She thought-hoped-she'd found a way, not only to use that time, but to celebrate what her parents had given her, to unite those gifts with family and friendships. Time, she'd determined, needed to be used and pushed and moved. Instead of learning to ride those waves, she'd felt herself being swept deeper and deeper down into the dark. G, or hear her father wheeling a deal in his home office. She'd never again run downstairs and find her mother laughing in the kitchen with Mrs. The beauty and elegance of the Brown Estate seemed deeper, sharper to her somehow, knowing she wouldn't see her parents strolling through the gardens. She had the constant, unshakable support of their longtime housekeeper, Mrs. They'd been the glue mending and holding all the shattered pieces of her world. Her friends Mac, Emma, Laurel, a part of her life, a part of her, since childhood. Her brother-and she didn't know if she'd have survived this grieving time without Del-had been a rock to cling to in that wide, wide ocean of shock and sorrow. Parker hoped they were right, but as she stood on her bedroom terrace in the late-summer sun, months after the sudden, shocking deaths of her parents, those capricious waves continued to roll.
People-good, caring people-claimed time would heal. Other days the waves were slow and swamping, threatening to drown the soul. Grief came in waves, hard and choppy, buffeting and breaking the heart.
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