Her Outback Husband

MARGARET WAY

Dear Reader,

I have always had a special love for Christmas, walking hand in hand with my father beneath a starstruck sky to Midnight Mass, wearing the prettiest dress in the world, a present from my darling Irish grandmother, Margaret Fleming. Born on her birthday, August 7, and named after her, I always called her “Mags.” It was Mags who passed on to me her love of language and her gift of the gab.

These days Christmas has become a time of remembrance. Remembrance of the loved ones I’ve lost, the empty seats at the table. “Remembrance like a candle burns brightest at Christmas.” Dickens, I think. Hearts can and do soften in an irrepressible outpouring of good will, setting the scene for reconciliation as in my Christmas novella, where hero and heroine once again get caught up in the season’s celebration of love.

The very best to you and your family,

Margaret Way