In memory there is a dividing line on my life, a bright one, cutting across a bright and clear September day in the little Mountain Town of Manitou Springs. I was a young mother, with two children in elementary school. Walking the boys to class – let that be a lesson to you – on that exceptionally fine day, I remember thinking we were finally where we wanted to be: we had a house we loved, the kids were happy in school, we had a writers’ group, and my first novel was coming out in a month. I remember thinking...