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Police chief of a small Massachusetts town, Cameron McDonald makes the toughest arrest of his life when his own cousin Jamie comes to him and confesses outright that he has killed his terminally ill wife out of mercy.
Now, a heated murder trial plunges the town into upheaval, and drives a wedge into a contented marriage: Cameron, aiding the prosecution in their case against Jamie, is suddenly at odds with his devoted wife, Allie -- seduced by the idea of a man so in love with his wife that he'd grant all her wishes, even her wish to end her life. And when an inexplicable attraction leads to a shocking betrayal, Allie faces the hardest questions of the heart: when does love cross the line of moral obligation? And what does it mean to truly love another?
Praised for her "personal, detail-rich style" (Glamour), Jodi Picoult infuses this page-turning novel with heart, warmth, and startling candor, taking readers on an unforgettable emotional journey.
“When did she ask you?” Graham said. “First? In January. We were in Quebec. It was after the chemotherapy, but before the radiation treatments for the eye. I sort of laughed it off.” “And then?” Jamie bent down to pick a twig out of the snow. He traced the footprint of a rabbit, white on white. “After her doctor’s appointment that week in September. She went on a Friday—she always scheduled the last appointment of the day, because she wanted to put in a full day of work before
service, and a good number of people turned out considering she had been an outsider from another town.” “Did you observe Jamie at his wife’s funeral?” Hugo cleared his throat. “I did. He was crying so much I don’t think he even knew he was doing it, and he physically could not stand up. He actually didn’t make it through the whole service. To tell you the truth, I’ve never seen the like.” “Did he happen to say anything at the funeral in Gaelic?” Hugo smiled. “Yes,” he said.
bench behind him. “I didn’t know you were still here,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m trying to get a feel for the courtroom without the noise. You know, is it a positive place or a negative one.” Jamie swung one leg over the separating railing. “I guess that depends on if you’re the prosecutor or the defendant.” “So,” Ellen said, laying a hand on his knee. “What are you going to do when this is all over?” She looked up at him with such fierce expectation that Jamie almost
different,” he muttered, talking to himself as he pulled on a pair of twill trousers and a pilled Shetland sweater. Once, when he’d been caretaker of Carrymuir, he’d seen the ghost of Mary Queen of Scots herself, sailing away from Loch Leven Castle dressed as a laddie, as she’d been when she escaped its prison hundreds of years before. It had left him with a queer feeling in his stomach and a beating in his head not unlike a hangover—sensations he felt right now. Angus knew that although
taken her until yesterday to figure out Allie’s system of organizing flowers. The cooler was not arranged by availability or popularity of flowers, or even by color, but by what the flowers were supposed to represent. She knew that once, bouquets had been sent as a message, not just as ornaments of beauty. When Mia had first become interested in floral arrangement, she’d been fascinated by this philosophy. Evidently, Allie was fascinated as well. She’d bunched the flowers with positive qualities