“I’m afraid to hope,” she confessed in a voice barely above a whisper, and my heart broke into pieces for her. The damage humans could inflict on one another remained an awful mystery. Emily sank down in front of her. “You are seven years out of a relationship that could have killed you. You got your master’s degree and landed the job you always wanted. You put your kids through private school. And you make damn fine pottery on the weekends. Scars or not, you are hope.”
