|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ing it hook, line and sinker. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"I know you buried Father close to here," Charlie said softly. "I remember how he loved this area, how he looked forward to coming here every summer." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Theodore sagged down on the seat next to his brother and nodded. "He died in Detroit. He was there on business. I was with him. He knew it was happening. We talked for hours the night he died. We talked about you and death and where he wanted to be buried. He asked me to find a spot in the old cemetery at Cold Springs. He wanted a place that overlooked the harbor." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Will you take me there?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Theodore's eyes were clouded. He nodded. Maybe, just maybe, after all these years, his brother had changed. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Harbor Hill Cemetery was all but abandoned. It sat high on a tree-sheltered bluff overlooking the harbor, three miles from the village of Cold Springs. Charlie had been there only once before, when his grandfather had died, but the images had emblazoned themselves on his mind for all eternity. Now, as his brother slowed to turn off the narrow ribbon of blacktop onto the overgrown gravel path guarded by two decaying and weathered cement lion sentinels, the hurt in those recollections rushed to the forefront of his |
|
|
|
|
|