Cathryn Deen had it all: beauty, fame and fortune. Then a
fiery car accident left her scarred and reclusive. She is
now an object of morbid curiosity instead of adoration. The
only thing that gets her through the painful days of rehab
and recovery are phone calls and care packages from her
cousin, Delta Whittlespoon, who lives in the small town of
Crossroads, North Carolina. Within those packages are
Delta's famous biscuits and gravy, but also photographs
from Delta's friend Thomas -- images of the beautiful
mountain region that soothe Cathryn's spirit and make her
grateful to this kind stranger.
But Thomas Mitternich does not consider himself kind. As
scarred on the inside as Cathryn is on the outside, Thomas
drinks too much and drifts like a ghost through his own
life. Tortured by guilt after losing his wife and young son
on September 11, he left New York and wandered aimlessly
until he stumbled into Crossroads, where he's settled, at
least for the moment. He still doesn't care much whether he
lives or dies, but after Delta tells him about Cathy, he
finds himself caring about a woman he's never even met.
When Cathy escapes L.A. and arrives in Crossroads, all she
wants is to be left alone. But she can't escape the
attention of the small, close-knit community or Delta's
maternal instincts. When Cathy meets Thomas, these two
wounded souls form a strange alliance. Even while submerged
in their own pain, each tries to help the other heal. Can
Cathy overcome her fears and the shame of her scars to ever
allow true intimacy or joy into her life? Can Thomas
finally forgive himself and start living again, rather than
merely existing?
This beautifully written, intensely emotional and sometimes
wryly humorous story isn't always easy to read. There are
no quick fixes or magical cures for Cathy or Thomas -- and
even the "happy" people in Crossroads have their share of
heartaches. But ultimately, the book is about the strength
and resiliency of the human spirit and the power of love to
shed light into darkness. Not only are the characters
compelling and interesting, but the mountain setting, so
vividly and lovingly described, is almost a character in
itself. Whether or not you can identify with Cathy's or
Thomas' experiences, I think this book will touch your
heart, and you'll wish you could return to Crossroads time
and again.
A beautiful woman, scarred for life.
A tortured man, seeking redemption.
Brought together by fate in a small town
high in the majestic Appalachian mountains.
Live. Love. Believe.
Excerpt
Prologue
Crossroads, North Carolina
The Blue Ridge Mountains
Before the accident, I never had to seduce a man in the
dark. I dazzled millions in the brutal glare of kliegs on
the red carpets of Hollywood, the flash of cameras at the
Oscars, the sunlight on the piazzas of Cannes. Beautiful
women don't fear the glint of lust and judgment in men’s
eyes, or the bitter gleam of envy in women’s. Beautiful
women welcome even the brightest light. Once upon a time,
I had been the most beautiful woman in the world.
Now I needed the night, the darkness, the shadows.
“Put the gun down,” I ordered, as I let my bra and white t-
shirt fall to the ground. Behind me, a full, white moon
hung in a sky of stars above the summer mountains,
silhouetting Thomas and me. Frogs trilled in the forest.
Beneath my bare feet, the pasture grass was soft and wet
with summer dew, glistening in the moonlight. There were
no bright lights in our world, not the pinpoint of a lamp
in some distant window, not the wink of a jet high
overhead. There might be no other souls in these ancient
North Carolina ridges that night. Only Thomas, and me, and
the darkness inside us both.
“I’m warning you for the last time, Cathryn,” he said, his
voice thick but firm. He wasn’t a man who slurred his
words, no matter how drunk he was. “Leave.”
I unzipped my jeans. My hands trembled. I couldn’t stop
staring at the World War II pistol he held so casually,
his right arm bent, the gun pointed skyward. Thomas had
been a preservation architect; he respected fine
craftsmanship, even when choosing a gun with which to kill
himself.
Slowly I pushed my jeans down, along with my panties. The
scarred skin along my right thigh prickled at the scrape
of denim. I angled my right side away from the moon,
trying to illuminate only the left half of my body, my
face. Half of me was still perfect. But the other
half . . .
I stepped out of my crumpled clothes and stood there
naked, the moonlight safely behind me. The night breeze
was a tongue of embarrassment, licking my scarred flesh.
My hand twitched with the urge to cover my face. How badly
I wanted to hide the awful parts. Thomas watched me
without moving, without speaking, without breathing.
He doesn’t want me, I thought. I said quietly, “Thomas, I
know I’m no prize, but would you really rather kill
yourself than touch me?”
Not a word, still, not a flicker of reaction. I could
barely see his expression in the shadows, and wasn’t sure
I wanted to. The uglies came over me like a cold tide. A
festering wave of withdrawal – shyness and anger
multiplied times a thousand. Me, who had once preened for
the world without a shred of self-doubt.
I turned my back to him, trying not to shiver with
defeat. “Just put the gun down. Then I’ll get dressed, and
we’ll forget this ever happened.”
I heard quick steps behind me, and before I could turn,
his arms went around me from behind. His hands slid over
my bare skin. I twisted my head to the pretty side but he
bent his lips to the other and roughly kissed the rivulets
of ruined flesh
No matter what might happen to us later, I saved his life
that night. And, for that one night, at least, he saved
mine. Hope is in the mirror we keep inside us, love sees
only what it wants to see, and beauty is in the lie of the
beholder.
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