“His chest was sore, his arm in a sling to keep his collarbone from moving, but he was cheerful. Almost too cheerful: “Mom,” he enthused from in front of the TV. “Mr. Ash is cool. He knows about dynamite!” Right. I already knew that. “Great,” I replied, but my lack of enthusiasm had little to do with Mr. Ash. Now that Sam was home, I would have to start trying not to think about the seminar he had lined up for that weekend, the one on the theory and practice of safe, effective underwater demolit...ion. “Because sometimes you need to get rid of something in the water,” he’d explained. “A wreck, a ruined wharf. So . . . bang!” Wonderful. I’d never told him much past the bare facts about my own personal history in the bang! department. I hadn’t wanted him to develop phobias. And now look what I’d done: “Mr. Ash says if you know how to do it, you can blow one bad brick out of a chimney and replace it without having to take the whole chimney down,” Sam reported. “Terrific,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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