Lost Sheep

In case you are utterly out of the loop, this is the official Karissa sequel. If you haven't read the first book (why are you here? Go away and come back) you might want to do that, but I realize that this one could also stand on its own. However, it's really more fun if you've read Karissa.

This book is mainly dedicated to three people:

* Lindsey4712 - who has been writing Christian fiction a lot longer than I have. I guess I can say she kind of kindly bothered me into writing this book. (I also promised her a wedding one-shot, which I realize never came. Mea culpa.) Karissa was a book I wrote mostly for myself, but it's wonderful that I got to share it with all of you. Anyhow, she knows how much I love her, and I'm hoping she will love this book.

* SpArrowtree - My brother in Christ. Basically, I re-wrote the entire ending chapter of Karissa to please this guy. I love our talks. Hopefully, this book will please you. (It better.)

* AlexisNicole822 - Have we not gotten super-close in the last whatever? Well, considering that you just finished Karissa, this is really perfect timing, isn't it? Thank you for the lovely cover. You are just awesome, obviously, and I just think you're spectacular. I can't wait to see what you think of the first chapter of this book.

"Well, it's true that we love one another. I love Max McCutcheon like an older brother." She sang, and I replied back with,

"Well, 'Dite, I love you, too...but there's just so much that I don't know about you."

"The little love goddess listens to the White Stripes? Do tell," Landon sneered, and I almost hated him. I was tempted to say, "And so does your dad." However, suggesting that Landon had picked up anything at all from his father was trouble. 'Dite and I exchanged a look; we would never tell him what we had overheard, that his parents were worried he'd inherited his father's depression. He'd always been moody ("temperamental", Summer said, sensitive when they started criticizing her eldest, and only, child) and sullen, and teenage angst was common, almost expected, but now, at seventeen, his emotional state was downright black. Maybe he was just annoyed at having her here. Landon thought the girls were kind of annoying. 'Dite wasn't so much smaller, though - only a year younger than I was. It scared me sometimes. If Landon thought she was little and silly and dumb, what was he thinking of me in his dark moods?

"Where's Bree?" he asked irritably.

"Bree's sick, Landon," 'Dite said, fussing with her chocolate hair. She wished her friend was there...though, how much help would Bree have been? Both of the girls were kind of cowed by Landon's handsomeness and severe emotional intensity. They would watch him from a distance, giggling and poking each other, but never scramble up enough guts to actually approach him...and they always hid behind that stupid nickname - Bruce Wayne, for Landon's shining black hair and wide, muscular shoulders that started off the rest of the naturally built, athletic physique his parents puzzled over. I wasn't into Batman (actually, none of us were - even though Lavender had been in the Mad Love movie, back when she was limber and hot...or basically just the same as now, except she had kids - and four of them), but we still understood it.

Then Bree's parents came sweeping through the door - Rosemary, with her hair pinned back like she wore it nowadays, Dominic's hand affixed to her own (he said it was because they'd taken a brief break back in the college days, and he couldn't hold her hand then, so he was making up for lost time). He still looked about twenty-five, with that tousled hair and relaxed swagger - the reason girls my age were flipping over him, despite the fact that their mothers were still flipping over him.

"Are we late? There was this big breakthrough at work, and I had to be at this meeting...." Rosemary explained.

"No, they're still having cocktails in the lounge." 'Dite, reclining on the couch, directed them the right way (a needless gesture, really) with a pale and gorgeous hand. (No, there was nothing between us. Ever. No pining or unrequited love. Everyone knew Aphrodite Venus Beaumont would end up marrying some prince of a far-off province, or possibly Monaco and become this generation's brunette Grace Kelly.)