When We Believed in Mermaids

When We Believed in Mermaids Plot Summary

Introduction

# Echoes Across Oceans: A Story of Sisters, Secrets, and Redemption The emergency room had been chaos for six straight hours when Kit Bianci saw her dead sister on television. Fifteen years had passed since Josie supposedly died in a terrorist bombing on a European train, her body never recovered from the twisted wreckage. Yet there she was on the news coverage of a nightclub fire in Auckland, New Zealand – unmistakable with her straight blonde hair and that distinctive scar cutting through her eyebrow. For one electric moment, Josie looked directly into the camera before vanishing into the crowd of survivors. The next morning, Kit plunged into the frigid waters off Santa Cruz, letting the Pacific Ocean pound sense into her racing thoughts. These waves had been their sanctuary as children, back when their parents ran the sprawling restaurant called Eden and two little girls slept on the beach under stars that seemed close enough to touch. The ocean remembered everything – their laughter, their secrets, the night Dylan taught them to read the swells, and the earthquake that shattered their world into pieces too sharp to reassemble. As Kit emerged from the churning surf, one truth crystallized with brutal clarity: Josie was alive somewhere across this vast ocean, and Kit would cross every mile of water between them to find out why her sister had let them all believe she was dead.

Chapter 1: The Ghost in the Flames: When the Dead Appear on Television

The footage played on every channel. Flames licking at broken windows, smoke billowing into Auckland's night sky, survivors stumbling from the wreckage of what had been New Zealand's most popular nightclub. Kit watched the same thirty seconds of news coverage until her eyes burned, freezing the frame at the exact moment her sister's face appeared in the crowd. "You're seeing ghosts," her colleague Dr. Martinez had said, glancing at Kit's laptop screen between patients. "Trauma does that. Makes you see familiar faces in strangers." But Kit knew every angle of her sister's face, every expression that had once been as familiar as her own reflection. The tilt of those dark eyes, the way Josie's mouth curved when she was frightened – it was all there in that grainy television footage, impossible and undeniable. Her mother's voice cracked over the phone from three thousand miles away. "I saw her too, sweetheart. On the morning news. It's her. It's really her." Kit had spent fifteen years building a life without her sister. Medical school, residency, the controlled chaos of emergency medicine where she could save strangers and never think about the people she'd failed to save. She'd constructed walls around the memories of Eden, their parents' restaurant perched on the California coast where two little girls had run wild among the dunes and tide pools. The earthquake had taken their father and destroyed Eden in a matter of minutes. Dylan, the damaged young man who'd become their protector, had walked into the ocean six months later and never walked out. Their mother had crawled into a bottle and stayed there for years. And Josie – beautiful, reckless Josie – had spiraled into addiction and petty crime before disappearing onto that doomed train in France. Kit had grieved them all. Had learned to live with the hollow spaces where her family used to be. But now Josie's face stared back at her from a computer screen, alive and breathing in a city Kit had never seen, surrounded by strangers who didn't know she was supposed to be dead. The next morning, Kit called in sick for the first time in three years. She drove to their old cove and suited up in her wetsuit, paddling out into swells that rolled in from the deep Pacific. The water was brutal and cleansing, each wave a reminder that some forces were too powerful to fight, too ancient to understand. When she finally dragged herself onto the sand, her decision was made. Her sister was alive. Kit was going to find her.

Chapter 2: Following Shadows Across the Pacific: The Search for a Lost Sister

Auckland's harbor stretched before Kit like a promise and a threat. Volcanic islands dotted the blue expanse, their ancient peaks softened by distance and morning mist. She'd been in New Zealand less than twenty-four hours, armed with nothing but a screenshot from a news broadcast and a desperate certainty that had carried her halfway around the world. The ferry rocked gently beneath her feet as she studied the faces of other passengers, searching for any echo of her sister's features. A commotion near the stern broke her concentration – a teenage boy had jumped from the pier and struck his head on the rocks below. Without thinking, Kit dove into the harbor's cold embrace. Her lifeguard training took over, muscle memory guiding her hands as she stabilized the boy's neck and pulled him to safety. The crowd that gathered watched her work with the calm efficiency of someone who'd spent years pulling people back from the edge of death. "You're a doctor," one of the paramedics observed as they loaded the boy onto a stretcher. Kit wrung seawater from her red dress, suddenly aware of how far she was from everything familiar. "Emergency physician. He'll need imaging for possible cervical fracture." A man approached with a towel, tall and dark-eyed with an accent that rolled like distant thunder. "That was impressive. Most tourists don't celebrate their vacation by saving lives." "I'm not here on vacation," Kit replied, accepting his jacket against the harbor wind. "Business then?" She hesitated. How do you explain that you're chasing a ghost? "Family matters." Javier – he introduced himself over coffee at a small Italian restaurant tucked into Queen Street's maze of alleys – listened without judgment as Kit explained her impossible mission. Her sister, supposedly dead for fifteen years. A face in a crowd during a tragedy. A mother's desperate phone call and a daughter's need to know the truth. "What will you say when you find her?" Javier asked, his musician's fingers wrapped around his cup. Kit stared into her wine. "I have no idea." That evening, as they walked along the harbor's edge, Javier sang softly in Spanish. The melody wrapped around Kit like a spell, momentarily lifting the weight of her search. When he kissed her beneath the Southern Cross, she surprised herself by kissing him back, tasting salt and possibility. "I should go," she whispered against his mouth. "Will I see you again?" Kit stepped away, feeling the familiar urge to run from anything that might matter. "I'm not looking for complications." "Some complications are worth having," he replied, his smile following her all the way back to her hotel room where she lay awake, listening to the harbor's whispered secrets.

Chapter 3: Two Lives, Two Identities: The Woman Who Became Someone Else

Seven thousand miles from Kit's restless hotel room, Mari Edwards stood in the morning light of Sapphire House, her latest renovation project perched on Auckland's North Shore like a jewel against the harbor's blue expanse. The Art Deco mansion had been built in the 1930s by movie star Veronica Parker, its elegant lines and chevron inlays speaking of an era when glamour could mask any amount of darkness. "I don't want to move," complained seven-year-old Sarah, her wild curls catching the light as she explored the empty rooms. "I like our house." Mari smoothed her daughter's hair, so different from her own straight blonde locks. "We'll make this place special too, sweetheart. You'll see." Her husband Simon appeared in the doorway, their son Leo balanced on his shoulders. "The camera crew wants to start filming next week. You sure you're ready for this?" Mari's chest tightened. A television documentary about their house restoration would mean cameras, interviews, footage that could end up anywhere online. Anyone could see it. Anyone from a life she'd buried so completely that sometimes she almost believed Mari Edwards was the only person she'd ever been. Later, alone in the mansion's study, Mari discovered a shelf of books about mermaids and ocean mythology. Her fingers traced the tattoo on her inner arm – delicate scales climbing toward her elbow, the words "BIG SISTER" inscribed above them. Somewhere across the Pacific, Kit had a matching tattoo reading "LITTLE SISTER," if she hadn't had it removed by now. The pain hit like a rogue wave, sudden and devastating. For fifteen years, she'd been Mari Sanders from British Columbia, then Mari Edwards of Auckland. She'd built a life of stunning normalcy – a loving husband, two beautiful children, a successful business flipping houses along New Zealand's coast. She'd become the woman she'd always wanted to be: sober, successful, surrounded by people who saw only her best self. But Josie Bianci had been real once. Had slept on California beaches and learned to read the ocean's moods from a damaged boy named Dylan who'd loved them both with a fierce, protective devotion. Had survived their parents' neglect and worse things she'd never told anyone, not even Kit. Had spiraled into addiction and theft and finally onto a train in France where a terrorist's bomb had given her the perfect opportunity to disappear. Mari closed the mermaid book and walked to the window overlooking the harbor. The water stretched endlessly toward a horizon that held all her secrets. She'd stolen a dead girl's passport and identity, detoxed on a cargo ship, and arrived in Auckland with nothing but determination and three hundred dollars. She'd built everything she had on that foundation of lies. Josie Bianci was dead. Mari intended to keep it that way.

Chapter 4: Unraveling the Past: Childhood Trauma and Buried Secrets

Kit found the Italian restaurant where the hostess had recognized her sister's photograph. The woman's face shifted when Kit showed her the image again, recognition flickering behind professional caution. "She comes in sometimes," the hostess admitted. "Always sits at the corner table, orders the same thing." "Do you know her name?" "We protect our customers' privacy." Kit leaned forward, desperation bleeding through her careful composure. "She's my sister. Everyone thinks she's dead." Something in Kit's voice must have convinced her. "I don't know her name, but she's friends with Nan. Owns the boutique across the street." Nan's shop overflowed with vintage clothing and Art Deco jewelry, the owner herself a stylish woman in her sixties who studied Kit's face with undisguised curiosity. "You look like her," Nan said finally. "Around the eyes." "You know her?" "We've been friends for years. She never mentioned a sister." "She wouldn't have. She's supposed to be dead." Nan's expression hardened. "I think you should leave." "Please," Kit said. "I've come halfway around the world." After a long moment, Nan sighed. "She calls herself Mari now. Mari Edwards. Married to Simon Edwards – he runs fitness clubs. They live in Devonport." Kit's heart hammered against her ribs. A name. An address. A life her sister had built while letting her family drown in grief. That evening, she found herself at the Spanish restaurant where Javier performed, his voice filling the room with melancholy that matched her own. When their eyes met across the crowded space, something electric passed between them. "You found something," he said afterward, settling beside her. "A name. An address." Kit twisted her wine glass, watching the liquid catch the light. "I'm terrified to go there." "What are you afraid of?" "That she'll slam the door in my face. That she won't. That I'll find out why she let us think she was dead all these years." Javier covered her hand with his. "You won't know until you try." The next morning, Kit took the ferry to Devonport, the seaside village picture-perfect with its Victorian houses and views back to Auckland's skyline. She walked slowly through streets that felt like a movie set, rehearsing words that crumbled before she could speak them. She never got the chance. Rounding a corner near the harbor, she nearly collided with a woman in a blue sundress. For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other. "Josie," Kit whispered. Her sister's face crumpled. "Oh my God." They fell into each other's arms, both weeping, Kit feeling her sister's heart hammering against her own chest like a caged bird. "I missed you so much," Josie whispered fiercely. Kit pulled back, anger surging through her grief. "Why did you—" "Mom!" A little girl was running toward them, curly hair bouncing, freckles scattered across her nose like stars. Kit froze. The child looked exactly like Kit had at that age, down to the serious dark eyes and determined chin. "Call me Mari," her sister whispered urgently. "My family's coming. They don't know anything. Give me a chance to explain." Before Kit could process what was happening, she was being introduced to her sister's husband and children as an old friend from childhood. "Like sisters," Kit managed, the irony burning her throat as she shook hands with the niece and nephew she'd never known existed.

Chapter 5: The Weight of Truth: When Revelations Threaten Everything

Mari picked Kit up at dawn, driving in silence to Sapphire House where morning light streamed through Art Deco windows, casting geometric shadows on polished floors. They settled in a sunlit room facing the harbor, Mari's hands trembling as she poured tea. "Start at the beginning," Kit said. "How did you become Mari Edwards?" Mari took a shuddering breath. "I was in France with some people. Surfers, mostly. A lot of drugs." She looked down. "I was bad then. You saw me when I stole your stuff. I'm so sorry about that." Kit nodded stiffly. "Go on." "We caught a train in Le Havre. I went to find a bathroom, got turned around. I was high, ended up at the back of the train when the bomb went off." Mari described waking in the wreckage, searching desperately for her friends among the twisted metal and broken glass. "I found Amy. Her face was untouched, but something had crushed the rest of her." Mari's voice cracked. "She was dead. I could see other bodies, pieces of our surfboards. I just grabbed her pack and started walking." "All the way to Paris?" "Amy had a New Zealand passport and three hundred dollars. I found passage on a freighter." Kit stared at her sister. "You detoxed on the ship?" Mari nodded. "It was hell. But when I was finally clean, I had time to think. I could start completely fresh, be someone new." "You abandoned me," Kit said, her voice breaking. "I know. I'm so sorry." "Does Simon know any of this?" "No." Mari's lips went pale. "He would hate me if he knew." Kit stood abruptly, rage and grief warring in her chest. "What are you talking about? We're just going to pretend nothing happened? That you didn't break our hearts into a million pieces?" "That would be my preference," Mari said quietly. "I don't want to be part of this lie." "Come to dinner tonight," Mari pleaded. "Meet my family. See who I am now." That evening, Kit arrived with Javier at the Edwards' warm, welcoming home. The scents of Mari's cooking filled the air – vermicelli alla siracusana with preserved lemons, exactly like their father used to make at Eden. Throughout dinner, Kit watched her sister with her family. Simon clearly adored her. Leo was his father's mirror image, but Sarah – Sarah was Kit herself at seven years old, down to the webbed toes and insatiable curiosity about how the world worked. "I have experiments," Sarah told Kit proudly. "Weather measurements and plant growth studies." Kit felt something crack inside her chest. This child was her blood, her mirror, her legacy. How could Josie have kept this from her? After the children went to bed, Simon turned to Kit. "She couldn't look more like you if she tried." Mari took a deep breath. "We're sisters." Simon looked bewildered. "Why wouldn't you just say that?" "Because it's complicated," Mari said, tears filling her eyes. "This is a really long story." Kit stood, pulling Javier with her. "We should go. This is between you two." As they left, Kit saw the devastation on Simon's face as Mari began to tell him the truth about who she really was.

Chapter 6: Confronting the Darkness: Dylan's Story and the Ultimate Betrayal

The next morning found Kit and Mari at Piha Beach, its black sand stretching toward waves that rolled in with perfect six-foot faces. They paddled out in silence, taking turns riding the swells back to shore. For moments at a time, it felt like childhood – two sisters reading the ocean's rhythm, moving in harmony they'd learned before they could walk. Sitting on their boards between sets, Kit finally asked the question burning inside her. "Why didn't you ever contact us? Mom's been sober for years." Mari stared at the horizon. "I had to kill Josie. She was a mess – an addict, a thief. Mari got a second chance." "I understand that. But why let us grieve?" "Would you have kept my secret?" Before Kit could answer, Mari spoke again, her voice flat and distant. "Do you remember Billy Zondervan? That actor who used to come to Eden?" "Sure. He brought us kites and candy. Nice guy." "That nice guy raped me when I was nine. Repeatedly." The words hit Kit like a physical blow. "What?" "He had it down to an art. Presents, sips of his drinks, then threats. Said he'd kill Cinder if I told anyone." Horror washed through Kit. Their dog, their beloved golden retriever who'd slept between them on the beach. "Why didn't you tell us?" Mari shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I was so ashamed. Thought it was my fault." Kit reached for her sister's wrist, gripping it hard. "I wish I could kill him. An inch at a time." "He tried to start something with you too," Mari continued. "I told him if he ever touched you, I'd stand in the middle of Eden's patio on a crowded night and tell everyone exactly what he'd done." A hollow opened in Kit's gut. "I don't remember that." "You were protected. By me. By Dylan." Dylan. Their surrogate brother, their protector, their friend. The damaged young man who'd taught them to surf and read to them at night. Who'd walked into the ocean after the earthquake and never walked out. "Did you ever tell anyone?" Kit asked. "Eventually. I told Dylan." "Why didn't he expose Billy?" Mari looked at her sister. "I made him promise not to. It took him forever to get me to admit what was wrong, and even then I begged him to keep quiet." They sat in silence, watching the waves. Kit thought of their childhood – two little girls sleeping alone on the beach while their parents partied, vulnerable to any predator who wandered into their orbit. "Dylan was more messed up than our parents," Kit said finally. "Remember when he dove off the cliff?" Mari shuddered. "It's a miracle he survived." "I think that was the point. Just like the motorcycle accident." Mari's eyes widened. "Oh God. Of course it was a suicide attempt. That's why he was so angry when we brought him back to the house." "You seriously never realized that?" "No." Mari shook her head. "I miss him so much." "Me too." As they paddled back to shore, Kit felt something shift inside her. The anger was still there, but beneath it grew understanding of what her sister had endured. That understanding shattered when Mari spoke again. "There's something else I need to tell you. When Mom and I went to Santa Cruz the day of the earthquake, I was having an abortion." Kit raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry that happened, but it's not exactly shocking." "The baby was Dylan's. And he was dead, so what could I do?" Kit went completely still. "What are you saying?" "When you were at that medical camp and Mom and Dad went to Hawaii, I got Dylan really drunk and had sex with him." The world seemed to stop. "That's why he killed himself," Kit said, her voice hollow. Mari couldn't look at her. "He was so angry and ashamed. I should never have done it." Kit jumped out of the car, rain pouring down on her. "No one ever protected you the way they should have," she said, tears streaming down her face. "But I would have. I would have." She slammed the door and walked away, carrying the weight of a truth she'd never wanted to know.

Chapter 7: Choosing Love Over Fear: The Courage to Rebuild and Forgive

That evening, Mari returned to Sapphire House alone, wandering through empty rooms that echoed with the ghosts of other people's tragedies. The sound of footsteps startled her. Simon stood in the doorway, his shoulders bowed with the weight of revelation. "Is this a good time to talk?" he asked. Mari's heart clenched. "Of course." They sat at the kitchen table, strange green light from the harbor casting shadows on their faces. "I'm gutted," Simon said simply. "I'm so sorry. It was stupid, but I really thought it would never come up." "Christ, Mari." So she told him everything. About Eden and Kit and Dylan on the beach. About the neglect and the abuse. About the drinking and drugs and Dylan's suicide. About the earthquake that destroyed their home and the abortion and the train bombing that gave her a chance to become someone else. "Why didn't you tell me?" Simon asked. "At some point, somewhere along the way?" "I thought if you knew everything, you wouldn't love me." Simon shook his head. "How shallow you think I am." He pushed away his untouched tea. "I'm sorry all that happened to you. No one should live like that." Mari leaned back, waiting. "But I can't forgive you for lying to me for so long. You had so many opportunities to tell me the truth." Her heart sank. "I'll have my lawyer draw up an agreement. We'll split custody." "You can't be serious," Mari said. "I assure you I am." Mari stood and moved to his lap, sliding her arms around his neck. "What we have is good." "Was good." His expression was wounded and distant. "I've paid for everything I did, Simon. When life gave me a chance, I figured out how to turn it around. What kind of fool throws away his wife and family over the past?" "Trust is everything, Mari. If everything you've told me is a lie, how can I believe anything going forward?" Mari sighed, fear clawing at her heart. "I didn't lie about anything in our life together, only about what came before." He started to shake his head, to shift her away. "No." She tightened her grip. "We're not going to destroy our family over this. This isn't some tragic novel where a woman who makes bad choices inevitably dies. This is you and me. We fell in love the minute we met, and it's been good ever since." Tears gathered in his eyes. "I'm so angry with you." "I know. And you have every right to be. Be angry. We can work through that." He held her close, his body shaking. "You can come home, but this isn't over." "I know. I'm okay with that." "I don't know how to do this," he said raggedly. "Neither do I." She allowed for the reality of everything that had happened. "Maybe you won't be able to forgive me." "I'm afraid that might be true." She closed her eyes. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone except our children. You're the sun in my world, the most normal thing that ever happened to me." He sighed, his hands on her waist. "You're my weakness." "No," she whispered, brushing away his tears. "I'm your sunshine in the morning, your moonlight at night." Meanwhile, across the harbor, Kit was packing her suitcase. She couldn't stay in Auckland another day, not with the weight of everything she'd learned crushing her chest. A knock sounded at her door. Javier stood there, concern written across his features. "What is this?" he asked, seeing her luggage. "I can't do this. I need to get home." "You're leaving? Now? Today?" "Yes. I have to go." He frowned. "Did something happen?" "Confessions of all kinds. Things I didn't know. Things I didn't want to know." He reached for her arms. "You look destroyed." "I'll be fine once I get back to everything normal." She swallowed. "I'm sorry about leaving so suddenly. I've really enjoyed your company." "Enjoyed?" He stepped closer, backing her against the wall. "This is much more than that, and you know it." He kissed her, and Kit found herself responding with desperate intensity, all the emotions she couldn't express pouring into this physical connection. Afterward, he cupped her face in his hands. "That is not enjoyment, mi sirenita. That is passion. That's love." Tears ran from Kit's eyes. "How can I trust that? Instant passion?" "Don't trust me," he whispered. "Trust this. Trust us." Kit looked away. "I can't." He gazed down at her, touching her tears. "The ice is melting. You go. But I want your email. I've been writing. I want to send you a song." "Don't. I can't bear it." He laughed softly. "You'll like it, gatita. I promise."

Chapter 8: Healing Waters: Sisters Reunited in the Waves of Memory

One month later, Kit stood on the bluff where Eden had once perched above the Pacific. The surf had been mediocre that morning, but she'd stayed in the water anyway, seeking the peace only the ocean could provide. Since returning from New Zealand, she'd been unable to settle. Work felt hollow. She couldn't sit still with her mother, couldn't read, couldn't focus on anything but the waves whenever she could get out there. Her phone chimed with another email from Javier – daily messages that were usually just a paragraph or fragment of poetry. She hadn't responded to most of them, convinced the connection would fade with distance. Standing on the bluff, Kit felt the ghosts around her. Dylan leaning against a car, smoking. Her father slapping dust off his jeans. Neither of them was perfect. One was a hard man raised in a hard place. The other was warped by abuse and trauma. Just as Josie was. The revelation rolled through Kit's body like a summer breeze. Maybe she didn't have to choose between Dylan as villain and Dylan as beloved protector. Maybe he was both. Maybe Josie was both too. Maybe we all are. Kit drove to her mother's condo, still sorting through her feelings. When she opened the door, she froze in disbelief. "What are you doing here?" "Surprise," said her mother. "Surprise!" Sarah bolted across the room to fling her arms around Kit. "We all came to see you!" Mari stood with their mother, Simon behind them, Leo trying to look engaged. And there, as if she'd conjured him, was Javier, elegant in a fine shirt, smiling at her confusion. "Hola, gatita," he said. Kit looked from one person to the next. "I don't understand." "Sweetheart," her mother said, "this is an intervention." "Intervention?" "A love intervention," Mari explained. "We wanted you to know you aren't alone anymore," her mother continued. "We abandoned you – all of us, in one way or another. Me and Josie and Dylan and your father." "Not me," Sarah said, holding Kit closer. "Nor me," Javier added. Simon chimed in, "You're not alone anymore. We're all your family, and you can count on us." And there was no holding back the emotions Kit had suppressed for so long. Like a dam bursting, she erupted – all the tears she'd never cried, all the grief she'd never expressed, pouring out until she was sobbing like a small child while their hands stroked her and voices whispered reassurance. She'd been so lonely for such a very long time. Later, Kit and Javier walked on the beach where she'd grown up. He took her hand. "Okay?" he asked. She nodded, suddenly shy. "Thank you for coming." "I was nearly on a plane the next day, but it seemed you might need time." "We haven't known each other very long." "That's true," he said, his hair lifting in the ocean breeze. "It feels rash." He looked down at her. "Love is rash." "Is this love?" "Yes, mi sirenita. It is absolutely love. For me, certainly." Kit looked up at him, allowing herself to trust. "I'm so afraid." "I know. But you are not alone – I promise you that." He kissed her gently. "What does mi sirenita mean?" "My little mermaid," he said, smiling. "And gatita?" "Kitten. They're my names for you now." She kissed him back, tasting salt and possibility. "I missed you so much." "I know. Because we are twin souls, you and I." In the early dawn, Kit and Mari carried their surfboards down the bluff to the cove where they'd once played as children. They wore heavy wetsuits against the cold California water, standing on the hard-pressed sand where they'd once slept in a tent and made s'mores and gazed at stars that seemed close enough to touch. Neither spoke as they paddled around the rocks into open water. Other surfers dotted the lineup, but the sisters found their own rhythm, taking turns catching waves that rolled in from the deep Pacific. Kit followed her sister's blonde head as she'd always done, and then suddenly Mari waved for her to lead. Kit took a perfect wave, leaping to her feet at exactly the right moment, feeling everything in her body center and steady. All of time condensed, and Kit could feel Dylan behind her, his arms at her sides in case she fell. He laughed at her power, and she grew twenty feet tall. Behind her, Mari whooped, and Kit glanced back, raising her hand in a shaka, and whooped herself.

Summary

Two sisters had circled each other across an ocean of grief and secrets, each carrying scars from a childhood that had been equal parts magical and devastating. Kit, the doctor who'd built her life around facts and order, had learned to open her heart to possibility. Mari, who'd reinvented herself completely, had discovered that love could survive even the deepest betrayals. Both had carried the weight of their shared past – the neglect of their bohemian parents, the loss of Dylan, the earthquake that shattered everything they knew. The ocean had always been their constant, the thing that connected them across time and distance. As children, they'd believed there were jewels dancing on the waves, mermaids singing beneath the surface. Now, as women who'd survived more than they should have had to, they rode those same waves together, feeling the ancient rhythm that had sustained them through everything. The water was cold and unforgiving, but it was also eternal, washing away old wounds and carrying them forward on tides that knew no boundaries. In the end, they'd learned what Dylan had tried to teach them all those years ago – that family isn't just the people who share your blood, but the ones who choose to love you despite everything, who pull you back to shore when the current tries to drag you under.

About Author

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Barbara O'Neal

O'Neal investigates the intricacies of women's lives through her compelling narratives, weaving themes of resilience, transformation, and the pursuit of personal identity into her works. As a Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, and #1 Amazon Charts bestselling author, she connects deeply with readers seeking stories that resonate with their own experiences. Her approach to storytelling often centers on characters who navigate life’s challenges and seek renewal, offering readers an exploration of the human spirit. Living in Colorado with her partner, a British endurance athlete, O'Neal draws inspiration from her surroundings, which enrich the authentic settings and emotional depth found in her novels.\n\nHer method involves a rich tapestry of interconnected lives, where personal growth and empowerment emerge as central themes. Through her books, readers encounter characters who embody strength and determination, often finding themselves transformed by life-altering events. O'Neal's focus on the inner lives of women and their journeys to self-discovery provides readers with narratives that are both inspiring and relatable. This thematic consistency makes her work particularly engaging for those interested in stories about overcoming adversity and embracing change.\n\nReaders benefit from O'Neal's ability to create immersive worlds where the challenges and triumphs of her characters offer insight into their own lives. Her writing provides a sense of hope and possibility, appealing to audiences who appreciate character-driven stories with emotional depth. By situating her novels in relatable, well-crafted settings, she allows readers to experience the transformative power of storytelling. This short bio captures the essence of an author whose work not only entertains but also encourages introspection and personal growth.

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