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.
Genre: YA inspirational / Christian YA
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?
ExcerptI crush the paper scrap with the hospital’s number in a trembling fist. For all I know, Poppa will be dead in minutes if they don’t operate. But without Mum’s approval, they legally can’t.
I cannot believe Mum left Theo and me alone in the apartment. She usually checks on us every ten minutes like clockwork, bugging us with questions or roping Theo into chores like opening jars or pulling things off high shelves. It’s like she has this bizarre fear that we’re going to rip each other’s clothes off at any moment and make me the next teen pregnancy statistic.
Well, she can’t have gone far — probably just to the little market on Columbus to pick up dinner ingredients. Surely she’ll be back any minute. I should call the front desk and ask the doorman if he saw her go out. Theo could hold down the fort while I look for her.
Gosh, I can just picture her standing in line at Rico’s, looking for all the world like a bohemian free spirit in her snug t-shirt, paint-spattered jeans, strappy sandals, gobs of gypsy jewelry, hair in long, loose layers. She’ll glance up from her basket of Thai basil and coconut milk, see my face and just know. Know that I’m about to hurl a bomb at her. Know that trouble’s found her yet again, like it always does.
How can I tell her? How? It’s only been a year and a half since Dad’s car crash and the month of ICU agony before he was snatched from us. How can she possibly cope with Poppa right now? He’s as fatherly to her as a lion is to a gazelle. I just wish I could make this all go away.
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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