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From #1 New York Times bestselling author David Baldacci comes a moving family drama about learning to love again after heartbreak and loss.
It's almost Christmas, but there is no joy in the house of terminally ill Jack and his family. With only a short time left to live, he spends his last days preparing to say goodbye to his devoted wife, Lizzie, and their three children. Then, unthinkably, tragedy strikes again: Lizzie is killed in a car accident. With no one able to care for them, the children are separated from each other and sent to live with family members around the country. Just when all seems lost, Jack begins to recover in a miraculous turn of events. He rises from what should have been his deathbed, determined to bring his fractured family back together. Struggling to rebuild their lives after Lizzie's death, he reunites everyone at Lizzie's childhood home on the oceanfront in South Carolina. And there, over one unforgettable summer, Jack will begin to learn to love again, and he and his children will learn how to become a family once more.
recovery.” “Why would you do that?” he said sharply. “Because they are only one parent from becoming orphans; that’s why.” “I’m alive, Bonnie, in case you hadn’t noticed.” “Every doctor I talked to said it’s not possible. The disease you have is fatal, without exception. I’m sorry, but that’s just what they said.” “Had. I had the disease. I don’t have it any longer. I was given a clean bill of health.” “Which these same doctors—and one of them was from the Mayo Clinic—said was also
eyes.” “Dad!” “Please, just do it.” Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes. Jack slipped the necklace from his pocket and affixed it around her neck. “Okay.” She looked down and gasped. She rushed to a mirror hanging on the wall. “This was Mom’s necklace,” she said in a hushed tone. Jack nodded. “I gave it to her on our first wedding anniversary.” Mikki turned to look at him, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Happy birthday, baby.” Father and daughter shared a lingering hug. After Liam and
opened it. The man was big, dressed in a uniform, and had a gun on his belt. He looked cold, tired, and uncomfortable. Mostly uncomfortable. “Is your dad home?” he asked Mikki. She backed away and pointed toward the den. The police officer stamped off his boots and stepped in. The squeak of his gun belt sounded like a scream in miniature. He walked where Mikki was pointing, saw Jack in the bed with the lines hooked to him, and muttered something under his breath. He looked at Mikki and Cory.
Ford F-150. Then he could be animated enough, at least until you signed on the dotted line and the financing cleared. Bonnie was shorter than her daughter. The mother of four grown children, she was now well into her sixties, and her figure had lost its shape. Her waist and hips had turned into a solid wall of flesh. Her hair was white, cut short and rather brutally, and her eyeglasses filled most of her square face. Fred kept sighing, rubbing his big hands over his pressed suit pants, as though
only tailback in the group. The others had all been quarterbacks. He could run over, around, or simply through anyone. He could block, and his soft hands could catch the ball coming out of the backfield. And he nearly always made the first guy miss with an instinctive lateral move—a rare talent the NFL gurus lapped up. And when he needed the turbos they flared to life and he was gone. The only thing left to do was hand the ball to the ref after scoring and go let coach pat his butt on the