After six weeks, Vicki went in for her postoperative scan. Dr. Garcia said the pictures looked “clean.” Vicki appeared to be “cancer-free.” Ted bought champagne. Vicki drank some from a Dixie cup, but that night Porter howled from his crib and the next day he broke out in red spots.

Chicken pox, contracted on one of the playdates. Ted took the week off from work. Vicki cursed herself for not being able to deal with it. She couldn’t do anything—she couldn’t care for Porter, she couldn’t go to the grocery store, she couldn’t trick-or-treat with the kids, she couldn’t plan a baby shower for Melanie. She was stil in such pain, her faculties were compromised. Her body had been invaded. She had been sliced open and stitched back together like a rag dol . Part of her incision became infected. There was an unusual y severe soreness, a smel , redness, and an oozing pus. She ran a fever. Dr. Garcia prescribed antibiotics.

Vicki felt empty, and she imagined her chest cavity as literal y empty. She imagined that, along with the cancer, Dr. Jason Emery had removed her capacity for getting things done, her good luck, and her happiness. She went to physical therapy; she went back to the psychotherapist.

She was better, yes. She was cancer-free, cured, a survivor. But she wasn’t herself—and what was the point of getting better if her essential Vicki-ness had been lost? Al her life, things had come easily. Now, the only thing that came easily was lying in bed and watching TV. She became addicted to the soap opera Love Another Day and hated herself for it.

“Recovery is a long, tough road,” Vicki tel s the group. “But in my case it was a road with an end.”

Somehow, she pul ed herself up. In spite of her deep despair, the lingering pain, the adjusted expectations, or perhaps because of them, she got better. It might have started with something little—a note came from Dr. Alcott, Ted made a joke and she laughed without splitting open, she had enough stamina to stand at the counter and make a sandwich. She fol owed her therapist’s advice and built on these minor successes rather than dismissing them.

Now look at her: Five months later, she is here, in the circle, head bowed for closing prayer. She has changed. She is cancer-free, yes, but the change is something else, something more elusive, harder to pinpoint. She has been on a journey, and the place she finds herself now is the place she hopes everyone else in this circle wil arrive. It is a place of wonder. It is a place of enormous gratitude.

You don’t believe in a greater plan? Josh had asked her.

Vicki’s answer—stil —is I don’t know. Some people in the circle wil die, some wil live. Who’s to say which wil happen, or why?

I want to throw her back. I want to let her live. Could it al be just that random?

Vicki recal s the night she stood on Sankaty Bluff, with the waves pounding the beach below her and the embarrassing riches of the night sky above.

Everything matters. Every little thing.

“Amen,” Dolores says.

The closing prayer is over. Vicki has missed it. Or has she?

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book marks a new beginning for me. I would like to thank my agent, Michael Carlisle, for his wise counsel; he has been with me every step of the way. Also, David Forrer, for his canny suggestions, which resulted in a better book al the way around. I thank Jennifer Weis and Sal y Richardson for sticking with me through seven years and five books; they are both extraordinary women. At Little, Brown, I would like to thank Reagan Arthur and Michael Pietsch for taking me on with such enthusiasm, as wel as Oliver Haslegrave for his gal ant assistance. I feel like I have been born anew.

Thank you to Dr. Wil iam G. Porter, who is not only a friend and a discerning reader/critic, but an oncologist. We talked extensively about lung cancer and its various treatments. Any inaccuracies in the text, however, are mine alone. Thank you to Dr. Jason Lamb, thoracic surgeon, who briefed me on the pertinent details of a pneumonectomy. And thank you to my aunt, Ruthann Hal , who is a cancer survivor. Her details of chemotherapy and its mental / emotional/physical side effects were both inspiring and helpful.

One of the beating hearts of this novel is the parenting of smal children. I am blessed to have a close-knit circle of friends on Nantucket who are rearing young families right alongside of me. My friend Debbie cal s it “the vil age.” My friend Liz cal s it “the squad.” So thank you to said vil age/squad for your support and your friendship: Amanda and Richard Congdon, Elizabeth and Beau Almodobar, Rebecca and John Bartlett, Debbie and Jamey Bennett, Leslie and Tom Bresette, Betty and Rhett Dupont, Renee and Joe Gamberoni, Anne and Whitney Gifford, Sal y and Brooks Hal , Wendy and Randy Hudson, Wendy Rouil ard and Il ya Kagan, and Marty and Hol y McGowan.

I could not have written a word of this novel without the steadfast kindness and rock-solid care that our au pair, Suphawan “Za” Intafa, provided to my three children. Thank you, Za. You wil never know how much I appreciate your help.

Thank you, Dan Bowling, for giving Nantucket a shot in the summer of 2004. I exonerate you from al comparisons to Josh Flynn, except that you wil always be a favorite with my boys.

As for Chip, Max, Dawson, and Shelby Cunningham, my family: When I wake up each morning, I marvel at how lucky I am. Everything, always, is for you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elin Hilderbrand has lived on Nantucket for fourteen years. She has written about the island in Barefoot and her five previous novels not only because it is her home but also because it provides a rich ecological and historical background for her characters. Hilderbrand is married to hotel manager Chip Cunningham, and they have three young children. Ms. Hilderbrand is a graduate of the Johns Hopkins University and the graduate fiction workshop at the University of Iowa. She grew up in Col egevil e, Pennsylvania, but has traveled extensively on six continents. Her dream is to someday spend her winters in Fremantle, Australia.

Contents

PART ONE JUNE

PART TWO JULY

PART THREE AUGUST

EPILOGUE WINTER

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Table of Contents

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR