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  Outstanding Praise for the Novels of T. Greenwood

  Grace

  “Grace is a poetic, compelling story that glows in its subtle, yet searing examination of how we attempt to fill the potentially devastating fissures in our lives. Each character is masterfully drawn; each struggles in their own way to find peace amid tumultuous circumstance. With her always crisp imagery and fearless language, Greenwood doesn’t back down from the hard issues or the darker sides of the human psyche, managing to create astounding empathy and a balanced view of each player along the way. The story expertly builds to a breathtaking climax, leaving the reader with a clear understanding of how sometimes, only a moment of grace can save us.”

  —Amy Hatvany, author of Best Kept Secret

  “Grace is at once heartbreaking, thrilling, and painfully beautiful. From the opening page, to the breathless conclusion, T. Greenwood again shows why she is one of our most gifted and lyrical storytellers.”

  —Jim Kokoris, author of The Pursuit of Other Interests

  “Greenwood has given us a family we are all fearful of becoming—creeping toward scandal, flirting with financial disaster, and hovering on the verge of dissolution. Grace is a masterpiece of small-town realism that is as harrowing as it is heartfelt.”

  —Jim Ruland, author of Big Lonesome

  Nearer Than the Sky

  “Greenwood is an assured guide through this strange territory; she has a lush, evocative style.”

  —The New York Times Book Review

  “T. Greenwood writes with grace and compassion about loyalty and betrayal, love and redemption in this totally absorbing novel about daughters and mothers.”

  —Ursula Hegi, author of Stones from the River

  “A lyrical investigation into the unreliability and elusiveness of memory centers Greenwood’s second novel.... The kaleidoscopic heart of the story is rich with evocative details about its heroine’s inner life.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Compelling ... Highly recommended.”

  —Library Journal

  “Doesn’t disappoint. A complicated story of love and abuse told with a directness and intensity that packs a lightning charge.”

  —Booklist

  “Nearer Than the Sky is a remarkable portrait of resilience. With clarity and painful precision, T. Greenwood probes the dark history of Indie’s family.”

  —René Steinke, author of The Fires and Holy Skirts

  “Greenwood’s writing is lyrical and original. There is warmth and even humor and love. Her representation of MSBP is meticulous.”

  —San Diego Union-Tribune

  “Deft handling of a difficult and painful subject ... compelling.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Potent ... Greenwood’s clear-eyed prose takes the stuff of tabloid television and lends it humanity.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle

  “T. Greenwood brings stunning psychological richness and authenticity to Nearer Than the Sky. Hers is the very first work of fiction to accurately address factitious disorders and Munchausen by proxy—the curious, complex, and dramatic phenomena in which people falsify illness to meet their own deep emotional needs.”

  —Marc D. Feldman, M.D., author of Patient or Pretender and Playing Sick?: Untangling the Web of Munchausen Syndrome, Munchausen by Proxy, Malingering, and Factitious Disorder, and co-author of Sickened: The Memoir of a Munchausen by Proxy Childhood

  This Glittering World

  “In This Glittering World, T. Greenwood demonstrates once again that she is a poet and storyteller of unique gifts, not the least of which is a wise and compassionate heart.”

  —Drusilla Campbell, author of The Good Sister and Blood Orange

  “T. Greenwood’s novel This Glittering World is swift, stark, calamitous. Her characters, their backs against the wall, confront those difficult moments that will define them and Greenwood paints these troubled lives with attention, compassion, and hope. Through it all, we are caught on the dangerous fault lines of a culturally torn northern Arizona, where the small city of Flagstaff butts up against the expansive Navajo Reservation and the divide between the two becomes manifest. As this novel about family, friendship, and allegiance swirls toward its tumultuous climax, This Glittering World asks us how it is that people sometimes choose to turn toward redemption, and sometimes choose its opposite—how it is, finally, that we become the people we become.”

  —Jerry Gabriel, author of Drowned Boy and winner of the

  Mary McCarthy Prize in Short Fiction

  “Stark, taut, and superbly written, this dark tale brims with glimpses of the Southwest and scenes of violence, gruesome but not gratuitous. This haunting look at a fractured family is certain to please readers of literary suspense.”

  —Library Journal (starred)

  “Greenwood’s prose is beautiful. Her writing voice is simple but emotional.”

  —Romantic Times Book Reviews

  Undressing the Moon

  “This beautiful story, eloquently told, demands attention.”

  —Library Journal (starred review)

  “Greenwood has skillfully managed to create a novel with unforgettable characters, finely honed descriptions, and beautiful imagery.”

  —Book Street USA

  “A lyrical, delicately affecting tale.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Rarely has a writer rendered such highly charged topics ... to so wrenching, yet so beautifully understated, an effect.... T. Greenwood takes on risky subject matter, handling her volatile topics with admirable restraint.... Ultimately more about life than death, Undressing the Moon beautifully elucidates the human capacity to maintain grace under unrelenting fire.”

  —The Los Angeles Times

  The Hungry Season

  “This compelling study of a family in need of rescue is very effective, owing to Greenwood’s eloquent, exquisite word artistry and her knack for developing subtle, suspenseful scenes ... Greenwood’s sensitive and gripping examination of a family in crisis is real, complex, and anything but formulaic.”

  —Library Journal (starred review)

  “A deeply psychological read.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Can there be life after tragedy? How do you live with the loss of a child, let alone the separation emotionally from all your loved ones? T. Greenwood with beautiful prose poses this question while delving into the psyches of a successful man, his wife, and his son... . This is a wonderful story, engaging from the beginning that gets better with every chapter.”

  —The Washington Times

  Two Rivers

  “From the moment the train derails in the town of Two Rivers, I was hooked. Who is this mysterious young stranger named Maggie, and what is she running from? In Two Rivers, T. Greenwood weaves a haunting story in which the sins of the past threaten to destroy the fragile equilibrium of the present. Ripe with surprising twists and heartbreakingly real characters, Two Rivers is a remarkable and complex look at race and forgiveness in small-town America.”

  —Michelle Richmond, New York Times bestselling author of The Year of Fog and No One You Know

  “Two Rivers is a convergence of tales, a reminder that the past never washes away, and yet, in T. Greenwood’s delicate handling of time gone and time to come, love and forgiveness wait on the other side of what life does to us and what we do to it. This novel is a sensitive and suspenseful portrayal of family and the ties that bind.”

  —Lee Martin, author of The Bright Forever and River of Heaven

  “The premise of Two Rivers is alluring: the very morning a deadly train derailment upsets the balance of a sleepy Vermont town, a mysterious girl shows up on Harper Montgomery’s doorstep, forcing him to dredge up a lifetime of memories—from his blissfu
l, indelible childhood to his lonely, contemporary existence. Most of all, he must look long and hard at that terrible night twelve years ago, when everything he held dear was taken from him, and he, in turn, took back. T. Greenwood’s novel is full of love, betrayal, lost hopes, and a burning question: is it ever too late to find redemption?”

  —Miranda Beverly-Whittemore, author of The Effects of Light and the Janet Heidinger Kafka Prize–winning Set Me Free

  “Greenwood is a writer of subtle strength, evoking small-town life beautifully while spreading out the map of Harper’s life, finding light in the darkest of stories.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “T. Greenwood’s writing shimmers and sings as she braids together past, present, and the events of one desperate day. I ached for Harper in all of his longing, guilt, grief, and vast, abiding love, and I rejoiced at his final, hard-won shot at redemption.”

  —Marisa de los Santos, New York Times bestselling author of Belong to Me and Love Walked In

  “Two Rivers is a stark, haunting story of redemption and salvation. T. Greenwood portrays a world of beauty and peace that, once disturbed, reverberates with searing pain and inescapable consequences; this is a story of a man who struggles with the deepest, darkest parts of his soul, and is able to fight his way to the surface to breathe again. But also—maybe more so—it is the story of a man who learns the true meaning of family: When I am with you, I am home. A memorable, powerful work.”

  —Garth Stein, New York Times bestselling author of The Art of Racing in the Rain

  “A complex tale of guilt, remorse, revenge, and forgiveness ... Convincing. . . Interesting ...”

  —Library Journal

  “In the tradition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and To Kill a Mockingbird, T. Greenwood’s Two Rivers is a wonderfully distinctive American novel, abounding with memorable characters, unusual lore and history, dark family secrets, and love of life. Two Rivers is the story that people want to read: the one they have never read before.”

  —Howard Frank Mosher, author of Walking to Gatlinburg

  “Two Rivers is a dark and lovely elegy, filled with heartbreak that turns itself into hope and forgiveness. I felt so moved by this luminous novel.”

  —Luanne Rice, New York Times bestselling author

  “Two Rivers is reminiscent of Thornton Wilder, with its quiet New England town shadowed by tragedy, and of Sherwood Anderson, with its sense of desperate loneliness and regret.... It’s to Greenwood’s credit that she answers her novel’s mysteries in ways that are believable, that make you feel the sadness that informs her characters’ lives.”

  —BookPage

  Books by T. Greenwood

  Grace

  This Glittering World

  The Hungry Season

  Two Rivers

  Undressing the Moon

  Nearer Than the Sky

  Breathing Water

  GRACE

  T. GREEN WOOD

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Outstanding Praise for the Novels of T. Greenwood

  Books by T. Greenwood

  Title Page

  Dedication

  WINTER

  LAST SPRING

  LAST SUMMER

  LAST FALL

  GRACE

  Acknowledgments

  Discussion Questions

  NEARER THAN THE SKY

  THIS GLITTERING WORLD

  UNDRESSING THE MOON

  THE HUNGRY SEASON

  TWO RIVERS

  Copyright Page

  In memory of:

  Justin Aaberg

  Cody J. Barker

  Brandon Bitner

  Asher Brown

  Harrison Chase Brown

  Raymond Chase

  Tyler Clementi

  Alec Henrikson

  Jaheem Herrera

  Nicholas Kelo, Jr.

  Lawrence King

  Billy Lucas

  Lance Lundsten

  Eric Mohat

  Caleb Nolt

  Felix Sacco

  Carl Walker-Hoover

  Seth Walsh

  and all the other tragic casualties of hatred and intolerance.

  We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.

  —Anaïs Nin

  I found that snowflakes were miracles of beauty; and it seemed a shame that this beauty should not be seen and appreciated by others. Every crystal was a masterpiece of design ... When a snowflake melted, that design was forever lost. Just that much beauty was gone, without leaving any record behind.

  —photographer Wilson “Snowflake” Bentley, 1925

  WINTER

  Kurt is suddenly aware of the way the snow looks like something living, like something with a purpose. He has always thought of snow as simply falling from the sky, at mercy to gravity. But now, as he marches out across the snow-covered field behind the house, his rifle drawn and aimed at the back of his only son’s head, he sees that it is intent in its falling. Resolute, determined, even calculated in its descent.

  Trevor is three feet ahead of him, trudging through the snow, bare hands shoved into his pockets, head bowed in deference to the blistering assault. It is midnight, but the sky is opaque and bright. It is only December, but it has been snowing for two days straight; they are up to their shins in it. Trevor is not wearing a coat, hat, or gloves. He is in jeans and the navy chamois shirt he had on when Kurt dragged him from his room into the mudroom, where he had allowed him to put on his boots before pushing him through the door into this cold, white night.

  As they pass the unmarked boundary between their property and their neighbors’, Trevor hits a deep patch of snow and sinks in up to his knees. If you didn’t know better, you might think he was praying, only genuflecting to the falling snow.

  As Trevor struggles to move forward, he glances over his shoulder at his father. For years, the arch of his brow, the thick dimple in his chin, the boyish smirk have been like reflections in a mirror held up to Kurt’s own boyhood. This used to make him swell a bit with proprietary pride. But now these similarities seem to mock him, accuse him. You made this, they say. You are this.

  “Dad,” Trevor says, but Kurt can’t hear. It’s as though his head is full of snow—cold, thick, numb. “Daddy.” Snot has frozen in two slow paths from nose to lip. His eyes are swollen.

  Trevor is thirteen, and he looks exactly like Kurt did at thirteen. He is the same height, the same weight. He has identical ears, the same bent pinkie finger, Kurt’s slight overbite and white-blond hair.

  When they finally get to the top of the hill where Kurt used to take Trevor sledding when he was a little boy, to the place where the entire world shimmers then disappears in the valley below, Kurt says, “Stop.”

  The sound of his voice is like ice breaking. Like springtime at Joe’s Pond when the ice goes out. The crack, the shift, the signal that the thaw has begun. But Kurt knows that this is a weakness he cannot afford. He must stay solid, frozen, numb. There cannot be any cracks, any fissures in this ice.

  They are far enough away now from the house where, on any other night, they would be sleeping. But the house is empty. There is no one to hear the gunshots.

  “Turn around,” Kurt says.

  Trevor turns to face him again. But this time, it’s not the face of a child he sees. Nor is it the face of the monster he has turned into. Instead, his hair is covered in a thin layer of white, and Kurt can see the old man each of them might one day become.

  Trevor puts his hands up, as if his palms might be enough to protect him. “Don’t, Daddy,” he pleads.

  At this, Kurt lowers his rifle, turning his gaze from his son to the sky. He watches the shards of ice, the intricate, gorgeous filaments, as they continue to fall. And he thinks of the news footage he saw right after the attacks on the World Trade Center, before the media realized w
hat they were showing—the men who broke windows, climbed ledges, and leapt to their deaths. The falling men, the men forced to choose one kind of death over another.

  Kurt looks back at Trevor, who is crying now, tears and snot freezing upon impact with the air. He lifts his gun to his shoulder again, and the snow makes a lens of ice as he peers down the sight.

  LAST SPRING

  It started with a gift.

  The box was blue, the same color blue as the eggs Trevor found up in the eaves of the shed earlier that morning, the color of crushed-up sky. Mrs. D. gave it to him after the bell rang and almost everybody else had already packed up their stuff and headed out the door. He was messing around in his backpack, worrying about where he was going to sit at lunch, and didn’t know that she was trying to get his attention. But then she touched his arm, real soft, with her talcum-powder hands and said, “Trevor dear, can you wait just a minute, please? I have something for you.”