Praise for
Diane Chamberlain
âEmotional, complex and laced with suspense, this fascinating story is a brilliant read.â
âCloser
âAn excellent readâ
âThe Sun
âThis complex tale will stick with you forever.â
âNow
âA hugely addictive twist in the tale makes this a sizzling sofa read ⦠a deeply compelling and moving new novel.â
âHeat
âThis exquisite novel about love and friendship is written like a thriller ⦠you wonât want to put it down.â
âBella
âA bittersweet story about regret and hopeâ
âPublishers Weekly
âA brilliantly told thrillerâ
âWoman
âAn engaging and absorbing story thatâll have you racing through pages to finishâ
âPeopleâs Friend
âThis compelling mystery will have you on the edge of your seat.â
âInside Soap
âA fabulous thriller with plenty of surprisesâ
âStar
âEssential reading for Jodi Picoult fansâ
âDaily Mail
âChamberlain skillfully ⦠plumbs the nature of crimes of the heart.â
âPublishers Weekly
âSo full of unexpected twists youâll find yourself wanting to finish it in one sitting. Fans of Jodi Picoultâs style will love how Diane Chamberlain writes.â
âCandis
âThe plot is intriguing and haunting revelations will have you glued to the very end.â
âPeterborough Evening Telegraph
âI was drawn in from the first page and simply could not put it down until the last. I think I have found a new favourite author.â
âDaily Echo
â[A] gripping summer read thatâs full of twists and turns
â5 starsâ âWomanâs Own
âThe compelling story of three friends who are forced to question what it is to be a friend, mother and a sister.â
âSunday World
âA gripping novelâ
âThe Lady (online)
âDiane Chamberlain is a marvellously gifted author. Every book she writes is a gem.â
âLiterary Times
âA strong tale that deserves a comparison with Jodi Picoult for, as this builds, one does indeed wonder if all will come right in the end.â
âlovereading.co.uk
âI couldnât put it down.â
âBookseller
Also by Diane Chamberlain
Kiss River
Keeper of the Light
The Lost Daughter
The Bay at Midnight
Before the Storm
Secrets She Left Behind
The Lies We Told
Breaking the Silence
The Midwifeâs Confession
Brass Ring
The Shadow Wife
The Good Father
In memory of Nan Chamberlain Lopresti
So many people helped me with my research as I wrote Her Motherâs Shadow. For their various contributions, I would like to thank Rodney Cash, Kimberly Certa, Steve Cook, Paul Holland and my friends at ASA, who are always ready with an answer to my questions, no matter how esoteric those questions may be.
I am grateful to fellow authors Emilie Richards and Patricia McLinn for their brainstorming skills. The inspiration to make Bobby Asher a scrimshaw artist came from my favourite scrimshander, Cathy Guss, whose stunning craftsmanship I discovered a number of years ago.
Special thanks goes once again to Sharon Van Epps, for sharing with me her experiences as she attempts to adopt a child from India. As I write this, Sharon is still engaged in that struggle and itâs my fervent hope that her story has a happy ending.
Betsy Reitz earns a mention in these acknowledgements for winning the essay contest on my website. Betsyâs love of the Keeper of the Light trilogy was evident in her essay. Itâs readers like Betsy who make writing worthwhile.
As always, Iâd like to thank my agent, Ginger Barber, and my editor, Amy Moore-Benson. I am so lucky to be able to work with both of them.
I would love to hear your thoughts about Her Motherâs Shadow. Please visit my website at www.dianechamberlain.com.
HER MOTHERâS SHADOW
The girl in the kitchen
has her motherâs eyes the color of new jeans and old sapphires.
She has her motherâs hair,
scarlet and sienna. Her motherâs lips and bird feather hands.
But â¦
When she turns her head
just so, The indigo eyes are flecked with amber.
The hair,
streaked with gold. She is not her mother at all.
âPaul Macelli
Christmas 1990
THERE WAS CHEER IN THE HOUSE IN THE HEART of Manteo. From the outside, the large two-story frame building that served as the battered womenâs shelter was nondescript. There were no Christmas lights hanging from the eaves, not even a wreath on the door, as if the people who ran the house were afraid to draw attention to it, and Lacey supposed they were. Cruel men had put the women and children here, the sort of men she had no experience with and found hard to imagine. But she could see the fear in the womenâs faces and knew those men existed. More than that, she did not really want to know.
Although there was no sign of the season outside the house, inside was another story. Fresh garlands decorated the railing that led up to the bedrooms, and branches of holly were piled on top of the huge old mantel. The scent of pine was so strong it had seared Laceyâs nostrils when she first walked inside. A huge tree stood in the corner of the living room, decorated with white lights and colored glass balls and topped by one of her motherâs stained glass angels. The tree was alive, and Lacey did not need to ask if that was her motherâs doing. Of course it was. Annie OâNeill always insisted on live trees. They had one at home, and Lacey knew both trees would be taken inland, away from the sandy soil of the Outer Banks, to be planted once the Christmas season was over.