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  The missing thing returned. The great, big, sad whirlpool sucked them down again. Ben’s face flushed. I’m such an idiot.

  GranPat’s watery eyes focused on the empty chair next to him. Jack’s chair.

  Chapter 2

  Mom carried the dirty dinner dishes from the dining room into the kitchen. Ben followed with the serving bowls and set them on the counter. She kept her back to him as she rinsed the dishes and piled them in the sink. Without looking at him, she told him she could handle kitchen duty by herself. He waited a full minute, but she continued working in silence. He hung his head. She doesn’t want me around.

  Walking back through the dining room, he found GranPat and Dad in the living room telling war stories. Ben sat on the couch next to his grandfather, who’d once been Captain Patrick McDugan in Vietnam a long time ago. Dad had served as Army mechanic during the Gulf War.

  Ben frowned. What if he enlisted in the service too? Would that make them proud? He pictured himself in a firefight with automatic weapons and incoming artillery shells. If he never came back, would they miss him too?

  When Mom joined them around eight, she barely looked at him.

  Ben relinquished his seat on the couch, and excused himself.

  “Hold on a minute,” GranPat said. “Come over and give me a proper goodbye before you disappear.” GranPat’s eyes seemed bright and cheery as he offered his hand.

  Ben grasped the outstretched hand.

  GranPat squeezed gently and met his eyes. “When your Grandma Betty passed six years ago, it was the saddest day of my life.” He glanced at Mom. “I was inconsolable.” His eyes returned to Ben’s. “She was the sweet joy in my life. Miss Betty loved me through my darkest days, nursed me when I took ill, and laughed at all me silly jokes. We had fun together. She understood me better than anyone else. She was me best friend and I miss her every day.”

  Tears welled in GranPat’s eyes. “I wanted to die and follow her to the next place, but I knew she wouldn’t want me to throw this life away.” GranPat took a deep breath. “We all miss Jack too. I hope to see his smile again, but until that day, we need to live our own lives with purpose. Just remember to do your best, and keep breathin’.”

  Ben’s chest tightened. He tried to pull his hand from GranPat’s grasp, but his grandfather held tight. He glanced around the room. Mom had buried her face in her hands. Dad’s eyes narrowed upon GranPat, but he remained quiet. After a moment, Mom stood and walked upstairs. Dad followed.

  “Ben, look at me.” GranPat’s eyes looked red. “Am I right?”

  “Yes, sir,” he croaked, “but—”

  “It’s goin’ to be okay.” GranPat hugged him and let him go. “Trust me.”

  He and his grandfather sat down across from each other. Ben wanted to tell him how much he missed Grandma Betty and Jack too, but didn’t want to make . . . GranPat feel worse.

  “Out with it, boy. You can talk to me.”

  “How does . . .” Ben swallowed, “light travel through space?”

  GranPat blinked, took a breath, and explained both wave and particle theories. As his grandfather got rolling, they both relaxed. Ben marveled at how much this man knew, and wished he could be more like him.

  After ten minutes, Dad returned. “Patty’s resting. Been a long day.”

  Ben slunk upstairs to his room, pulled down the shades, and laid on his bed in the twilight. Ben rolled around, but the covers wrapped him like a shroud. He felt stupid for upsetting Mom at dinner, but amazed at what GranPat said about Jack in front of his parents. He wished he could be as brave. Keep breathin’.

  Ben hoped his parents had calmed down and would allow him to visit GranPat. He needed to get away for a while. He hadn’t stayed overnight in Carmichael since Jack’s burial at Holy Rosary Cemetery. Someday, he and his parents would be buried near Jack and Grandma Betty. All together again.

  The last time he stayed over at GranPat’s house when Grandma still lived, he’d been nine years old. Grandma loved to cook. Dinner included roast beef, mashed potatoes with a glob of melted butter, whipped sweet potatoes with brown sugar and mini-marshmallows, and dark brown gravy loaded with mushrooms. Ben had squinted at the gravy.

  “They’re fungus,” a twelve-year-old Jack whispered. “Some are poisonous. The bad ones make you gag so hard your eyeballs pop right out your head.”

  “What?” Ben had said loudly.

  Mom shushed them and passed the gravy boat.

  Ben skipped the gravy, as did his father and brother. For dessert, Grandma served ice cream with homemade chocolate and peanut sauce she called dope. After checking for mushrooms, and finding none, Ben ladled the warm “dope” on his vanilla ice cream.

  After dinner, Jack asked to see GranPat’s cellar laboratory.

  “He’s gotta laser gun down there,” Jack said. “I’ve seen it.”

  As GranPat escorted them down to his well-lit workshop, Ben felt like he’d entered a cave of secrets. His breath quickened. Bright ceiling lights shone upon a microscope, computers, and glass bottles of all sizes and shapes. He saw motors, machines, and shelves stacked with gizmos, gadgets, and spare parts.

  Jack whooped loudly when he grabbed a long glass tube from a shelf. “What’s this?”

  “Stop right there,” GranPat said. He delicately took the three foot purple tube from Jack and laid it down on the table. “If this breaks you might cut your fingers.”

  “What is it?” Ben asked. His eyes grew as wide as his grin.

  “This is a spare part from a laser accelerator.” GranPat adjusted his glasses and examined the tube.

  “C’mon, GranPat, show us how it works,” Jack said. “We won’t tell anyone.”

  GranPat barked a laugh. “Maybe someday, if I ever get it to work again.”

  “We could use a laser to hunt dinosaurs!” Ben said.

  Jack scoffed. “We’d need a time machine first.”

  Ben turned towards GranPat and raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe someday in the future we’ll be able to visit the past, but not today.”

  That evening, Ben’s parents drove back to Carlston without the boys. He and Jack sat with the grans in their living room.

  “Okay, boys,” GranPat asked. “What should we watch?”

  “Ancient Aliens,” Jack said.

  “Mythbusters,” Ben countered.

  GranPat scrolled the upcoming episodes. “Okay, Jack’s choice describes how ancient aliens may have built the pyramids. I bet if we had a time machine, we would find that ancient architects, mathematicians, and thousands of slaves built those structures. Now, Mythbusters explores survival on a desert island usin’ duct tape.”

  Both boys shook their heads left and right.

  The screen flashed as GranPat deftly thumbed the remote. “Let’s try the Science Channel.”

  “Battlebots!” Ben cried.

  Jack smiled in agreement.

  They watched the battle with the lights dimmed. A small wheeled robot with a sharp circular blade attacked a boxy tracked bot carrying a heavy hammer. Jack hooted and cheered for the saw-bot.

  “Drop the hammer,” Ben shouted, and glanced at his grandfather. The large screen television cast light and shadow, back and forth, across GranPat’s wide grin. In the flickering light, GranPat’s face seemed to transform from the mad visage of Dr. Jekyll to the Mr. Hyde he’d once seen portrayed in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Ben tilted his head and remembered GranPat had eaten two servings of mushroom gravy at dinner.

  After the show, GranPat took a late night call from Phylo Caliban and disappeared into his study. Ben and Jack played hide and seek in the house for an hour until Grandma Betty herded them upstairs to the spare bedroom with the bunk bed. Jack claimed the top bunk and Ben crawled into the bottom.

  Later that night, Ben laughed when he heard GranPat snoring from down the hall. Jack warned him it must be the grizzly bear that had escaped from the Carmichael Zoo. “Too bad you have the bottom bunk.”

  “Why?
” Ben asked.

  “That’s where bears like to feed.”

  Thirty minutes later, Jack snuck down from the top bunk, grabbed him in a monster hug, and growled. Ben knew it was only Jack, but screamed anyway.

  “Tag you’re it, Brother Bear,” Jack laughed.

  Ben liked the nickname. “Back to the zoo for you!”

  Sometime after midnight, Grandma woke them from their warm beds and led them outside onto the balcony in the cool autumn air. She held her white robe tight against her chest and looked scared. Her eyes looked big enough to pop.

  “Listen.” She stared at the moonlit trees.

  Whoo. Whoo.

  “Oh dear.” Grandma shivered. “Did you hear that?”

  Ben shivered too.

  “It’s just an owl, Grandma,” Jack said with his arms folded.

  Grandma stared into the night as the moon shone on her creased forehead. “A long time ago, my own Grandmother told me, if an owl hoots outside your house three times, Death is sure to follow.” She steadied herself on the iron railing.

  Jack touched her hand. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He and Jack shared a nervous look as their bare feet grew colder on the balcony floor. Ben teared up.

  Jack’s smile flashed in the moonlight. “Don’t worry, Grandma, it’s only a silly bird that can’t sleep.”

  Grandma had died three months later from pancreatic cancer. Afterward, GranPat often grew weepy when he spoke of ‘Miss Betty’, and stopped visiting Carlston. Mom said GranPat had buried himself in his work, and spent all of his free time locked in his cellar laboratory. Ben had overheard Mom tell Dad that GranPat was trying to build a special radio to contact Grandma Betty. Jack told Ben not to tell anyone else. It was a family secret.

  Years later, Mom had told Ben how GranPat had earned degrees in electrical and mechanical engineering, thanks to Uncle Sam and the G.I. Bill. He accrued royalties on fifteen separate patents, which helped support his semi-retirement. He also served on the board of trustees for Holy Rosary Hospital’s engineering sub-group since 1984. But, even she didn’t know what he did for the DOD. That was a mystery.

  Ben’s thoughts returned to the present. He picked up his phone and the display read 8:15 p.m. He checked his text messages and then Facebook, scrolling through pictures of people having much more fun than he on a Saturday night. He sent a text message to his best friend. Need to get out of the house. Too wired. You busy? Ben. He watched the blank screen. Nothing. Nothing. Bling.

  Be over in 20, Lori.

  Dad’s truck started and Ben hurried over to his bedroom window. He raised the shade and watched his father pull out of the drive. Dad always drove GranPat back to the rail station after each visit. Five seconds later a blue Toyota passed by the house in the same direction as his father. The driver looked familiar . . . the bald customer?

  Ben wished he’d gone back downstairs to see GranPat off. You don’t always get a chance to say goodbye. He’d missed his chance with Jack.

  Ben held his breath and listened. He heard the absence of Jack in the quiet of the house, once alive with Jack singing Coldplay’s “Paradise” over the top and out of tune. He saw the absence of Jack in the little piece of empty in Mom’s eyes, and tasted the lack of late night pizza from Nino’s where his brother had once worked. Ben felt the absence of Jack every time he walked past the closed bedroom door down the hall. Happiness and sadness were living things in the Fuller household. They ebbed and flowed like a tidal river, beating against and around the void. Sorrow and silence consumed the remembered joy.

  Ben often felt worse when he compared himself to his older brother. Jack was charismatic, smart, and the talented quarterback who made people notice. His brother once had a cute girlfriend, Charmaine, whose eyes smiled for Jack, but now seemed dull.

  Jack had been amazing. Ben was not. He loved Jack, but felt guilty if he blamed God, or even Jack, for what happened. In the end, he could only blame himself.

  Chapter 3

  Patrick McDugan road in John’s truck and checked his Timex watch. Grateful for the ride to the train station, he kept quiet and respected John’s silence. As the sky grew darker, Patrick gazed into the backlit picture windows of the homes they passed.

  He witnessed a fish bowl slice-of-life at twenty miles an hour. In three separate homes, he saw a couple hugging, a teenager at a computer, and an elderly woman staring back at him. Each lived lives they helped create for themselves. Whether they were happy, lonely, excited, depressed, or just tired from a long day at work, the center of their universe existed within their homes. May God bless them all.

  John slowed as a group of children zig-zagged across a lawn on their right. Bright fireflies winked in and out, as the kids ran to catch the insects in glass jars. “You don’t see much of that anymore.” The streetlight illuminated his face.

  Patrick nodded. “They’re havin’ fun without television, computer video games, or surfin’ social media.”

  John smirked. “That’s odd coming from a scientist who invents new tech.”

  Patrick shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder if technological advances will make us stronger as a people, or just keep us isolated and entertained. What do you think?”

  John shrugged. “Depends on how we use them. I’m a mechanic who needs new tools just to keep up with new cars. I have to use computerized tech for diagnostics and business transactions. Ben and I watch Star Trek re-runs together when we get a chance, and love all the sci-fi stuff they cook up to save their starship.”

  Patrick laughed. “Yea, me too. I’m sure we could come up with a tech savvy way to catch fireflies.” Still, he hoped his inventions would do more good than harm. Maybe he should retire from the DOD. I could use more time with me project and me new lab partner.

  Patrick had discovered Albert by chance, but the man was brilliant albeit unavailable of late. Did something happen? They were so close to a beta test, and had to keep everything secret. If the DOD found out about the specialized transceiver in his cellar lab, his plans would be ruined amidst the ensuing trouble and chaos. A mistake now could have dangerous consequences.

  He rubbed his forehead. Retiring from the DOD would also allow him more time to visit his family. Ben needs me.

  They arrived at the train station. The streetlights shone on the single story gray building that housed the ticket booth, a small coffee and gift shop, and an ATM. Three cars and a truck were in the parking lot. At this hour, he knew he’d find only a handful of fellow travelers waiting for the evening train.

  “Thanks for the ride, John,” Patrick said. “Dinner was great. Good seein’ you all. You’re all welcome to visit me anytime.”

  “Thanks. Good to see you too.” John shook Patrick’s hand. “After thinking about it, a week with you might help him decide if he really wants to be a scientist. Besides, there’s no better mentor than you.”

  “I’d love to see him more often. Could he spend a week or two with me? I know he’d be interested in me latest project.”

  “I’ll check with Patty and Ben,” John said.

  “Good. Let me know.” Patrick slid out of the truck and closed the door, but stood by the open window. “I’m also concerned about Patty. Could I visit more often? Maybe every other weekend?”

  “Sure. She’s been really stressed with work, her sore tooth, and . . . everything. You’re welcome anytime.”

  “Thanks.” He nodded to John, and enjoyed the cool night air as he walked toward the train platform.

  Ben lay in his bed and checked his phone. 8:47 pm. Where is Lori? Tired of being sad, he tried to think about anything else. He’d helped Dad today. That was good. Dinner was mostly good. He smiled when he pictured GranPat and Jack chasing down a T-Rex with laser rifles.

  A dusky light crept around his drawn window shades. In the quiet, he listened to a sequence of sounds: crunching footsteps on the gravel drive; Kipper barking downstairs; the doorbell; footsteps creaking on t
he wooden stair; and a light knock on his bedroom door.

  “Ben, are you in there?” Mom asked.

  He heard her quiet concern and let the silence stretch.

  “Ben, are you okay?”

  “Yea, just checking my text messages,” he said.

  “You have company downstairs.”

  He rolled out of bed and cracked open the door. “Lori?”

  His mother’s eyes glistened in the weak light and reflected a spark of his interest. Enough for her to raise an eyebrow. “She’s on the front porch swing. Sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Are you?” Her eyes looked away.

  “Once I see the dentist I’ll be better.”

  “Sure. Okay.” He frowned. “I’ll be down in a minute. Thanks.”

  Her head tilted slowly to the side. “You’re welcome. Brush your hair first.” She turned and walked down the hall. She paused at Jack’s door, squeezed the knob, but continued walking to her bedroom.

  Ben fixed his hair and rushed down the wooden steps. He tried not to “clomp.” That’s how his mother described his wild noisy descents. Ben always ran up or down stairs. Urgency didn’t drive him, but rather a habit from years of wrestling practice where he’d run the school stairs for exercise and weight loss. Tonight, he didn’t want either Mom, or Lori, to hear him clomp. Be cool.

  Kipper met him with her forelegs resting on the bottom step and rear wheels on the hardwood floor. Her mouth hung open.

  “Hey, Kips.” Ben rubbed her head. “We have company.”

  Kipper moved her front legs sideways, one over the other, to rotate her rear wheels. Her brown eyes shone excitement and her nose sniffed the air. Ben opened the front door and followed Kipper onto the front porch.

  Lori sat sideways on porch swing with her knees in the air.

  Ben grinned “Hi. Thanks for coming over.”

  “Hi, Benzo. Hey, Kips.” Lori smiled.

  Lori planted her feet on the porch deck and rocked the swing forward to rub Kipper’s ears with both hands. Kipper’s tongue lolled out to the left, as she accepted Lori’s attention. Ben willfully kept his tongue from doing the same.