Excerpt from Winterkill by Karen Wunderman, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

From the kitchen, Nicky's mother heard the dogs bark and walked out onto the porch.

"Oh, I thought Nicky was home from the way the dogs were barking," Kate said, absent-mindedly drying a glass with her apron. She looked at Ben, not certain he'd heard her. "I said I thought Nicky was home."

"I heard you," Ben said.

"She's not?"

"I guess not."

Kate held the dried glass up to the sky, checking for spots. Satisfied, she set it down on a small wicker table and walked over behind her husband. "You okay?"

Ben felt her light touch on his shoulders over the back of the porch rocker. It startled him and he jumped up, slapping at the hot coffee that spilled on his leg.

"Jesus, Kate. You sure have a way of moving from here to there so no one can hear you. Could you give me a little warning next time, especially when I've got a cup of hot coffee in my hand?"

"What would you like me to do, Ben, narrate every single move I make in my life?"

He shook his head, still wiping at the coffee stain on his pants. "I just didn't hear you come over, okay?"

"Well, it seems to me my shoes made a good amount of noise when I walked over here."

Ben sat down again in the chair, careful not to spill more coffee. Kate watched him for a few minutes, noticing how his eyes remained fixed, even when he lifted the mug to his lips. There was something unnatural about it, unsettling.

"What's bothering you, Ben? You sure you're okay?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay. Just don't keep asking."

She put her arms around his neck, resting her hands on his chest, her mouth close to his ear. Gently he removed her arms from around him.

"Uh oh, we're back to this again?"

"Kate, don't start, please? I was just sitting out here admiring the view and preparing my butt for a long relationship with this rocker I picked up today and thinking how I still make a rotten cup of coffee. Trust me. I'm okay. Honest."

"Do you think Nicky's okay?"

"Why are you worrying so much about everyone?"

"I'm not worrying about everyone. Just you two. You know, she's getting more and more like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you know, sort of . . . distant."

"Kate, I've told you a hundred times. I'm not distant, just a little preoccupied."

"And Nicky?"

"Well, I guess she's preoccupied too, you know, what with the end of fourth grade and all. Don't worry so much."

"I can't help it, Ben, I'm her mother."

"And I'm her father, and I say don't worry. I'm okay and she's okay."

Kate walked to the edge of the porch and stretched her body out over the railing. Her soft hair fluttered in the breeze.

"And me?" she asked.

"And you what?"

"Do you think I'm okay?"

He was stumped, but at the same time stabbed by a flash of emotion, a connection with something deep inside he rarely felt anymore. As more of a reflex than a conscious thought, he joined her by the railing and put his arms around her from the back, leaning against her and pressing with his hips. "Aren't you okay, Kate?"

A sound escaped from her throat-a sigh, a moan-he wasn't sure which. "Sure I'm okay, Ben. Sure."

They stood like that for a few minutes, minds wandering in different directions, neither connected to the other. Kate felt safe this way at least, as if maybe things would go back to normal, to the way they had been.

"Do you want to eat dinner?" she asked.

"I'm hungry, but Nicky's not home yet."

"I am so home," Nicky said, rounding the corner of the house.

"Where on earth have you been?" Kate demanded. "And why are you so wet?"

From Winterkill by Karen Wunderman. Copyright 2002 Karen Wunderman, all rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author.