Read The Lost Hours Online

Authors: Karen White

The Lost Hours

Table of Contents
 
 
Writen by todaās freshest new talents and selected by New American Library, NAL Accent novels touch on subjects close to a woman’s heart, from friendship to family to finding our plāce in the world. The Conversation Guides included in each book are intended to enrich the individual reading experence, as well as encourage us to explore these topics togehter—because books, and life, are meānt for shāring.
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Praise for the Novels of Karen White
The House on Tradd Street
“Engaging ....White skillfully balances her tale at the meeting point of romance, mystery, and ghost story . . . a fun and satisfying read.”

Publishers Weekly
 
“White delivers funny characters, a solid plot, and an interesting twist in this novel about the South and its antebellum history.”—
Romantic Times
 
“Brilliant and engrossing . . . a rare gem . . . exquisitely told, rich in descriptions, and filled with multifaceted characters.”
—The Book Connection
 
“I loved this book! It was one of those that you struggle against putting down as the pages fly by. Karen White is an extremely talented and colorful writer with tons of imagination. If you are not a believer of the paranormal, you will be after reading this novel.”—Fresh Fiction
 
“The sights and smells of the old house, along with excellent dialogue and good pacing add up to a wonderful, mysterious, and ghostly tale.”
—Marilyn Heyman, Romance Reviews Today
The Memory of Water
“Beautifully written and as lyrical as the tides.
The Memory of Water
speaks directly to the heart and will linger in yours long after you’ve read the final page. I loved this book!”—Susan Crandall, author of
A Kiss in Winter
 
“Karen White delivers a powerfully emotional blend of family secrets, Lowcountry lore, and love in
The Memory of Water
—who could ask for more?”—Barbara Bretton, author of
Just Like Heaven
Learning to Breathe
“White creates a heartfelt story full of vibrant characters and emotion that leaves the reader satisfied yet hungry for more from this talented author.”—
Booklist
 
“One of those stories where you savor every single word . . . [a] perfect 10.”—Romance Reviews Today
 
“Another one of Karen White’s emotional books! A joy to read!”
—The Best Reviews
Pieces of the Heart
“Heartwarming and intense . . . a tale that resonates with the meaning of unconditional love.”—
Romantic Times
(4 stars)
 
“A terrific insightful character study.”—
Midwest Book Review
The Color of Light
“[White’s] prose is lyrical, and she weaves in elements of mysticism and romance without being heavy-handed. This is an accomplished novel about loss and renewal, and readers will be taken with the people and stories of Pawleys Island.”—
Booklist
 
“A story as rich as a coastal summer . . . dark secrets, heartache, a magnificent South Carolina setting, and a great love story.”

New York Times
bestselling author Deborah Smith
“An engaging read with a delicious taste of the mysterious.”

New York Times
bestselling author Haywood Smith
 
“Karen White’s novel is as lush as the Lowcountry, where the characters’ wounded souls come home to mend in unexpected and magical ways.”
—Patti Callahan Henry, award-winning author of
Between the Tides
 
Praise for the Other Novels
of Karen White
“The fresh voice of Karen White intrigues and delights.”
—Sandra Chastain, contributor to
Blessings at Mossy Creek
 
“Warmly Southern and deeply moving.”

New York Times
bestselling author Deborah Smith
 
“Karen White writes with passion and poignancy.”
—Deb Stover, award-winning author of
Mulligan Magic
 
“[A] sweet book . . . highly recommended.”—
Booklist
 
“This is not only romance at its best—this is a fully realized view of life at its fullest.”—Readers & Writers, Ink
 

After the Rain
is an elegantly enchanting Southern novel.... Fans will recognize the beauty of White’s evocative prose.”—
WordWeaving.com
 
“In the tradition of Catherine Anderson and Deborah Smith, Karen White’s
After the Rain
is an incredibly poignant contemporary bursting with Southern charm.”
—Patricia Rouse, Rouse’s Romance Readers Groups
 
“Don’t miss this book!”—
Rendezvous
New American Library Titles by Karen White
The Color of Light
Pieces of the Heart
Learnīng to Breathe
The Memory of Water
The Hoūse on Tradd Street
NAL Accent
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
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80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by NAL Accent, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
 
First Printing, April 2009
Copyright © Harley House Books, LLC, 2009
Conversation Guide copyright © Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2009
All rights reserved
 
 
NAL ACCENT REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
White, Karen (Karen S.)
The lost hours/Karen White.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-02882-7
1.Women in horse sports—Fiction. 2. Accident victims—Fiction. 3. Equestrian accidents—Fiction.
4. Grandparent and child—Fiction. 5. Grandmothers—Fiction. 6. Family secrets—Fiction.
7. Friendship in children—Fiction. 8. Self-actualization (Psychology)—Fiction. I.Title.
PS3623.H5776L67 2009
813’.6—dc22 2008053420
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

http://us.penguingroup.com

To my beautiful grandmother, Grace Bianca.
Thank you for sharing your stories.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my daughter, Meghan, and her trainer, Jen Bishop, for reminding me what it’s like to love horses again. And yes, Meghan, I do watch.
A huge thanks to Andi Winkle for your generosity in sharing your time and knowledge about horses with me. I hope you don’t mind being the stable manager at Asphodel Meadows or that I wrote in your broken nose but made it more glamorous than walking into a glass wall. Any mistakes about horses and equestrian events are completely mine.
And thanks to talented authors Wendy Wax and Susan Crandall, whose support and willingness to bump ideas with me is priceless. Thank you for always being honest, and for being my two-person pep squad when I need it.
As always, thank you to Tim, Meghan, and Connor for allowing me to follow my dreams.
The golden moments īn the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but sand;
The angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.
—George Eliot
CHAPTER 1
When I was twelve years old, I helped my granddaddy bury a box in the back garden of our Savannah house. I didn’t ask him what was in it. The box belonged to my grandmother, so I didn’t care. Long before the Alzheimer’s got her mind, a fear of living had taken hold of her spirit, convincing me that my grandmother had no stories worth listening to.
I squatted by the edge of the shallow hole in the middle of my grandmother’s peonies, smelling sweat and summer grass as I dug my fingers into the dark earth and held up my handfuls of dirt briefly before opening my clenched hands, the clods raining shadows onto the box below. The dirt struck the tin with soft patters like little fists against the sealed box, demanding the release of its secrets. I yawned and turned away, the box and whatever it might contain forgotten by the time the screen door of the back porch slammed shut behind me.

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