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Mom came into the room with more hesitation than Gary had anticipated.
“Mr. Porter?”
“Dan, please.” He indicated the photos. “Brad was a handsome young man.”
“So how do you work?”
Gary blinked. His mom wasn’t usually so abrupt. Then he reconsidered.She’s been through this so many times, and it’s always been without success. She’s steeling herself for failure.
“I thought I’d take Dan to Brad’s old room,” he offered.
“Do you want us there too?”Dad seems as ambivalent as Mom.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather see it on my own. Gary can stay with me, however, if that’s okay. I’m used to working with him around,” Dan explained.
“Whatever you want.”
Gary winced internally to hear the resignation in Mom’s voice. He recalled her past enthusiasm, even desperation, when she’d told him of yet another visit by yet another psychic, and each time no new information materialized, it seemed to him that something fractured inside her, splintering, shattering, taking off another piece of her soul.
He wasn’t sure Dan’s gift could do anything to repair that.
DAN PAUSEDat the door to Brad’s former bedroom, his heart pounding. There was no way he could anticipate what awaited him on the other side of that door. Each time he opened himself up fully, each time he allowed his gift to reveal where it would lead him, it always ended the same way—in sheer exhaustion. Heightened emotions sapped his energy, and he needed a day or two to recharge his batteries.
This was different.
This was Gary’s brother, ripped from the world in the same manner some… monster had ripped Brad’s heart from his body before laying it in his hands.
Gary touched his back. “He might not have been in there for the past twenty-three years, but this is still Brad’s room. Nothing has been touched. It’s more like a shrine.”
Dan nodded. He sucked air into his lungs. “I’m ready. Open the door.”
Gary did as he asked, and Dan took another deep breath before stepping into the room.
At first glance, it appeared to be a simply furnished bedroom. A colorful quilt covered the bed, and an oak chest of drawers stood against the wall. On top of it were models of fighter jets, planes. Books, posters, ornaments… they all told a story. Dan walked around the room, touching, soaking up what emotions remained.
There were so many of them.
Dan glanced at Gary. “He was a happy child, wasn’t he?”
Gary smiled. “Yes, he was.”
Dan went over to the drawers and pulled the top one open. Gary joined him.
“This was where he kept what he called his treasures.”
Dan dipped his fingers into the clutter. “So many memories,” he murmured. The room was full of them.
Maybe it was time to see where those memories might lead.
Dan picked up the first thing that came to hand. It was a plastic ring, the kind that used to come in cereal boxes. He held it, unable to repress the shiver that trickled through him.
A pleasurable shiver.
“You’re picking up on something, aren’t you?”
Dan had to smile. “Whoever gave him this? Brad was in love with them.”
Gary stared at him. “I never thought Brad might have been in love. Put it this way—he never said anything about there being anyone in his life.”
