something that brought the two animals or passed them through from wherever. I don’t know. I was very afraid, but at the same time … more alive inside than I had been for a long, long time. And … I was changed.”
The blind man considered this in silence for a while, and then he said, “Are you my Tom?”
“Yes, Dad. I’m your Tom.”
“Oh, I want to touch your face.”
“It’s not a good face, Dad. I’m afraid for Mom to see it.”
From behind the bench, a woman said, “I’ve seen it, my love. You passed me on the way to sit with your father. You didn’t know me, but I knew you.”
Tom allowed his father to touch his face, and his father wept, not only at his son’s suffering, but also with joy.
When Tom rose and turned to see his mother, she said, “You are so beautiful, Tom. No, look at me. You are beautiful. Your face is a face of transcendence.”
Seventy-two
Cammy watched them from the kitchen window as they frolicked in the new snow with Merlin. But for their black hands, black feet, and black noses, they might have been invisible.
The coffeemaker began to gurgle, and the sudden aroma of fresh Jamaica blend flooded the kitchen.
Grady said, “Already, I’m inadequate to homeschool them. Their minds leap ahead of mine. Think you could help?”
“I’d like nothing more. But they’ll probably leap ahead of me too, in no time.”
He joined her at the window, a hand on her shoulder. “Do you lie awake some nights, wondering where this is going — I mean the world now, with them in it and everything so changed?”
She shook her head. “No. Wherever they’re going, they’re taking the world with them, and I know beyond doubt that wherever they want us to be, that’s where we’ll belong.”
About the Author
DEAN KOONTZ is the author of many #1
Correspondence for the author should be addressed to:
Dean Koontz P.O. Box 9529 Newport Beach, California 92658
