Half-Past Dawn Read Free Page B

reach.
    Frank poked his head out of the kitchen, seeing Jack standing there, lost in thought, and remained silent.
    And then Jack saw her in his mind’s eye, standing there in all of her beauty, looking at the mirror as she brushed her long dark hair one last time, yelling at him to get dressed, that they were going to be late … again.
    It was as if a wellspring opened, flooding with images, thoughts, and sounds. Like from a separate life, distinct and apart from his own. It all came in, all of the joy and sounds of the party, of the never-ending rain, of the catered food. A movie unwinding before him.
    He nearly collapsed, grabbing the wall for stability, sliding down against it, coming to rest on the floor as he started to shake. His emotions were building up inside him, and last night’s moments ofjoy and anticipation shattered as rage and anger and fury filled him. He felt the pounding of the rain on his face, his body soaked and bloodied. And he finally boiled over as if awakened from one life to be thrust into another, where the shadows were darker, where pain was everywhere and life hung in the balance.
    He finally looked up at Frank, tears welling up … for his memory of the night before had returned.
    He knew what had happened.

CHAPTER 4
    Y ESTERDAY
    M IA WORE A BLACK dress, long, elegant, her lithe legs gliding along the floor as she walked arm-in-arm with Jack across the marble lobby of her parents’ house. The stately home was just short of a mansion, a brick dwelling with large rooms and high ceilings that dated back to the 1920s. Servants scampered around, carrying trays, adjusting floral arrangements, preparing for a party.
    Jack readjusted a birthday gift under his left arm. Wrapped haphazardly in fishing-themed paper, the eighteen-inch-square box was awkward and difficult to carry.
    They opened double doors and entered a small, cozy gentleman’s den. An oversized desk sat before the bay window, nothing on it but a brass elephant paperweight and a humidor. A life’s worth of books filled the shelves, and family pictures were scattered around, of Mia with her mother and stepfather below a white lighthouse, at the beach, skiing, of friends, family, and life, of Mia standing with a strong military man in dress uniform.
    “I know it’s a day early, but happy birthday,” Mia said.
    On the red button-tuck leather couch sat a white-haired gentlemen,his broad shoulders projecting strength despite the evident years on his face. Dressed in a pale green blazer and dark slacks, he had an exacting style that matched his demeanor. He finally looked up with cold, assessing eyes at Jack and Mia.
    “Your mother will use any excuse for a party,” the man said. His voice was deep, with no sense of celebration.
    Jack handed the gentleman the colorfully wrapped package. The man’s dark eyes narrowed as he took in the crinkled paper of the unevenly wrapped gift.
    “The girls spent a lot of time picking out that paper,” Mia said as she pointed out the bigmouth bass and the fishing rod. “Open it,” she urged him.
    He sat back on his leather couch, placing the package on the coffee table in front of him. He pushed aside his newspapers and muted the TV.
    He was born on July 1, and his mother named him Samuel, as her due date had been the Fourth of July and she had grown attached to it. But Sam Norris hated that name and hadn’t gone by it since grade school.
    Leaning forward, Sam wrapped his large hand around the present and tore off the wrapping, revealing a polished wooden box, its cherry wood waxed to a high sheen. He lifted the lid of the furniture-quality case to find an assortment of small individual packages adorned in the crooked bows of a child’s hand: a fly-fishing reel, flies, string, lures.
    “The girls are still waiting for you to live up to that promise of taking them on one of your fishing jaunts.”
    Mia’s stepfather smiled as he held up the box, looking at its detail, at its perfect joints and