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Show -139 patterns that reminded me of high-school experiments carried out with iron filings and a magnet held under a sheet of paper "Sometimes it's better not to be too quick," Jacob said. He had a somber stubborn expression. "What are you getting at? Is something the matter? Hey, Jacob." "I want us to do what Brady said. Bury Adam and forget it. It's all over. People die ridiculous and purely accidental deaths every day, Buck. Even more peculiar than that one. Read the newspapers." Another gust dropped more dry needles on the sloping hood in front of us. New patterns. But if, like the iron filings, they were a tangible clue to some underlying otherwise unguessable bit of order in the cosmos, I couldn't interpret it. "I don't say that Brady's a liar, but he believes what he wants to believe," I said. "And newspapers lie too." "Just the three of us," Jacob repeated. I saw that in that slow awkward sincere manner of his he was trying to make me understand something. Something sad. My brother has a face built to signal the somber emotions-happiness doesn't sit well on it, and light-heartedness dies there like a seedling dropped on rocky soil. "Our father's dead and we have certain obligations," I said. Why else had I come back? Family is family. I |
