sky.
“Are you ready to go?” Jack’s father said.
“No,” Jack said. He was an adult now, walking beside his father. “Why did you come back?”
“You know. Somebody’s got to watch out for you and because…” David looked at Jack and smiled. “because you’re my son.”
The funeral was on Wednesday. Mia sat in the front right pew, her girls at her side. Frank’s widow, Lisa, was there, Jack’s mother, Mia’s parents, and Joy Todd.
Ryan McCourt gave the eulogy, speaking of faith, hope, love, and, as he looked at Mia, miracles.
Jack was buried in the Banksville Cemetery near his father. Only immediate family and friends were there as his casket was lowered into the earth under the warm rays of the summer sun.
Jack’s final act, his gift of love, had somehow saved Mia. She didn’t know how, whether it was a miracle, magic, or faith, but somehow Jack had saved her. Mia reached up, wrapped her hands around the blue necklace, and smiled.
As the crowd began to disperse, leaving Mia and the girls to say their final good-byes, Joy walked over to Mia’s father. She took a moment, drying her eyes, allowing her presence to call his attention.
“Mr. Norris? My name is Joy Todd. I was Jack’s assistant. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Norris nodded.
“This is from Jack.” Joy handed an envelope to Norris. He stared at it, confused, as Joy walked away without another word.
Sam Norris walked into his study. It was after 10:00 p.m. Mia and his two granddaughters were asleep upstairs. They would all be staying with him and his wife for the foreseeable future.
He reached into the breast pocket of his sportcoat and withdrew the envelope, tearing it open. He read the note once through and turned his attention to the large mahogany box that Jack had made and that Mia had filled with cheap fishing gear, giving it to him for his birthday-the night of their fateful accident.
He picked up the eighteen-inch-square box, turning it around. It was of excellent construction, pure, nearly invisible seams. He regretted not complimenting Jack on the impressive work. There was always such regret for things left unsaid when someone passed away.
Norris lifted the lid of the box and looked inside; he pulled out the lures and line and stared at the brass plaque that Jack had affixed: Forever Young-7/1/38 to Eternity. He let out a half-smile and closed it. He laid his hands on the left rear leg and the front right leg as the note had described. Each leg was only a half-inch tall, raising the case barely off the table.
He pushed them at the same time and heard a subtle click. He then reread the letter. And this time, did the same thing with the other two legs. A second click sounded from the inside. He lifted the lid as the written instructions stated, and the front of the case slid forth, allowing a large drawer to pop out like magic. Norris reached in and withdrew a large glassine bag marked Evidence.
There was a second note inside. He withdrew it and began to read. Dear Sam, If you are reading this, then something has happened. We never know the path of fate. Reality is all a matter of perspective. And sometimes the unexplainable occurs. We cannot see the road that our lives will take, but the contents of this box may beg to differ. These items along with a gift of a blue necklace were sent to me by a Cotis priest. He and I had an appointment, but for now obvious reasons, he never arrived. It seems he has died, a matter that is currently under investigation. He had implored, speaking to me about his son, Nowaji Cristos, who was executed for the murders near the UN nearly eighteen months ago. As his son was executed as a result of my conviction, I felt I owed the man at least five minutes of my time. Over the phone, he spoke of knowing the future, of things to come, of warnings I should heed, a statement I immediately dismissed and surmised would be the topic of our future conversation. The day after his death, I received these items…
Norris thumbed through the two red leather books. The pages in the first were all in a language he couldn’t comprehend, while the second was half foreign, half English, with dates and times in a diary fashion. And on the final page were five names.
He closed them both.
Norris picked up the single detailed drawing; it was of Jack dead on the riverbank, a drawing from five days ago… predating the accident and his death. I am unsure who killed the priest, but there is a nagging fear I have. I ask that you look into this matter, using your utmost discretion, keep these items safe, and watch over Mia, as I know you will. I have and will love her forever and always.
Your son-in-law,
Jack
Norris looked at the writing on the top of the drawing. The lettering was cursive and rich, in an odd but beautiful language. His eyes fell on the text below it. It, too, was hand written, in cursive lettering, written in English.
Your future can be glimpsed in the magical hours at…
Half-past dawn.
