“With all the Frank Lloyd Wright houses he’s purchased,” Amy said, immediately understanding.
“Yeah, exactly. It’s like in Citizen Kane. This place is his Rosebud. Well, the Rosebud was my mother.”
“Did he apologize to you? Or try to make any amends?”
Will shook his head. “He’s incapable of anything like that. But I do know something. Just like those houses he’s digging up and transplanting to his property, he wants to own everything, including his three sons. Even me. He told me he personally put me out of business.”
A slow-moving car made both of them look out to the street.
“We should go,” Will said.
“What are we going to do now?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago. Something my pride prevented me from doing.”
4.
“Hey, Callie? Bella? Can you guys come up to your room?”
It was the third time he had asked them this evening, and this time he was louder and more urgent. They eventually scampered up the steps and walked into the large bedroom.
“I want you guys to do something very important,” he told the girls. “Okay?”
“What is it?” Callie asked.
“Does it have something to do with school?” Bella asked.
“No. It’s just— Callie, come over here by your bed. We’re all going to take a trip to Michigan today. To see Grandma and Grandpa.”
“Yay!” Callie said.
“Do we have to?” Bella naturally reacted the opposite way.
“I want you guys to start packing some of your favorite things you’d like to take with you. Okay?”
“Like how much?” Bella asked.
“Just a few toys.”
Callie wrapped her arms around her stuffed animals. “Like my stuffies!”
“Not all four hundred of them,” he said. “Only your favorites.”
Will and Amy had already packed enough to cover a few days. Will had also wanted to box up the “important” things, like the fireproof safe and family mementos and other personal artifacts. Just in case something prevented them from coming back. Just in case someone broke into their house or decided to burn it down. Even though Amy didn’t fully understand his fears and his need to bring all these personal items, she didn’t fight him on it. But the last thing they wanted the girls to think was that they were moving.
“When are we leaving?” Callie shouted.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“But we have school!”
“You get to miss it,” he said to her. The twins erupted in applause and screams. “Plus, we’ll have some treats before we drive. Maybe ice cream or brownies.” Anything to get everybody out without drama.
With the smell of spaghetti in the air and the sound of the girls looking through drawers and stuffing toys in their bags, Will looked around his office as he filled another box. He could hear the footsteps behind him.
“Daddy?”
He turned to see Shaye looking worried. “What is it?”
“What’s going on? Why are we going to see Grandma and Grandpa tomorrow?”
“We haven’t seen them in a while,” he said, which was true.
“I know, but…you hate going to see Grandma and Grandpa.”
“No I don’t,” he said with a frown.
“Yeah you do. Last time Mommy wanted to go, you guys argued, and she took just us.”
“It was Christmastime. You know how busy the store can be then.”
“You said you didn’t want Grandpa offering you a job.”
She can hear everything.
“And why are we going tomorrow?” she continued. “It’s a school day.”
“Maybe I’m going to ask Grandpa for a job,” Will said.
“Are you serious?”
Will smiled and nodded.
“Is that why you and Mom are packing up everything?” She scanned the boxes in his office and then looked around at the bare bookshelves and the missing photos.
She was too smart to be only eleven. Or maybe she knew her father too well.
“Just get your stuff ready,” he said.
“Daddy, are you—” Shaye suddenly covered her face with her hands and started to cry.
Will stood up and moved over to her and held her. “Shaye, what’s wrong?”
“Daddy—are you leaving us?”
For a second he didn’t understand what she was asking. When he realized, he clutched her harder. “No, sweetie. I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”
“But you and Mommy— All you guys do is fight. And you look sad all the time.”
“No I don’t,” Will said. “And like I told you, things have been tough. But I don’t want to argue with your mother. We shouldn’t argue.”
She looked up at him, wiping her wide, beautiful eyes. “You never make me laugh anymore.”
Will stopped, not breathing for a moment, then gave her a big, sad smile. “I know,” he admitted. “And that’s gotta change. I need to change. Okay? But I’m not leaving you guys. Ever. You understand? Okay?”
She wiped her eyes again and sniffled, nodding and looking down at the ground.
“Shaye, look at me. This trip—it’s good. We have to do this. If you’ve ever trusted Daddy in your life, you have to trust me now. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The look on her face was reassuring. She did trust him. And even though Shaye resembled him more than Amy, for the first time in a long time, Will saw the same expression on her face that he had seen on Amy earlier that day.
5.
Will Stewart stood for a moment on the edge of the overlook and scanned sprawling Lake Michigan. A sailboat was gliding along, all alone on the blue waters and underneath the blue skies. It seemed early in the season for a boat to be on the water. Will studied the craft and felt as if it was a perfect reminder. All of this—the morning and the hilltop and the lake and the sailboat and the sky—was a gentle whisper from God.
He sat back on the bench and looked at the sky. “Lord, thank You. For getting my attention. For waking me up. For everything.”
This morning as they left the house in their two cars, Will tried not to appear as emotional and sad and frustrated as he felt. He tried to show strength in front of Amy, but he wasn’t sure how well he was doing. She was driving straight to her parents’ house with the girls. Hutchence had told Will to meet him here at this park, so that’s exactly what he was doing.
A gust of wind came from the lake below and caused Will to close his eyes for a moment. He shifted on the park bench, sipping the cup of coffee he’d just purchased. Since Hutchence was nowhere to be found, Will continued his prayer out loud.
“I know it was my dream to open the store, and maybe it wasn’t Your will,” Will said, looking back out to the waters in the distance. “But I know You allow things to happen for a reason, Lord. I thank You for Your protection and Your mercies, Lord. And whatever happens with our family and with my father, I pray You will continue to protect us.”
He paused for a moment, letting the still settle around him like a heavy fog. He had intended to talk to God for only a few moments before Hutchence came. Will hadn’t meant for all this to come pouring out of him.
“I know there’s a war happening out there. A war happening now. Help me be the soldier You need me to be. Help that message of hope to be heard by the country in some way.”
Will could feel his heart beating, trying to keep up with a hundred thoughts.
“I think—I know—my mistake has been thinking and feeling and trying to do it on my own. And I know I can’t do anything without You, Lord. I—we—need to trust You. I’m willing to do anything.” He thought of his father-in-law and could already hear the condescending tone. “I’ll do anything, Lord. Ju
st open the door to show me.”
After a few more minutes passed, Will decided Hutchence wasn’t coming.
I hope someone didn’t get to him first.
He knew he needed to get back on the road and get moving again. He needed to be with Amy and the girls. As he tossed his empty coffee cup into a garbage can, he began to read a sign that explained the history of this stretch of land called Lookout Park in St. Joseph, Michigan.
In the early 1950s, at the point at which you now stand, nature was taking its toll along the shore of Lake Michigan. Erosion, caused by natural conditions, such as the disruption of currents caused by the dual piers just north of this site; was gradually occurring…
Will continued to read about the thirteen homeowners living here who took every precaution they could, building seawalls and placing boulders at the base of the bluff. The state highway department assured them their houses would safely stand for at least a hundred years. Yet in 1954, after eight days of rain that created massive mudslides, the homeowners needed to get out fast.
Though 1954 brought much hardship for the homeowners in this area as they faced not just the loss of a house, but a family home full of memories, we can take solace that no one was hurt, and pride in the strength of the community as people reached out to do what was needed to help move families and houses.
This plaque is dedicated to the people whose homes were lost to erosion, to those who faced the challenge of moving their homes.
Will looked out at the steadily moving lake water and couldn’t help singling out this line:
Time was running out, and families began to evacuate their homes.
He thought of the Reckoner. Now I know why you told me to meet you here.
Hutchence wasn’t coming. All he’d wanted was for Will to come here and read this sign. Perhaps this was a statement about what was to come or a picture of Christianity in America. Or maybe it was a metaphor for Will’s life and what needed to happen next.
Will had so many questions, enough to fill this deep body of water in front of him. The problem was he had stopped bringing them to God some time ago, and it was hard to start doing that again. Will gazed up toward the heavens again, the blue horizon appearing endless.
“I’m doing what I need to do, Lord, what You want me to do.”
TWENTY-THREE
While I’m Still Here
1.
He shouldn’t be in New York City, but Dowland didn’t care. Margaux told him to stay in Chicago, to let them sort things out and let everything settle down before figuring out their next move. Others left messages for him to call, for him to contact them, for him to meet them soon.
Mel Bohmer’s old, cranky voice came to mind: “These little messes you continue to make…”
This was no longer one little mess but rather a gigantic one.
So far Dowland hadn’t heard from Mel, and that wasn’t good. It could mean multiple things, none of which would serve him well to contemplate.
The person assaulting him on the Chicago sidewalk was linked to Zander Stock, the dead man he’d disposed of somewhere outside of Nashville. Whether this meant Kamaria was responsible for it or someone else associated with Zander was coming for vengeance, Dowland didn’t know. But that didn’t concern him in the least.
Nor was he concerned with the rapper License and Cheyenne Burne. Dowland wanted Keith Burne. All he wanted was to finish things and stop all this chaos and insanity.
That was why he reacted the moment he got the message on the night of the SYNAPSYS hack. “It’s done, Dowland. And what you need to do now is heed the warning we gave you and the rest of the country. There’s no need to come find any of us. We’ve done what we could.” The voice came through his SYNAPSYS, and once again it was the same person. The Reckoner.
Keith Burne.
He was the one.
This wasn’t a theory anymore. This time the contact information on the other end came clearly from Keith Burne’s very own SYNAPSYS.
“It could be a trap,” Margaux said to him.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“We need to tell others.”
“No we don’t. This is my job, and I’m going to finish it and somehow salvage what I can of my reputation. To get out of this alive.”
She argued for only a few moments. If he wanted to be stupid, she told him to go ahead. Her resistance to his chasing Keith Burne just urged him on.
It didn’t matter if he was driving into a trap. These Christian radicals hadn’t been violent, so Dowland didn’t expect an ambush. That was more likely to happen if he stayed in Chicago. So Dowland tracked down the SYNAPSYS, all the way to New York. A city big enough to get lost inside. Easy to cover a killing. Easy to hide if you’re wanted.
The cold rain fell as Dowland stood on the sidewalk and tapped the Beretta in its shoulder holster hidden underneath his overcoat. He felt the same as when he had arrived at the run-down motel in the middle of Indiana, moments before gunning down Senator Robert Vasquez. It hadn’t mattered that Vasquez wasn’t the Reckoner. He had been part of this underground network of fanatics and had been necessary to eliminate. Tonight he would finish what he had started. Tonight his job would be done. He could contact the powers that be and let them know the Reckoner had been dealt with. Whether that could save his life, Dowland didn’t know.
The information had been easy to access, and the description of the man in room 1432 matched Keith Burne. Margaux would have said the information was too easy to track down. But considering the absolute insanity of what was happening in Chicago tonight, Dowland needed to follow every lead he could.
The doors to the elevator in this old hotel crackled like the bones of an elderly man. After walking past several doors to reach 1432, Dowland stood there for a moment to decide what to do next. He knocked on the door and waited for several minutes, but nobody answered. He took a small metal card out of his pocket and waved it over the handle, unlocking it immediately. This was old-school technology the FBI used for doors like this.
With his Beretta leading the way, Dowland stepped into the room. Instead of seeing Keith Burne sitting on the edge of his bed or hiding behind it, he saw a gold flask resting on the dresser. It was unmistakable with its white-and-yellow gold cap topped with the Russian imperial double-headed eagle encrusted with diamonds.
Russo-Baltique 2027, the vodka he named his artificial friend after.
After scanning the entire room, he rushed to the bathroom and searched it, but Dowland didn’t find anybody. His first thought had been hasty and utterly foolish. She’s not here. This is a sick joke.
He walked back to the bottle, picked it up, and removed the cap. He found a glass and tilted the bottle over it, but nothing came out.
“Empty,” he said. “Classy.”
How in the world could the Reckoner know about Kamaria? There was no way, not something as secretive as that. Then another frightening thought hit him. Maybe this was Mel’s way of finally getting in touch with him. As fires raged through downtown Chicago and the streets flooded with protestors, maybe Mel and his secret group were sending Dowland a message. A warning? Or a threat?
I have to get in touch with Kamaria. She’s in danger.
As he set the empty bottle down, he saw the Clicknote on the dresser. It was black and the size and shape of lip balm and held a single disposable digital message. Dowland picked it up and pressed the top to play.
Kamaria appeared in front of him, and he couldn’t help gasping at her beauty. He hadn’t seen her in person for a long time, and even the photos and videos of her lately didn’t do justice. Virtual reality still wasn’t the real thing, but it was close enough. She stood as tall as he, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that said LICENSE. She smiled, but not in the kind, loving way she once reserved for him.
“Surprised to see me?” she asked
and paused for a second, making him believe this was live and real.
“Kam—listen, I can tell you—,” he blurted out before realizing he couldn’t communicate with her, that this was merely taped and not live.
“I hope this is the last message you’ll ever receive from anybody,” her message continued with her stare focused on him. “I hope these are the last words you think about before the end comes. And I really hope they scare you. I know it takes a lot to scare someone without a soul.”
She moved as if she were in the room, looking down at the floor and then back at him. Dowland walked over to the wall, once again scanning the room with his handgun and making sure nobody else was there.
“I want to play you a recording I still have, thanks to the beauty of technology. Remember the earthquake of ’28? Does that ring a bell? I still remember it. I was alone in the hotel room I was living in. A room like the one you’re in. A much nicer room, of course, but I was there all alone. And I called you and begged you to come out and help me. I called the man I loved and who claimed to love me and begged for help. But none came. Instead, this is what I got.”
Soon he heard his own voice, sounding young and full of himself and completely soused. “Listen, Kam, you’re gonna be fine. You’re always fine. Don’t worry about this. Okay? You know how busy I am, and everything’s gonna be okay. They’re making a big deal out of nothing. Just stay there and stay calm. You know I’d be there if I could. But just relax ’cause everything’s gonna be cool.”
The words made him sick. He winced and didn’t even want to watch the rest of this video Kamaria had made for him.
“That was all I ever needed to know about Jon Dowland. I should’ve stayed there, far away from you. It took me a long time to learn, but I learned, Jon.”
He cursed at the image as she continued to talk.
“You were looking for someone named the Reckoner? Well, he sends his regards. Whoever this person is, he was kind enough to let me in on what’s been happening. I don’t care about what you’re doing or the people you’re working for. But I do know you’ve failed. And I know what that failure is going to mean.”
American Omens Page 35