Kristin Hannah

Through the lacy snow on the windshield, she saw her parents through the living room window. Dad pulled her mother into his arms and kissed her. They began to dance haltingly, although there was probably no music in the house. Her dad didn’t need any; he always said he carried love songs in his heart.

Ah’m goin’ t’ be farhty next moonth.

The last thing she wanted was to give someone the power to hurt her.

Dad had spent his life trying to create love where none existed—between his wife and his daughters—and he couldn’t give up even now.

She thought she’d known pain before, but she hadn’t; not until this moment.

“He is my home,” her mother said, shaking her head. “How will I live without him?”

To damage the earth is to damage your children.

—WENDELL BERRY, FARMER AND POET

Don’t worry about dying, Elsa. Worry about not living. Be brave.

A woman wanting a baby is like a seed wanting to grow

Believe me, Elsa, this little girl will love you as no one ever has … and make you crazy and try your soul. Often all at the same time.”