CHAPTER 1

June 1978

Despite tranquil blue skies and only a slight onshore breeze,the air felt chilly today. Or maybe it was just her. Anna pulledher cardigan more tightly around her as she looked out overthe sparkling river. Perched on the hand-hewn log bench, shestared blankly toward the river and surveying her old faithfuldugout canoe, let out a long, weary sigh. She'd gotten upextra early this morning. Planning to paddle the Water Doveupriver, she'd wanted to soak in the sunshine, breathe thefresh summer air, clear the cobwebs from her head, and gatherher strength for the day.

She'd imagined paddling hard and steady upstream andfinally, after her arms grew tired, she would turn the canoearound and allow the river's current to carry her back home... back to Clark and Lauren and the Inn at Shining Waters.But now she felt it was useless ... futile even. She simply didn'thave the strength to pull the dugout down the riverbank andinto the water. Planting her elbows on her knees she leanedforward and buried her face in her hands. A praying position,and yet she had no words. Nothing left to pray. Alreadyshe felt emotionally drained, and it was still early morning.How would she ever make it through this painful day ... herbeloved granddaughter's eighteenth birthday? It didn't seempossible that Sarah would've been eighteen by now.

More than two years had passed since Sarah had vanishedfrom their lives. As far as they knew she'd run off with herboyfriend, Zane. She'd only been sixteen—just a child—andyet old for her years. Anna had tried to appear strong, hopingthat eventually Sarah would return to them. In the meantime,she put her energies into working hard alongside Clarkand Lauren. The three of them, connected in their silent grief,cooperated with one another as they kept the inn going andthriving, making constant improvements, increasing the business,faithfully serving the never-ending roster of eager guests.

It was for the sake of these guests, and even more so forher family, that Anna had maintained a positive outlook asshe went through her daily routines. But beneath her veneerof hopeful confidence, the concerns for her granddaughter'swelfare had remained in the shadows. How was it possible thatSarah had so completely disappeared? Without a word—nota single letter or phone call—the sixteen-year-old had seeminglyvanished from the face of the earth. And for two years,despite her family's best efforts to locate her, Sarah was not tobe found. What did it mean?

Anna's unspoken fear was that Sarah had come to seriousharm ... that perhaps she was even dead. Otherwise, shesurely would've contacted them. At least, Clark had said earlyon, she would've contacted Anna. Because, as he pointed out,the bond between Anna and her granddaughter had alwaysbeen a strong one—symbiotic. Besides that, Anna felt ituncharacteristic for Sarah to be so selfish and inconsiderateto cut them off so completely. Even in adolescence and amidsther parents' marital troubles, Sarah had been thoughtful andmature. She wasn't the sort of person to intentionally putothers through such pain and misery. As hard as it was to faceit, the only logical explanation was that something had happenedto the girl. Something tragic.

Still, no one ever voiced these mute terrors. Saying thewords out loud would make it seem too real. So Anna and theothers had clung to the hope that Sarah was alive, that she hadsimply chosen to separate herself from her family, and thatsomeday she would return. But as months passed, and as oneyear slipped into the next, Sarah's name was spoken much lessfrequently. And if her name was mentioned, there was alwaysan uncomfortable pause that followed ... a quiet awkwardmoment would linger before the conversation resumed itself.

But realistically—as painful as it would be—it might beeasier if they were informed Sarah was actually deceased. Atleast they could properly grieve for her then. They could holda memorial service to remember her and to celebrate the yearsof her life that had been so sweet ... so innocent ... so pure.Perhaps they might even build a monument of sorts ... atthe very least a special plaque or carved stone—they couldset it right here by the river, and it would be a quiet placewhere they could come to think and to grieve and to rememberSarah's short but beautiful life in their midst.

Anna sat up straight now, gazing out over the river again.But in lieu of the crisp and clear diamond sparkles on thesurface, she now saw a blurry watercolor image instead. It alllooked murky and distorted ... and hot tears ran freely downher cheeks. She hated to be weak like this ... to give into thiskind of sadness and despair. But it all seemed so senseless ...so unfair ... that a grandmother should outlive her granddaughter.It was just wrong.

She pressed her lips together, using the palms of herhands to wipe away her tears. This would not do. She had toremain strong today. As much for Lauren's sake as for her ownbecause she knew Lauren would be especially mindful of heronly daughter today. Eighteen years ago, Sarah had made herentrance into this world. And although Lauren hadn't reallybeen prepared for motherhood, it had been a happy day forAnna. She had felt an immediate bond with her granddaughter.

As difficult as it would be, Anna was determined to pullthis off. She intended to make this a good day. If any wordswere spoken of Sarah, they would be positive words, rememberingall the sweetness that the girl had brought into all theirlives ... despite the brevity of her stay. Anna took in a slowdeep breath and stood. She would be strong and of good courage.There would be time enough for tears tomorrow.

As Anna turned toward the house, she heard the soundof a boat's motor coming up the river. Pausing to listen tothe rhythm of the engine, she couldn't help but rememberthe comforting sound of Henry's old boat. How she misseddeep chortling echoing along the hills of the river. She missedHenry, too. As well as Babette ... and so many others. Timesand people had changed over the years, but the Siuslaw Riverremained the same, moving out to the sea, being pushed backgently with the incoming tide, always on the move.

Her people had lived alongside and loved this river forcountless generations before her. Her grandmother's old storiesmade references to them. According to Hazel's research,the Siuslaw had been a matriarchal society. And Anna hadknown that it was the women who had handed down the traditionsand what little belongings that were accumulated ina lifetime. Anna had always hoped to do the same, to leave atimeless inheritance for the generations that followed her, fromLauren to Sarah ... to Sarah's descendants. But it seemed thatwas not meant to be. Perhaps the heritage of the shining waterswas going to end far sooner than she'd expected.

Anna was nearly at the main house when she heard theboat's engine slowing down, and when she looked, it was veeringtoward their dock. It looked like the Greeley's Groceriesboat. In an attempt to increase business, the store in townhad decided to make deliveries on the river during the touristmonths. Mostly, Anna supposed, because the youngestGreeley boy wanted an excuse to have a motorboat. But theirgroceries had been delivered yesterday, and she wasn't expectinganything else today. Cupping her hand over her eyes, shepeered to see Bobby Greeley at the helm. Sure enough, he wasstopping at their dock.

"Hello, Bobby," she called out as she walked toward thedock to meet him. "What are you doing out—" She stoppedherself as she stared in wonder at the waiflike, dark-haired girlhuddled in the back of the boat. Wrapped in an olive greenwoolen blanket, she looked at Anna with large, dark eyes. Sad,hollow eyes.

"Sarah?" Anna felt her heart give a lurch. And suddenly shewas running down the dock. Blinking in disbelief, she staredat the girl. "Is that you? Sarah?"

The girl nodded mutely as she stood, letting the blanket fallonto the bench behind her. "Grandma," she said quietly.

"Oh, Sarah!" Anna grabbed the rope from Bobby and hastilytied it then climbed into the boat and threw her arms aroundthe trembling girl and began to sob tears of joy. "I can't believeit. I cannot believe it!" Now she held Sarah back with straightenedarms, looking deeply into her eyes just to be certain shewasn't imagining this moment. "It really is you!"

They were both crying now, hugging each other tightlyuntil finally Anna knew that she needed to get Sarah up tothe house. She glanced at poor Bobby, who was watching withtroubled eyes, as if he wasn't sure what to do about this femininedisplay of emotions.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Anna told him. "I'm just so overwhelmed.This is my granddaughter, Sarah. I haven't seen her for years."

"That's okay, ma'am."

"Thank you for bringing her out to us," Anna quickly toldhim. "I, uh, I assume you'll just put the charges on our bill."

He nodded.

"Come on, Sarah." Anna helped her out of the boat. "Let'sget you inside." She looked around the boat now. "Do you haveany bags?"

Sarah simply shook her head. Now Anna studied hergranddaughter more carefully. Looking painfully thin beneatha long raggedy dress of faded blue calico that reached nearly toher bare ankles, she had on worn leather sandals, and her longdark hair was uncombed and dull looking. Anna put her armaround Sarah's shoulders, holding her close as they walked upthe dock.

"Is my mother still here with you?" Sarah asked quietly.

"Yes. She helps with the inn."

Sarah stopped walking. "I don't want to see her."

Anna looked into Sarah's eyes now. "Your mother haschanged, Sarah, a lot. She's like a different person."

Sarah's dark eyes seemed even darker. "I don't care. I don'twant to see her."

Anna didn't know what to do.

Sarah looked back to where the boat was pulling away fromthe dock. "Maybe I just should leave and go back to—"

"No." Anna's hold on Sarah grew tighter. "You can't leave.Not until we talk." She hugged Sarah close to her again. "Wehave been worried sick about you, Sarah. You have family here.We love you. And even if you and your mother had your problems,you still belong here with us. Do you understand that?"

Sarah just sniffed.

Anna looked into her eyes again. "This is your home, too,Sarah. This is your river. Clark and I ... and Hazel ... andyour mother ... we all love you."

Sarah still seemed unsure.

"Please, trust me, Sarah," Anna said quietly. She was desperatelytrying to think of a plan to ease Sarah back into theirworld. Her old room in the house might feel too confining, tooclose to the rest of them. Plus, Anna knew Lauren was alreadyin the kitchen working on breakfast. And since the summerseason had just begun, the inn was full. But then Anna rememberedthat Hazel's cabin, the same cabin that once belongedto Anna's grandmother was unoccupied right now. Hazel wastouring in Asia and wouldn't be home for a couple of weeks.

"I know," Anna told her. "You'll stay in The Oyster."

"Grandma Pearl's cabin?"

Anna smiled as she hooked her arm into Sarah's. "That'sright. And that would make Grandma Pearl very happy!"

Some of the guests were milling around the grounds now.Some said hello and some just looked curiously at her andSarah. She knew that Sarah looked like someone who hadstepped out of a different world, almost as if she'd been livingin a different era, and she knew that Sarah probably had astory to tell. And Anna certainly had plenty of questions. Butnot right now.

"You look tired," Anna said as she opened the door and ledSarah into the sweet little cabin.

"I am." Sarah went over to the table by the window thatfaced the river and, running a finger over the grain of the pine,looked out with a wistful expression.

"I want you to make yourself at home," Anna told her. "Ifyou like, I won't even tell your mother that you're here yet. Youcan have a shower, and I'll bring you down some breakfast andsome clothes and things. You'll eat and you'll rest and thenwe'll talk." She stroked Sarah's tangled hair. "Okay?"

Sarah just looked at her. Her eyes reminded Anna of afrightened doe.

Anna put both her hands on Sarah's cheeks, once againpeering into those troubled dark eyes. "You are home, darling.This river and this inn and even this old cabin ... theyall belong to you just as much as they belong to me. Do youunderstand what I am saying to you?"

Sarah still looked unsure, but at least she nodded.

Anna hugged her again. "You are home, Sarah. At long last,you are home." She kissed Sarah's cheek then promised toreturn quickly with some food. And then, feeling as if she hadwings on her feet, Anna ran up to the house, with each stepwondering how she would share this good news.