must turn to each other-or face a lifetime of consequences. Chapter 1 A Complicated Person Tuesday, May 8 I should have known Gloria would come up with something like this right before our wedding. It’s just like her. I swear, she’s …” … crazy as the proverbial shithouse rat were the words on the tip of my tongue but I bit them back. Without looking up from the paperback he was reading, Phillip made a questioning sort of sound. “Hmm? … What was that, Lizabeth? Gloria’s what?” I dropped the phone onto the table and glowered at it as if it were responsible for this new and unwelcome twist in my life. “She’s … complicated,” I hedged, rejecting the coarse country phrase, apt though it might be. “Complicated—which is a polite way of saying I don’t understand her at all. She must be—” I couldn’t go on. But the voice in my head, never at a loss for words, finished the sentence for me. She must be out of her rabbit-ass mind, as Ben would say. I stood there glaring at the innocent telephone. It’s not FAIR! I wanted to shout, in a whining echo from my childhood. Glory always messes everything up! I wanted to throw something, to stamp my foot, to fling myself to the floor and have a screaming, kicking tantrum. Instead, I made a strenuous effort to sound composed and adult as I tried to explain things to the back of Phillip’s head. “It’s just that with all the farm work right now, not to mention getting things ready for the wedding next month, this isn’t exactly a good time for anyone to come for an open-ended visit, especially Gloria … she’s so bloody high-maintenance.” All the old feelings were just below the surface: bitterness, guilt, annoyance, a touch of envy, and guilt again—an evil stew of emotion ready to break into a full boil. Not attractive, Elizabeth, I warned that nasty inner child who was still quivering with righteous indignation. Aren’t you about forty years too old for this kind of adolescent reaction to your only sister … your only sibling? I took a deep breath, forcing myself into the mind-...
