“Congratulations, your book is . . .”

The remainder of the email blurred, its words smearing together. The publisher was congratulating me, or rather trying to congratulate me, on the release of my latest novel, Ida’s Secrets, a 442-page historical tome about my mother’s life, her tragedies and triumphs.

But a gut punch doubled me over in my chair. I exhaled hard and refocused on the letters crawling across the screen. I attempted to shake away the feeling in my stomach. It persisted. Within seconds, a sensation of energy rose through my chest and finally settled at the base of my throat.

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