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Young widow AJ Sinclair has persevered through much heartache. Has she met her match when the Yellowstone supervolcano erupts, leaving her separated from her youngest son and her brother? Tens of thousands are dead or missing in a swath of massive destruction. She and her nine-year-old autistic son, Will, embark on a risky road trip from Maine to the epicenter to find her family. She can't lose another loved one.
Read an excerpt...
A gray column of ash exploded on the screen. The plume darkened the sky.
“Mom, come look!” Will said, without turning from the TV.
She fidgeted with the mail on the kitchen counter. Then said a bad word. The metal trash lid clanged open, and she grumbled. He tapped a finger on his thigh as he listened to the newscaster.
A few minutes passed. “Mom…”
“One minute,” she called. He turned. She dragged the basket of dirty laundry from their vacation to Yellowstone down the basement steps. Thump, thump, thump.
“But it’s the volcano! On TV!” His pulse flickered. This was important. She needed to see.
“Hang on a sec, Will.”
The clock read 9:03 p.m. Eastern Time, but it still felt like Mountain Time and he wasn’t sleepy. He counted to one second. He knew she didn’t mean that. Her “a sec” or “a minute” could be way longer.
She returned from the basement and opened the window over the kitchen sink. The metallic, vibrating hum of the foghorn sounded in the distance. He rose and added a tally mark to the chart on his clipboard. Soon, he’d need to make his snow charts, too. But it was only August.
“Where are they?” Mom said.
She came through the doorway to the living room with her mug in one hand. It smelled like burnt stinky milk. He covered his nose.
“Mom, watch out!” She almost stepped on his eight red volcano cut-outs lined in a row in front of the TV. His heart kerthumped. He straightened one, so the bottom edge realigned with the rest. There, better.
“So, honey, what is it? Find an interesting documentary to watch?” she finally asked, drawing her gaze to the TV as she stumbled. “Will, the tape and scissors. I need you to pick them up, okay?” She yawned. “We need to go to bed soon.” She leaned over the coffee table and clicked her laptop shut with another curse. “I can’t even track their flight. Where are they?” she repeated to herself.
Her brown eyes were shiny, holding that sad look she got when she thought about Dad. Some expressions confused him, but Mom was easier to understand than others. She was sad a lot these days. Was she sad about his little brother Finn not returning home yet? He approached her and hugged her around the waist. He nudged the top of his head against her ribcage. “It’s okay, Mom. Finn and Uncle Brandon will be here. Maybe their flights were delayed again?”
She exhaled. Coffee breath. His stomach squeezed. Delays. Yuck, he didn’t like delays either.
She said in a whisper, a raspy grating sound, “They should’ve landed by now…the traffic north to Maine from Boston isn’t awful this time of day. Finn’s going to be so wired.”
But he’s not a robot, Will wanted to say, but he knew it was just one of Mom’s weird phrases. The commercials ended. He grabbed her hand. “Look, Mom. Yellowstone! Maybe Finn and Uncle Brandon saw it erupt since we were all just there! How lucky of them to see that, huh?” He pointed to the LIVE symbol in the bottom right corner.
Her mug slipped and fell in a crash, spilling all over his volcanoes.
Read an interview with Jean M. Grant HERE
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Jean’s background is in science and she draws from her interests in history, nature, and her family for inspiration. She writes historical and contemporary romances and women’s fiction. She also writes articles for family-oriented travel magazines. When she’s not writing or chasing children, she enjoys tending to her flower gardens, hiking, and doing just about anything in the outdoors.
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Jean-M.-Grant/e/B0728KFXP9/a Rafflecopter giveaway