Imagine with me a city. You’re almost there. It’s a city you’ve always wanted to go to. The [enter your favorite mode of transportation] is creeping ever closer. Then it stops. Almost there, but not quite. Laurel Garver is with us today to talk about her book, Almost There. Let’s see how many times we can use the title in different contexts.
About the Book
Paris, the City of Lights. To seventeen-year-old Dani Deane, it’s the Promised Land. There, her widowed mother’s depression will vanish and she will no longer fear losing her only parent, her arty New York life, or her devoted boyfriend.
But shortly before their Paris getaway, Dani’s tyrannical grandfather falls ill, pulling them to rural Pennsylvania to deal with his hoarder horror of a house. Among the piles, Dani finds disturbing truths that could make Mum completely unravel. Desperate to protect her from pain and escape to Paris, Dani hatches a plan with the flirtatious neighbor boy that only threatens the relationships she most wants to save.
Why would God block all paths to Paris? Could real hope for healing be as close as a box tucked in the rafters?
About the Author
Laurel Garver is a writer, editor, professor’s wife, and mom to an arty teenager. An indie
Brambles scratch my bare arms. Dandelions spill silken seeds that flutter into my face and tickle my nose. Burrs hitch a ride on my shorts and socks as I kick deeper through the undergrowth.
“Rhys! Ree-eess!” I call.
I swat away gnats buzzing around my head. I’d rather roam the Met when it’s wall-to-wall sweaty tourists than be out in all this creepy nature.
What was that? The rapid tapping repeats. It can’t be a rattlesnake, can it?
“Woof!” Rhys’s distant bark rings through the trees. I turn in circles trying to guess his direction. If there are poisonous snakes in these woods, we’re both dead.
A flash of red catches my eye as a mid-sized bird swoops past. It lands on a dead tree and cocks its head. I stare at its skunk-striped face, funny red hat of a crest and instinctively pat my pockets for a sketch pad and pencil. The bird turns and pecks the tree: Tat-dat-dat-dat-dat.
That’s what I’ve been scared of? A harmless woodpecker?
More distant barks pull my attention to the deep woods. I tighten my grip on the bat, and follow. Past the brambles, the woods are soft and cool. Ferns and moss make a pungent carpet across the forest floor. Light shivers among the breeze-bent branches. I close my eyes, suck in lungfuls of woodsy air, strange as it tastes to my city-girl tongue. Breaths come like prayer.
Behind me, branches swish. A guy on a black horse circles me, the rifle in his right hand pointed at the sky. One false move, though, and he just might turn its sights on me.
You’re almost there! Just a few clicks here and a few clicks there and you’ll arrive! Arrive where? Why, you’ll arrive at the rafflecopter page to enter the creative giveaway.
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