Before the Dawn by Kate Hewitt Read Free Book Online Page A

it.  His postcards never left an address or a phone number.  There was never any way to get in touch. I wondered if a time would come when the postcards stopped altogether, when we never saw him again, or even had a hope of seeing him again.  I could see the same secret fear in my mother's eyes, like a silent cry.
    Yet I couldn't help but wonder if it would be easier that way, if letting go completely would ease the pain, the hurt.  It was impossible to let go, though. Impossible to stop hoping that one day he'd appear, knock on the door with an insouciant grin and a declaration that he was home, this time for good.
    Then he did exactly that.
    Last year he showed up on my parents' doorstep.  And instead of feeling the relief and warm rush of love I expected, I was angry.  Bitterness washed over me in a hot tide.  How dare he come back, after all these years?  How dare he expect us to welcome him back into our lives, as if we've been waiting for the last decade with empty, open arms?
    For days I refused to see him, and just the thought of him, arrogantly expecting us to take him back with grateful urgency, made me choke. 
    Rob finally approached me, came to the school where I taught.  Children streamed past in an unruly wave and they suddenly reminded me of myself, years ago, when Rob had left.  I stood there, watching him.  Waiting.
    “You said you'd come back.” I hadn't meant to say it.
    “I know.” Rob shrugged, smiling faintly.  I expected him to make a joke, laugh it off as he always did.  Perhaps even tease me for caring so much. Instead he said what I longed to hear.  “I'm sorry.”
    “So am I,” I snapped.  “That doesn't change things.”
    “I wouldn't expect it to.” He looked tired then, and old.
    Tears crowded my eyes and I blinked them away. “Why are you so selfish?” I cried.
    Rob sighed, rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to be selfish. I just wanted to be free.”
    “Free!  From what, us?”
    “Everything. I could never do the expected thing, go to uni, get a job, live a life out doing the nine to five.  I know it's what everyone wanted, and it would've been easier, but I couldn't do it.  I just couldn't. It would have suffocated me.”
    I believed him, but it didn't make it easier. “You could've visited, called,” I insisted.  “Stayed in touch!  Instead you cut us out of your life completely.”  As if he'd had a pair of scissors.
    “It was easier that way.” Rob took a step towards me. “I was afraid, if I stayed too long, I wouldn't leave again.  You'd all… make me stay.” 
    “We never had that kind of power!”
    “Yes, you did,” Rob said quietly.  “By loving me. The times I came home, there was a part of me that wanted to stay. And that scared me.”
    “Scared you? Because we loved you?”
    “That’s just the way I’m made.” Rob shrugged.
    “That’s an excuse,” I snapped, and Rob nodded.
    “Maybe it is.” He took a deep breath. “Nat, I know you were young, you probably felt it more than Susan, and I'm sorry for that. I haven't been the best brother to you.”
    “You haven't been a brother at all.”  I took a steadying breath.  “Why are you back this time?  Need a passport, clean clothes?”
    “No, I have cancer.”
    I felt as if I'd been slapped.  Yet even then I couldn't give in.  “Oh, I see, so now we're supposed to say sorry, all's forgiven, let's hold your hand, right?”
    For once I'd penetrated his armor, and at the look of naked hurt in his eyes I felt both savage triumph and hopeless regret.  Now you know what it feels like. Except I didn't want him to know.  No one deserves that.
    “Never mind.”  He turned away, shoulders slumped.
    I almost watched him go. Then I remembered before he had left. I remembered being ten years old, sitting on his bed while he showed me how to strum guitar chords. I remember him taking me to films instead of his friends, and sharing a huge tub of