AFTER THE RAIN
By Shannon Eckrich
Copyright 2011 Shannon Eckrich
Smashwords Edition
AFTER THE RAIN is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and establishments are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and events are entirely coincidental.
To Poppop: I love you and miss you. I'll see you when I get home.
I owe a huge amount of gratitude to so many people who have helped me along my long and winding road to writing. A big shout out goes to: Deanna Fitzpatrick, a wonderful medium and psychic who read my mind and suggested I begin writing my own books during a Reiki session; my mother, who is, and will always be, my toughest critic (in a good way, of course); Suzanna Morton, who is a wonderful niece, and my biggest fan; and Misty Johnson, one of my oldest friends, who was the first to purchase After the Rain on Nook.
I would also like to thank all my online friends and beta readers: Joyce Nichols, Michelle Vee, Margo Kelly, Melissa Dean, Bobbie Bandy, Ellen Meister, Elana Johnson, Nancy Canu, Wendy Schirmer, and Dawne Prochilo. If I accidently missed anyone, you know who you are.
And, last but not least, I would like to thank my husband and my kids for their support. Love you guys!
AFTER THE RAIN
I stand in the middle of the lawn, rain falling from my eyes, watching the fire dance inside the house. Pointy, hot flames reach out to me like fingers from his window. I want to wrap my hands around them, even if my flesh and meat melt from my bones, and let them pull me in, but too many people are holding me back.
Less than an hour ago, I was talking to Adam in the kitchen.
****
"We don't have any Fruity Pebbles. All we have is Raisin Bran."
"I don't want Raisin Bran. It's yucky." Adam stood next to me, arms crossed over his chest, not willing to give in as my eyes scoured the cabinet.
"C'mon, Adam, it's eight o'clock at night. It's almost bedtime." I peered down at his wide blue eyes, wishing he would cooperate.
Amy, my sister, opens up the fridge beside me and leans in. "We need milk and eggs, too." She shot me a sideways glance and smiled. "You know, since you're more than likely going to the store tonight."
She knew I couldn't say no to Adam. Just like I could never say no to his father. Adam was only a year old when Bryson and a couple of his buddies left for that skiing trip to the Poconos. If I would have known their van was going to skid off the road into a tree, killing all three passengers, I would've told him no. Thank God, Adam was too young to realize what had happened. And if he hadn't been there the night I received the phone call, I have no idea how I would've survived.
"Fine." I closed the cabinet and scooped my keys up off the table. "I'll be back in a few." I leaned down to kiss Adam on the cheek.
"Love you, Mommy, forever."