The World More Full of Weeping Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’ll come tomorrow?”
    He nodded. “Meet you right here?”
    She smiled.
    He turned away, started to walk, then turned back
jerkily. “Here,” he said, his face reddening as he extended
the flowers to her. “These are for you.”
    She took them with a smile and a warm glow in her
eyes. As she smelled them, he turned away, walking briskly
across the field toward his father’s shop.
    He didn’t look back.
    His thoughts were filled with excuses, possible scenarios
he could use to explain to his father how late he was. It
never occurred to Brian to just tell him the truth. He didn’t
know why.
    It didn’t matter anyway. When he got to the shop, his
father was deep in his work, his eyes tight on the tools but
his mind far away.
    It was as if he hadn’t even noticed his son had been
gone.

    â€œYou don’t get out there much, do you?”
    Jeff wasn’t startled by John Joseph’s voice beside him:
the older man had crossed the back lawn without a sound,
but Jeff had heard the screen door close.
    When he turned toward him, John offered him a mug. “I
took a little liberty with the bottle on your counter.”
    The steam above the mug smelled of coffee and
Jameson’s. “Thanks.”
    They both turned their attention to the forest. It was
darker now, and Jeff could hear voices coming gradually
closer to his farm.
    â€œThey’ll be coming to get their night gear,” John said.
“Dean’ll probably have the truck stop at the back first, get
them set up before he comes back here.”
    Jeff nodded, not really listening, and took a sip of his
coffee. “That’s nice,” he said, as it warmed him all the way
down. “Thanks.”
    â€œYou don’t, do you?” John said, not looking away from
the dark forest.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œGo out in the woods much.” He turned to face Jeff.
“’Least not too deep.”
    â€œI used to take Brian for walks back there, before he was
old enough to go on his own.”
    John nodded thoughtfully. “Always stayed in sight of
the farm, though, I’m guessing.”
    Jeff shrugged. “I guess. I don’t really like being out there
too far. Not my sort of place.”
    John looked at him, the beginnings of a smile seeming
to teeter at the corners of his mouth. “It sure used to be.
Back when you were Brian’s age, you practically lived in the
woods.”
    â€œI played there a bit.”
    â€œIt was more than that. Your father was always chasing
after you in there, making sure you weren’t hung up
somewhere, making sure you weren’t late for dinner. You
spent the winter you were nine or ten planning a camp back
there for the next summer. Not a camping trip — a camp.
You were gonna spend the summer living back there. You
had it all figured out.”
    Something tickled again at the back of Jeff’s mind,
a sense of displaced familiarity that allowed him — no,
forced him — to concede to John’s words. “I guess. I don’t
remember that at all.” He took another sip of his coffee.
    The older man had turned his gaze back to the dark,
to the rising voices. “I’m not surprised. Not after what
happened.”
    â€œAfter what happened?” The tickle was stronger, and
he knew what John was going to tell him without actually
remembering.
    Like father like son.
    John turned back to him. “You really don’t remember.”
He didn’t seem at all surprised.
    â€œI — ”
    â€œThat spring, the spring you were eleven years old, you
disappeared. You were gone overnight. Almost two days.”
    Jeff looked at him incredulously. He knew the words
were true — though he wasn’t sure of just how he knew — but
he couldn’t help feel that they were referring to someone
else. He couldn’t make the words match up to his own life.
    â€œTwo days.”
    John nodded. “And a