Another Life


 
 Cover
 Title page
 Contents
 Dedication page
 Epigraph page
 ONE
 TWO
 THREE
 FOUR
 FIVE
 SIX
 SEVEN
 EIGHT
 NINE
 TEN
 ELEVEN
 TWELVE
 THIRTEEN
 FOURTEEN
 FIFTEEN
 SIXTEEN
 SEVENTEEN
 EIGHTEEN
 NINETEEN
 TWENTY
 TWENTY-ONE
 TWENTY-TWO
 TWENTY-THREE
 TWENTY-FOUR
 TWENTY-FIVE
 TWENTY-SIX
 TWENTY-SEVEN
 TWENTY-EIGHT
 TWENTY-NINE
 THIRTY
 THIRTY-ONE
 THIRTY-TWO
 THE NIGHTINGALE
 THE GREAT ALONE
 THE FOUR WINDS
 About the Author
 Also by Kristin Hannah
 Copyright page
 
 
 
 Guide
 
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 Title page
 Contents
 
 
 
 
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 ANOTHER LIFE Kristin Hannah Contents ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE TWENTY-FOUR TWENTY-FIVE TWENTY-SIX TWENTY-SEVEN TWENTY-EIGHT TWENTY-NINE THIRTY THIRTY-ONE THIRTY-TWO THE NIGHTINGALE THE GREAT ALONE THE FOUR WINDS Once again, for Benjamin and Tucker For good friends: Holly and Gerald, Mark and Monica, Tom and Lori, Megan and Kany, and Steve and Jill And finally, a special thanks to Linda Marrow, for an effort that was above and beyond the call of duty Things do not change; we change. —HENRY DAVID THOREAU ONE THE STREETS OF WEST END WERE CROWDED ON THIS unexpectedly sunny day. All across town mothers stood in open doorways, with hands tented across their eyes, watching their children play. Everyone knew that soon—probably tomorrow—a soapy haze would creep across the sky, covering the blue, obliterating the delicate sun, and once more the rain would fall. It was May, after all, in the Pacific Northwest. Rain came to this month as surely as ghosts took to the streets on the thirty-first of October and salmon came home from the sea. “It sure is hot,” Conlan said from the driver’s seat of the sleek black BMW convertible. It was the first thing he’d said in almost an hour. He was trying to make conversation; that was all. Angie should return the volley, perhaps mention the beautiful hawthorn trees that were in bloom. But even as she had the thought, she was exhausted by it. In a few short months, those tiny green leaves would curl and blacken; the color would be drawn out of them by cold nights, and they would fall to the ground, unnoticed. When you looked at it that way, what was the point in noticing so fleeting a moment? She stared out the window at her hometown. It was the first time she’d been back in months. Although West End was only one hundred twenty miles from Seattle, that distance had seemed to swell lately in her mind. As much as she loved her family, she’d found it difficult to leave her own house. Out in the world, there were babies everywhere. They drove into the old part of town, where Victorian houses had been built one after another on tiny patches of lawn. Huge, leafy maple trees shaded the street, cast an intricate lacework pattern of light on the asphalt. In the seventies, this neighborhood had been the town’s heart. Kids had been everywhere back then, riding their Big Wheels and Schwinn bicycles from one house to the next. There had been block parties every Sunday after church, and games of Red Rover played in every backyard. In the years between then and now, this part of the state had changed, and the old neighborhoods had fallen into silence and disrepair. Salmon runs had diminished and the timber industry had been hit