Ray and Mary Townes who were recently married have that typical Canadian life – he being a police officer and Mary a nurse that anyone would want to have and see from the outside as one that is destined to succeed. Ray is not only young but being hailed as a hero on that fateful night that the hurricane hit, he has a lot to live up to. Mary, a young nurse working at St. Joseph’s has that persona of a Florence Nightingale working the night shift in her own way.
50 years later, Ray is on his deathbed from emphysema just by chance reading the paper one morning Ray has made the papers once again; with the same picture that had haunted him then as it does now. Mary is still irked to this day about their life so long ago, just waiting patiently until Ray breathes his last breath; what she thought they once had as you will see is a total fabrication, or at least it is in her eyes and she will have nothing of it. She also knows more than she is letting onto; Ray, who is telling the whole story throughout this work of fiction that had me engrossed to the point of stalking the characters in a way that you are allowed to when reading a book.
The story itself jumps from present-day to those fateful days when Hurricane Hazel hit, with all of the force it intended. Ray seems to think that coming clean after all of these years will absolve him of the things that he hadn’t had the guts to reveal to his loving wife Mary. He fully intended to, but when things got right down to it, he chickened out.
Mary finding the notebook in-between his bed wasn’t exactly the cleverest place to hide his journal for anyone not to find it, but when Mary goes back, she can’t find it with all of the secrets her husband kept from her.
Like I had stated earlier, I was literally stalking this novel – it didn’t matter if I was reading it, or it was sitting on my table eyeing me from where it sat, the story along with all of the characters were on my mind like a woman possessed wanting to know if Ray and Mary would reconcile before Ray took his last breath, or would the animosity of all the heartbreak and sadness of things already done would still fester like a wound would that hasn’t been tended to.
I wasn’t disappointed in the least.