PROLOGUE
WW III, Amanda PROLOGUE “Mom, how did you meet Dad?” Israel’s voice carried that mix of curiosity and seriousness Amanda had come to expect from him and with the patience only a mother of six could have. At nine years old, he sat with his legs crossed neatly at the foot of the bed, his silver eyes fixed on her — always watching, always thinking. His curiosity always made her wonder where he got that from. Probably his dad because she didn't recall ever being like that when she was little. As she sat with Helena sleeping soundly in her arms, the soft breathing was a steady reminder of the quiet moment they were having after dinner. The rest of the children were scattered across the bed, their legs tangled, blankets twisted all around them. Katherine, the oldest, sat upright against the headboard, while Valeria leaned half of her legs on her older sister. Aisha was tucked up close to Amanda, and Abrah...