Chapter One Hundred And Forty-three

"Luke, is that my name on the cover?"

Amiriam's voice was gentle, almost astonished, as she stood in the doorway to the study with a slender hardcover book clutched in her hand. The late afternoon sun streamed in from the window, casting a shaft of golden light across the desk where Luke sat, scribbling in a notebook.

He glanced up, his lips twisting. "Depends. Does it say 'To the Boy I Was and the Woman I Love'?"

Her fingers ran over the embossed letters again. "Yes."

"Then yes," he answered softly, leaning back in his chair.

The book had arrived that morning in a plain cardboard box. She had thought it was something Luke had obtained for himself initially. Then she read the title, her name in the dedication, and it hit her like a rising tide of warmth.

"You wrote a book," she said slowly, tracing her fingers across the pages. "You wrote a book of letters."

"Letters to two people," Luke answered. "The boy I once was, and the woman who for whatever reason stayed."

Amiriam's throat was