Children of Hope Read Online Free PDF

practically begging me not to turn you away … what went wrong, Randy?”
    As I poured out my troubles, a leaden weight in my chest began to lift. When I was done, I stared at the table, brooding, hungry, ashamed.
    “So.”
    My attention jerked from the cake, so near to my plate, and so far.
    “You’ll want to stay here.” It was more statement than question.
    I shrugged. “I suppose.” In a distant recess of my mind, Dad frowned. Kev deserved better, not only because I needed a place to stay, but because his offer—if that’s what it was—was generous and kind. “I’d really like that. Do you think I could?” Only for a while, I added silently, until I figured what to do next.
    “Fine by me, but we’ll have to ask Dad. If I invited you without his approval …” He rolled his eyes.
    I nodded sourly. Parents—and older nephews—could be an intolerable burden. “He’ll be home soon?”
    “Not for hours.” He threw on his jacket. “Let’s go.”
    “Where?”
    “The shop. Better chance he’ll say yes if we don’t spring it on him late at night.” He headed for the door.
    Another long walk? My body groaned its protest, but dutifully I followed.
    It wasn’t that far, it turned out. Just a mile or so, past Churchill Park, through the maze of downtown stores and offices. Past the Naval barracks. We were no longer a colony, but in practical terms we had little choice but to allow the U.N. Navy its downtown barracks, and its Admiralty House near the spaceport. By U.N. regs, sailors were entitled to thirty days’ long-leave after a voyage of nine months or more; the sprawling barracks was the sensible and traditional solution to housing.
    I’d once asked Anth why we didn’t build high, the way the holos showed Terran cities. “Because land’s available,” he’d said. “Consider: we’ve more land mass than Earth itself, and only three cities to speak of.”
    “There’s dozens of—”
    “Places like Tyre, or Winthrop? I’m not talking about country towns.” He shook his head to shut off debate. “When you’re older and seen the worlds, you’ll understand.”
    Hah. As if Anthony had ever seen much beyond Detour, a few weeks by Fusion. He’d toured Constantine, Earth’s newest colony. And that was about it. I’d stuck out my tongue, at his back. He’d seen, in the window reflection, and booted me from his study.
    Now, striding beside Kevin, I grimaced. In truth, I didn’t always treat Anthony that well, though I’d be loath to admit it. Take last night: he’d unbent enough to admit he was in trouble, and I was compounding it by running away. Well, I wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t lost his temper and—
    “We’re here.”
    I peered about. We were in the heart of Centraltown’s business district, such as it was. Buildings of three stories or more cast long shadows on the scrupulously clean street.
    DAKKO & SON read the sign. It was attached to what was, for Centraltown, an imposing edifice. A full five stories, fronted in granite blocks. The door handle was ornate antique brass, and gleamed.
    “Are you the son?”
    “No, Dad is.” He guided me in.
    The lobby was, I suppose, a typical reception area. I hadn’t been downtown much. A well-dressed young woman looked up with a welcoming smile. “Shall I tell him you’re here?”
    “Please.” Kevin’s tone was tense.
    We took seats. “What’s your dad do?”
    “We started out as chandlers to the Navy. Victuallers,” Kev added, seeing my incomprehension. “You know. Suppliers. Then Dad bought into the grain mills, and—”
    “He’ll see you now.”
    Kevin shot to his feet, yanked a comb from his pocket, whipped it through his hair. He tugged at his shirt, straightened his collar. I couldn’t help grinning, though it made him frown. He strode to a closed door, peered in. “Dad?” His tone was cautiously polite.
    I could find other places to stay, if that’s how it would be. Kevin actually sounded afraid of his old man.