[{"_1":2,"_46":-5,"_47":-5},"loaderData",{"_3":4,"_14":15,"_44":-5,"_45":-5},"root",{"_5":-5,"_6":-5,"_7":-5,"_8":9,"_10":11},"user","shoppingCartId","toast","locale","en","constants",{"_12":13},"paypalClientId","AenrHU49peF-ZUH-Yq7AXLLNZYGUGlml474U16NCjB4ZznmQCEjiliN3whyuVZmkb7VxEzmTALgtKEKE","routes/_store+/_readers+/email_author.$slug/route",{"_16":17,"_43":-5},"book",{"_18":19,"_20":21,"_22":23,"_24":25,"_26":27,"_28":29},"id","Z2lkOi8vbGVhbnB1Yi9TdG9yZTo6Qm9va1Byb2R1Y3QvNjg0MjY","title","A million miles away","state","published","contactAuthorMethod","email","aboutText","

I thought it would be just another lonely walk home. Mom was late again, the air was freezing, and I cut through the woods because I couldn’t stand waiting anymore.

I wasn’t looking for anything—

but I found a bottle buried in the sand, with a map inside that felt… wrong. Like it knew something I didn’t.

That same night, Mom told me Grandma Mia was gone.

Just like that.

The only person who ever made me feel understood.

I should’ve stayed home the next morning. I should’ve rested, or cried, or done anything but follow that strange map back into the woods.

But grief makes you reach for things you normally wouldn’t.

And when Mia’s necklace—the one she said was “the key to her heart”—opened a hidden hatch under the creek, I realized I hadn’t found the map by accident.

Something down there was waiting for me.

Something she left behind.

","authors",[30],{"_18":31,"_32":33,"_5":34},"Z2lkOi8vbGVhbnB1Yi9TdG9yZTo6UHJvZHVjdEF1dGhvci83Mjc4Mg","name","Bear",{"_35":36},"avatar",{"_37":38,"_39":40,"_41":42},"url","https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/d0d7766b03709fc25798395485eae439?r=pg&d=mm","styleName","medium","exists",true,"currentUser","routes/_store+/_layout","routes/_store+/_readers+/_layout","actionData","errors"]

Email the Author