Remember to Forget
Read Remember to Forget Online
Authors: Deborah Raney
Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #General, #Religious, #Romance, #Contemporary
“I was enthralled from start to finish.
Remember to Forget
took me to deep places of the heart and touched the spot where we all long for unconditional love. I wanted to stay in Clayburn, Kansas, forever. Raney’s best book yet!”
Colleen Coble—Author of
Midnight Sea
“Deborah Raney has done it again!
Remember to Forget
is a wonderful, heartwarming story about learning to trust . . . and love. Yes, I loved it.”
Roxanne Henke—Author of
After Anne,
and other books in the Coming Home to Brewster series, and
The Secret of Us
“Wow.
Remember to Forget
has it all: a gentle love story that won’t let go, with crosscurrents pulling way deeper than you expect. Pack your bags, because your heart is going to Clayburn, Kansas!”
Robert Elmer—Author of
The Recital
and
Like Always
“An enthralling, realistic depiction of lives in need of God. Another unforgettable story from an excellent writer.”
Yvonne Lehman—Author of forty-three novels; director, Blue Ridge Writers Conference
“Only Deb Raney can blend the story of a woman who struggles with deceit and survival into one of love and redemption. Grab your tissues as you cheer for a woman who fights her way into the hands of God and unconditional love.”
DiAnn Mills—Author of
Nebraska Legacy, Leather and Lace, When the Shadow Falls,
and more
“
Remember to Forget
is an emotional ride that eloquently reminds us of God’s promise to make all things new.”
Carolyne Aarsen—Author of
The Only Best Place
“Two broken souls from different worlds. Somehow, some way, you’re praying Deborah Raney brings them together. A heartwarming tale, with a pulse-pounding finish.”
Creston Mapes—Author of
Dark Star
and
Full Tilt
“Deborah Raney’s
Remember to Forget
is a tender, emotional story of second chances. A real blessing.”
Lyn Cote—Author of The Women of Ivy Manor series.
“Deborah Raney’s
Remember to Forget
is a nicely crafted allegory wrapped in a sweet love story that entertains from start to finish.”
DeAnna Julie Dodson—Author of
In Honor Bound, By Love Redeemed,
and
To Grace Surrendered
“From the opening page of
Remember to Forget,
I was swept into the idyllic town of Clayburn, Kansas. Yet even in this beautiful town, the story reveals deep heartache; but, thankfully, Deb Raney shows that within every heartache is an opportunity for hope.”
Tricia Goyer—Award-winning author of
From Dust and Ashes
and
Arms of Deliverance
www.triciagoyer.com
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
To Reed,
precious grandson,
with love
Acknowledgments
I
wish to offer sincere thanks and deep appreciation to the following people for their part in bringing this story to life:
For help with research and editorial direction: Tamera Alexander; Ken Raney; Terry Stucky; Max and Winifred Teeter; my authors’ groups, ChiLibris and ACFW, who are always ready with expert assistance; and the kind folks at the Swedish Country Inn in Lindsborg, Kansas, which served as a model for Wren’s Nest, and where the idea for this story was born.
I also wish to thank the ChiLibris Midwest contingent for help in brainstorming this story: Dr. Mel and Cheryl Hodde, Dave and Colleen Coble, Till Fell, Judy Miller, Nancy Moser, and Steph Whitson.
Special thanks to my ace critique partner Tamera Alexander, my talented editors Ramona Cramer Tucker, and Philis Boultinghouse and Terry Whalin at Howard Books; and to my agent extraordinaire, Steve Laube. As always, all of your names deserve to be on the cover alongside mine.
To my wonderful husband, our children, and extended family: what a gift from the Lord you each are. You make it all worthwhile.
One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind
and straining toward what is ahead,
I press on toward the goal to win the prize
for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 3:13–14 NIV
“Get out! Get out of the car!” He spit the words like machine-gun fire.
Chapter One
A
lofty full moon painted a jagged swath of light across Lafayette Avenue. Maggie Anderson glanced at the digital numbers on the dashboard.
Four o’clock in the morning
.
An eerie calm hovered over New York, the street absent its typical bumper-to-bumper congestion. At least she would make it back to the apartment in good time. Maybe for once she wouldn’t have to give him a play-by-play to justify every minute she’d been out of his sight.
A vagrant staggered into the crosswalk ahead of her, beckoning her with a leer. She averted her eyes and reached across the console of the Honda Civic to pat the brown paper bag buckled into the passenger seat beside her, testing again to make sure it was secure. Before driving away from the liquor store, she’d tightened the seat belt around Kevin’s precious bottle
as if it were a child. It might as well be. She would pay dearly if she slammed on the brakes and sent his next fix flying through the windshield. For a split second the thought caused a cynical smile to tug at her mouth . . . until an image of the probable aftermath came into focus.
She rubbed her left wrist, remembering his last tantrum, and forced her mind to blank out the scene. No use spoiling these brief minutes of freedom with a dose of reality.
Crossing Clinton Street, she changed lanes and reached to adjust the air-conditioner vent. The cool air caressed her face, a balm for early June temperatures that had barely dropped during the night. She leaned back against the headrest and let out a slow breath, willing her thoughts to carry her to the one place that never failed to bring her peace. She’d become adept at conjuring the scene. The city streets receded to the periphery of her vision, and there it was . . .
