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Chapter One
Boston
“Ms. Grey?” The boy’s voice barely cut through the static in her head. Everything felt distant, like she’d been underwater too long. Kateri didn’t budge. Her pulse thudded in her neck. Her arms too heavy to move. “Ms. Grey?”
A light tap landed on her shoulder, and her whole body flinched. She dragged in a breath as the room snapped back into focus. At the front of the studio, she stood, where tall windows looked out onto Boston’s streets. A few chairs sat scattered near the wall, and through the glass, she glimpsed a blur of movement, someone rushing toward their car, pulling their rain jacket tighter, as the wind began to gust.
“Can you hear me, Ms. Grey?” the boy tried again. When she turned, she saw it was Charlie, one of her best students. She gasped, like her body had been yanked out of something she wasn’t finished reliving. And for a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d actually left it.
Charlie stood beside her, his usual grin replaced by caution. He took a small step back, eyebrows pinched. “Are you okay?”
Her vision cleared as she forced her body to still. “Yes. I’m fine.” But her voice didn’t sound like her own. And she could see the worry lingering across the boy’s face.
She straightened up, managing a smile. “Sorry about that. I was just … thinking about something I need to take care of this weekend.”
Charlie didn’t look convinced. And honestly, she didn’t blame him. He’d been around long enough to notice when something was off. One of her original Stage Shift students, Charlie had been with her since the very beginning when she first opened the doors to this little studio and dared to believe her story might help someone else heal. He knew what this space meant to her, what this work had done for her. And now, with his own dream of becoming a drama therapist someday, he worked part-time helping set up and clean up after school.
“I promise, I’m okay,” she added. “Did you need something?”
“I was just letting you know we finished putting props away, but I have to go. Big science test tomorrow, and I need to study. I’m not prepared at all.”
Kateri pulled her phone out of her back pocket, glancing at the time. “Wow, it’s already six. Okay, yes, go on home. I hope you do well on your test. At least tomorrow’s Friday, and you’ve got the weekend to look forward to after that. And drive safe! There’s supposed to be a storm rolling through this evening.”
As if summoned, a low rumble of thunder vibrated somewhere far off.
Charlie shook his head, already pulling keys from his sweatshirt pocket. “I’m only a few blocks up. I’m good.”
“Still,” she said, her voice softening. “Be careful.”
“Always,” he called, tugging his hood over his head as he slipped out the front door. A brush of air tinged with the chill of the approaching fall season trailed in before the door clicked shut.
Kateri pushed her hair behind one ear, the rich blonde layers falling just past her shoulders. She drifted closer to the front window and watched the city blur behind the now rain-slicked glass. Outside, the streetlights blinked on. Her reflection stared back at her in the glass, slightly distorted in the flickering light. She hadn’t meant to worry Charlie with how distant she’d just been. But lately, she couldn’t help it.
It was late August, only days since the twentieth anniversary of that terrible day in Herring Point when Kateri and her father were in a car accident that killed him. She had barely survived, leaving her with post-traumatic stress disorder at age thirteen that bound her in silence whenever the anniversary drew near. Even now, she could not bring herself to face the day, letting it slip quietly past. The crash had only been the beginning, and everything that followed was what Kateri had spent two decades trying to bury. And for a long time, it worked well enough to build a life, a purpose, even a career out of the pain she refused to name.
When she returned to school the fall after the accident, everything had changed. The grip of trauma still clung to her, but drama class became the only place she could breathe again. The stage didn’t just distract, it gave back her voice, grounding her in a way nothing else could. It was her first step toward healing. Eventually, that step turned into a path that led her here, where she created Stage Shift.
Now, as Kateri stood in her hard-earned studio, the very place where her company had taken root and flourished, she watched the storm gathering strength outside, and she suddenly felt like a fraud. Stage Shift was everything she had worked for. She and her college roommate, Gina Brooks, had built it from the ground up, with support from several classmates and a family friend.
With a degree in drama therapy and a partner she trusted, Kateri had dedicated her life to helping kids and teenagers face what she never could. And yet here she was, zoning out in the corner of the studio, burying the memories she didn’t want to feel.
As the years passed, the pain somewhat eased, while her ability to remember that day and most of the weeks leading up to it remained trapped in the unrelenting grip of PTSD, where she had convinced herself they belonged. Until now.
With the last student gone, she closed her eyes and let the silence settle in, bringing the past with it.
“Kateri, I know this must feel overwhelming,” her doctor said gently. “But I want to explain what’s happening. After an accident like the one you’ve been through, it’s not uncommon for the mind to go into protective mode. That’s shock. It shuts things out.”
“But how?” her mother asked, her voice cracking. “She can’t remember much of anything from this summer.”
Kateri held her mother’s hand and watched as a tear slipped down her cheek. Once again, she felt the sharp sting of guilt for not listening to her that day. Her mother had begged her not to get in the car with her dad, who’d been visibly upset about something.
The doctor offered a small, tired smile. “It’s a defense mechanism. The brain blocks distressing details until you’re ready to process them. Some memories may return, others may not.”
“So … I’m not making it up?” Kateri whispered.
“No. This isn’t something you’re doing on purpose. Like I said, it’s how your mind is protecting you. The most important thing now is to take it one step at a time. Don’t force anything. The memories that matter may return when you’re ready.”
A flash of lightning snapped her eyes open again. For years, she’d ignored that doctor and repressed the little she would eventually recall, pushing it into the shadows of her mind. Especially once she found ways to disappear into other characters on stage. But lately, the wall of defense she’d relied on for so long had begun to give way.
She drew her arms in tight, her thoughts worn thin from circling the same place. The grief she thought she had outrun returned as the anniversary approached. And this time, it came in swinging. Still, she might’ve kept avoiding it if not for the invitation.
Just a few weeks ago, she and Gina had been discussing their upcoming fall schedule, preparing to launch Stage Shift’s usual advertising with local high schools the way they always did, until a call came in that left her speechless. It was from a place called Camp Anchor … in Herring Point, Maine. Exactly where she’d lost her dad.
It was the first time she’d been contacted outside the Boston area for their program, and of all places, it had to be there. She hadn’t told Gina yet; she’d been too stunned, needing time to regroup before the emotions swallowed her whole. What shook her more than the fact that it was Herring Point was that someone had made a donation to the camp, requesting her by name for their brand-new after-school program launching that fall. Did they realize who she was? Who her father was?
Scattered dreams began immediately following the call. Parts of that summer in Herring Point had fused into relentless nightmares for almost a month now. What was worse, none of the dreams made any sense. Each one blurred and fragmented, always the same pieces of that final day with her dad. And they always ended the same way: waking in a cold sweat, every muscle locked in panic.
As soon as she’d open her eyes, everything would go blank, leaving her with nothing but her father’s voice echoing in the hidden recesses of her memory that she fought to keep sealed.
What was happening to her? And more importantly, why now?
The accident had been ruled just that, a tragic one. And maybe it was. But deep down, there had always been an ache she couldn’t escape. A silence her mother refused to break. There were questions she never got to ask, and answers her mom never seemed willing to give.
And that was why, when Camp Anchor called, something in her hadn’t been able to say no. She wasn’t ready to fully let go of what had happened, not until she understood it. All she knew was her father had been trying to prove that his latest research wasn’t just another one of the obsessions that always pulled him away from his family.
He’d uprooted the family that fateful summer, dragging them to Herring Point over some Navy sailor’s logbook donated to the museum he worked for and a seashell gift the sailor had supposedly left behind. It had sounded ridiculous to her at the time, but once they arrived, it became clear her dad believed it would be the discovery of his career. He talked about awards, legacy, and putting Herring Point on the map. Whatever that meant.
She had wanted to believe him. Most nights back then ended with her parents’ voices rising in bitter argument. It was one of the few things she remembered clearly. The fighting. The disappointment. Her dad slipping further into his research, chasing recognition while shutting the rest of them out. Her mom couldn’t take it anymore, and Kateri had no idea how to fix it or shield her younger brother, Matthew, who’d only been nine at the time, from it.
Dad’s job at the Boston Maritime Museum had always pulled him away, but something shifted that summer. He became a stranger, unraveling in front of them. She had been desperate for it all to mean something, for those four weeks in Herring Point to have purpose. She had watched him work endlessly, convinced he was on the edge of uncovering a truth only he could see.
Whispers began to spread into every conversation around the whole harbor. Small-town gossip branded him as the unhinged historian. She and her mother had done their best to ignore it, pretending the sideways glances and hushed voices didn’t exist. But then her dad’s boss at the museum had called. He, too, had heard the rumors that Adam Grey wasn’t just researching some old artifacts. He was chasing things he had no business poking around in.
That was the breaking point. Her dad had started tearing through letters, scattered notes, and photos from their time in Herring Point, flinging them across the living room in a frenzy, his voice rising with each attempt to piece together whatever mystery he was chasing. Kateri didn’t remember every detail of his erratic behavior, but one thing stuck: his face toward the end. What she saw wasn’t frustration. It was fear. And she still didn’t understand why.
Maybe that’s why, deep down, she felt so drawn to going back. Herring Point may have moved forward from what happened to him, but she couldn’t keep living as if she had. In her heart, she already knew her answer. She would take the job at Camp Anchor because no matter what had happened that summer with her father, she needed to go back and find closure.
And, more importantly, she needed to tell Gina.
As Kateri turned to grab her things, she collided with someone. Papers fanned across the floor. Gina stood there, lifting a hand to stop Kateri as she bent to gather them.
“I got it. It’s all right,” Gina said, lowering to the floor.
“I’m sorry, G. I didn’t know you were still here.”
Gina began to slowly stack the papers, observing her, and Kateri knew that look: the counselor face. “You’ve been on edge all day. Or more like for weeks now. I know this time of year is always tough, but it’s more. What is going on with you?”
“Yeah, I know, I’m…”
What’s the use in pretending?
Gina knew her too well, and besides, Stage Shift hadn’t gained its good reputation from just the program. Her partner’s skills as a therapist were well known in the city. Which meant, she’d see right through Kateri’s façade. “No, I’m actually not. We need to talk.”
“I knew it.” Gina tidied up the papers and stood up. “How about now? Let’s go sit.” She gestured to the empty chairs against the wall.
“Okay.” Kateri’s thoughts suddenly went blank as they sat down. No, you cannot erase the fact that a camp in Herring Point called. Your mind has been made up. Just tell her. “We got contacted for our program.”
Gina waited.
“At a place called Camp Anchor. This is the first year they are extending their camp to be year-round, hosting all kinds of after-school and weekend programs. And we were contacted to run ours there this fall.”
“That sounds like a neat opportunity. Where is this camp?”
“In Herring Point, Maine.”
Gina’s silence was both shocking and unnerving. She’d never seen her friend so taken aback. “What are the chances of that?” she finally said.
“Yeah, well, it’s more than just chance. Apparently, I was asked to bring our program there with the money given by an anonymous donor.”
“Wow…” Gina shook her head. “That’s something. And … almost eerie.” She stared past Kateri for a few seconds. “They didn’t mention anything about your father, did they?”
“No, but they have to know, right? Herring Point is a small village in Bar Harbor. It may have been twenty years ago, but it was such a big thing at the time.”
“I don’t even know what to say…” Gina sat back in her chair, looking deep in thought for a moment. “When did they call?”
“A few weeks ago.” Kateri shifted toward her. “I haven’t given them a full answer yet, but I’m going to tell them yes.”
“You know what?” Gina’s lips curved up. “I’m thinking this is going to be really good for you.” Her words came out slowly, treading lightly.
“You mean that?”
“I do.” Gina reached over and patted her shoulder. “Kateri, every time those kids walk through our doors, we help them express themselves, build resilience, and learn to communicate through creative role-play. Maybe going back to Herring Point will do the same for you, give you space to face what’s been buried and finally make peace with it.” She gave her a reassuring smile. “And I’ll be right by your side, so you won’t be alone.”
“I understand, and as a professional, I know it’s true. But this is Herring Point. The place that stripped my father of everything he’d built. His life’s work was mocked, his reputation destroyed, and the accident … it left us with nothing but heartache. My mom, my brother, and I were shattered, and honestly, I don’t think my mom ever truly recovered. She watched her husband go from respected historian to laughingstock, discredited and forgotten. Besides, how do I make peace with a past I barely remember? In a place where I nearly lost myself, lost my dad completely, and lost his legacy?”
Gina met her gaze, her eyes filled with both compassion and firm determination. “Then maybe it’s time to get it back.”
The rain had briefly eased by the time Kateri reached her car, but her mind hadn’t. Gina’s words followed her as she drove through the slick Boston streets: Then get it back. She gripped the wheel at another flash of lightning, followed by more pounding rain.
Her father’s face suddenly came back to her, his eyes shadowed by things she still didn’t understand. The past wasn’t coming in fragments anymore; it was roaring through her like the storm outside.
Herring Point wasn’t just calling for Stage Shift. It was calling her. And it was time to stop hiding.
End of Excerpt
