Book 12: What the Future Holds

Misty

Ten years later...

Sunlight fans through the kitchen windows, highlighting the frost coating the glass. I blink, shielding my eyes as the sun drops below the tree line and the light in the room shifts, fading to a deep gold that paints the kitchen table and the mess my children left behind in their haste to get to school this morning.

It’s a quiet late afternoon. It’s my favorite time of day, actually. The house is still and silent–the calm before the storm… which is running up the driveway right now, pushing and shoving toward the front door.

The door swings open, the chilly late afternoon air carrying two small voices through the foyer and hallway.

“Mom! MOM!” Addy’s voice echoes over the sound of heavy winter fabric dropping to the ground, probably in a wet heap. “MOM!”

“I’m in the kitchen!” I call out, smiling to myself as I stick my coffee mug in the microwave. Two sets of footsteps thunder in my direction, and then I’m