The Memory Thief: A Novel
Language: English
Pages: 432
ISBN: 034553039X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In Emily Colin’s exquisite debut novel, perfect for the fans of Kristin Hannah, one man’s vow to his wife sparks a remarkable journey that tests the pull of memory and reaffirms the bonds of love.
Before Madeleine Kimble’s mountaineer husband, Aidan, climbs Mount McKinley’s south face, he makes her a solemn vow: I will come back to you. But late one night, Maddie gets the devastating news that Aidan has died in an avalanche, leaving her to care for their son—a small boy with a very big secret. The call comes from J.C., Aidan’s best friend and fellow climber, whose grief is seasoned with survivor’s guilt . . . and something more. J.C. has loved Maddie for years, but he never wanted his chance with her to come at so terrible a cost.
Across the country, Nicholas Sullivan wakes from a motorcycle crash with his memory wiped clean. Yet his dreams are haunted by visions of a mysterious woman and a young boy, neither of whom he has ever met. Convinced that these strangers hold the answers he seeks, Nicholas leaves everything behind to find them. What he discovers will require a leap of faith that will change all of their lives forever.
“Dazzlingly original and as haunting as a dream, Emily Colin’s mesmerizing debut explores the way memory, love, and great loss bind our lives together in ways we might never expect. From its audacious opening to its knockout last pages, I was enthralled.”—Caroline Leavitt, New York Times bestselling author of Pictures of You
“In The Memory Thief, love itself is a character, able to transcend all natural boundaries to find its way home, or learn to let go. Emily Colin writes about loss with heartbreaking conviction, and yet there is a knowing sweetness at the core of this richly emotional tale. Here is a lovely, self-assured debut from a writer to watch.”—Joshilyn Jackson, New York Times bestselling author of A Grown-Up Kind of Pretty
implies a lack of premeditation.” “I didn’t plan to do it,” she says. “It just … piled up.” “Now that I believe,” I say, and I force a rueful smile. It doesn’t cost me anything. This will end the same way, anyhow. I can do my best not to make it ugly. Well, uglier. Relief sweeps her face when she sees me smile, and I sigh. She eyes me cautiously, like she’s waiting for me to snap at her again. “I hope one day you can forgive me,” she ventures, and because I hope that, too—who wants to walk
ago, I have faith. At the edge of the cliff again, I do what is so unlike me. For the second time in my life, I look into the unknown, and I jump. “You’ll have your chance,” I tell J.C. “For real?” he says. “No hiding, no keeping secrets? Like a real couple, out in the world?” I shudder at the thought of what our friends will make of this development. It won’t be pretty, and I can just imagine the vicious gossip that will spread. But I know that if I act ashamed of whatever’s between us, I
Then she is ripped from my grasp. I am falling. Above me I can see her face receding, a pale oval in the night, her lips an O of horror. I tumble ass over teakettle down a steep slope, I am pinioned. I see her face again but this time it’s like a photographic still, the same old image, her head thrown back, her mouth open wide with laughter. I see the small boy, the dark-haired man, I hear the words. I can’t breathe I can’t breathe. My desire is ice, it is gone, I am gone. This time when I wake
He starts tickling Gabe, who shrieks. “And you!” he says to me over Gabe’s squeals. “What do you mean, you heard? What were you doing, listening at the bathroom door?” “Oops. You got me.” J.C. gives me a mock glare. “Your mother is a spy,” he tells Gabriel. “I hope you know that.” Gabe has stopped laughing and he looks me over with his big blue eyes, like he’s taking my measure. “She is very, very sneaky,” he says to J.C., as serious as it’s possible for a four-year-old to sound. “She is a
entertain, it has to be just that—something I decide, something I want and take responsibility for. And that’s where everything falls apart. I feel guilty for sleeping with J.C., guilty for wanting him. I feel guilty for asking him to leave, guilty for thinking about asking him to come back. How can I miss Aidan so badly and think about being with someone else, no matter that I’ve known J.C. as long as I’ve known Aidan, that he can tell what I’m going to say or do before I’ve figured it out