I have enjoyed this series so much and appreciate all the encouragement and support I’ve had from readers, family, and friends in making it possible. I’m beyond grateful for my coauthors on this project: Annette Lyon (Paige, Covenant 2012; Ilana, Covenant 2014), Heather Moore (Athena, Covenant 2012; Ruby, Covenant 2014), and Julie Wright (Olivia, Covenant 2012; Victoria, Covenant 2013.) They are such important women in my life and have each made me better and stronger. Thank you, gals, for . . . everything. Big thanks to Deseret Book for supporting this project, which eventually led to them asking Covenant Communications to take over publication in order to retain continuity in the series. Because of that, I got to work with even more fabulous people. Specifically Jana Erickson, Deseret Book product manager; Lisa Mangum, Deseret Book editor (After Hello, Shadow Mountain 2012); Samantha Millburn, Covenant editing and typesetting; and Christina Marcano, Covenant cover design. I am grateful to be able to work with such talented people and appreciate each of you so much.
Thank you to Gregg Luke (Deadly Undertakings, Covenant 2012) for helping me with some of the pharmacist-specific elements of this book. With his own books to write, profession to work, a family to raise, and life to live, I am very grateful for the time he took to guide my words.
In my years of writing there are a few books I’ve written that have explored things that are a part of my personal experience. “Shannon” was one of those books for me. I am not Shannon, and I don’t have a specific Keisha in my life, but I have been a participant in the “dance” of addiction and codependency and boundaries and letting go and forgiving (or trying to). The closeness of those issues made it a hard book to write, and at one point I determined I needed to abandon this story line and start something else; I felt that I was exposing too much raw flesh in the story and that I might hurt people I love. I explained it to my husband—who intimately knows the real-life people and circumstances that made this story difficult—and he encouraged me to stay with it. He felt that the value for me and other people involved in a similar “dance” was worth the discomfort. And so I wrote it. And I learned. And I’m still nervous. But the words are here, and I hope they are of value to others.
I believe in a God of healing and hope, and I believe our journeys do not end when we leave mortality and that some battles may continue indefinitely. There is a fine line between hope and hopelessness sometimes; between love and self-preservation; between kindness and enabling. I have much to learn in regard to these things but I am trying. If you are a dancer, on any side of the issue, of which there are many sides, I wish you peace and perspective as you figure out your own steps.