The Keeper of Dawn by J.B. Hickman Read Free Book Online Page A

floorboard shone through. This faded perimeter consisted of
a foot-wide swath in the shape of a perfect circle, one that could not have
been drawn more precisely with a compass.
    “Please, sit,” Grandfather said, motioning to the couch.
    He went to the picture window that overlooked the porch. A
television was positioned in the corner; it was an ancient thing, sagging
heavily on four legs, stacked with books, the thick screen bulging outward,
covered in a layer of dust that indicated it had accepted its purpose as that
of another bookshelf.
    “So I’m the one who drove David away, am I? Made him quit
his job and run away from home. Is that what they told you?” He glanced over
his shoulder as if expecting an answer, and perhaps he got one from my
expression, for he turned back around before I could reply. “No, I highly doubt
a retired schoolteacher is capable of such things. But there was a time when I
tried doing just that. I was much younger, of course. I was intent on steering
a young man down what I believed to be the proper path. And sure enough, the
only thing I accomplished was to drive him away. But that young man wasn’t your
brother, Jacob.”
    He turned from the window. “It was your father. And believe
me, I’ve had many years to dwell on my mistake. So I wasn’t about to do the
same with David. Your brother needed someone to talk to, and I was willing to
listen. He came to me one day, complaining of a family who was taking over his
life: which, of course, I was all too familiar with. As he got older, your
father became more and more insistent that David follow in his footsteps.” He
sighed. “The burdensome influence fathers have over their sons … Call it human
instinct, call it hubris of man, call it whatever you like. The truth is, I’m
guilty of it, and so is your father.
    “The first time David came to me, he was a senior at
Princeton. His path to becoming a lawyer was falling into place. He’d stop over
when he was home on break.” Grandfather smiled at the memory. “We’d talk for
hours. As a matter of fact, he’d sit in that exact same spot.”
    “But you couldn’t talk him out of going to law school?”
    “I didn’t want to. If he asked for my advice, I gave it. Most
of the time we talked of other things. I’m not sure if he put much stock in his
grandpa’s advice or not, but we developed a friendship. And that’s a rare
thing—friendship bridging three generations. I barely knew my grandparents, let
alone became friends with them.”
    Grandfather walked as he spoke, pacing the edges of the
room. He performed this motion slowly, thoughtfully, his slippered-feet
shuffling along. Watching him, it occurred to me that his path matched the
circular pattern in the carpeting. Never once did he look down to see where he
was going; instead, he looked at me or the space in front of him, his feet
never leaving the worn circle in the floor. Grandfather didn’t walk the
circle’s perimeter; rather, he was pulled along it as if led by some unseen
guide.
    “But yes, in the end, David chose to go to law school. Though
law wasn’t his true calling, he felt he was too far along to change direction. Now
he’s off exploring the world. What your parents had hoped was an overdue trip
to Europe has become something else entirely. Last I checked, Santiago is
nowhere near Europe. Can’t even keep track of what continent he’s on, let alone
country. And your parents think I’m to blame for putting such crazy notions in
his head. I guess it’s my reputation of always sticking my nose in other
people’s business. But let them think what they wish. I have no regrets. How
can I regret the very thing that brought me closer to one of my grandchildren?”
    Suddenly he stopped. “What? What is it?”
    “Nothing.”
    “It’s something, because you’re clearly not paying attention
to a single word I’m saying. So let’s get this resolved before I waste any more
time on you. Now, out with it!”