Read Echoes of a Distant Summer for Free Online

Dan waved his briefcase in Jackson’s direction. “Let’s schedule another time to discuss your details. Otherwise, we could be here till midnight listening to you. Call me tomorrow in the A.M. See the rest of you turkey-butts later.”
    Lincoln waved at Jackson and Pres, both of whom had remained seated. “I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning too, Jax. Call if you want to set up a talk.”
    “Wait a minute. I’m going to be out of town a couple of days,” Wesley said. “Are we still going shooting at the range on Saturday?”
    Dan pivoted and faced him. “Yeah, I need to get out to the range a few times before deer-hunting season opens. Make sure my sights are on target.”
    Jackson carped, “You and Lincoln still killing harmless animals?”
    Dan shrugged. “The meat fills the freezer and I don’t notice you turning it down when I barbecue.” He turned to Wesley. “Be at my house by eight-thirty on Saturday morning.”
    Lincoln chimed in, “I have to clean my rifles, but I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to hunting season.”
    “What about you, Jax? And you, Pres? You guys coming?” Wesley asked.
    “I’m really not into it, thanks,” Jackson answered without enthusiasm.
    “He spoke for me too,” Pres added.
    “Okay, but you guys are missing a lot of fun. We’re not killing anything at the range and shooting is close to ejaculation!” Wesley declaimed with a broad smile.
    Jackson acknowledged without sarcasm, “That’s high praise coming from you.”
    “I’m a straight shooter in both worlds,” Wesley replied with a laugh. He nodded to Jackson and Pres. “Well, I’m walking out with them. I’ll see you at the karate dojo on Thursday, Jax. Later, Pres.”
    The three men made their way out of the bar and into the night. Pres and Jackson sat for a moment in silence and finished their drinks. For the first time since he had entered the bar, Jackson noticed the music playing over the sound system. It was a slow, rocking blues number byB. B. King. Although he could not honestly say he was sad, the music seemed to match his mood perfectly. He felt something skirting his consciousness. He told himself that it was only a feeling, a malaise, a form of emotional fatigue. Names, faces, and events came swirling to the surface of his mind like debris in some muddy pool that had been disturbed. For several minutes he lost himself in the past, feeling the sun and the winds of his youth and the terrible, brooding presence of his grandfather.
    Pres brought him back with “Want another drink?”
    Still within the well of his thoughts Jackson gave a shake of his head. He had made a conscious choice to walk away from all that his grandfather stood for prior to his freshman year in college and he had been successful. Except in the nocturnal world of dreams, he did not even acknowledge the old man’s existence. However, the phone call had opened the vault and now the old memories came crowding into the forefront of his awareness.
    Pres pushed his long, straight black hair out of his eyes. “You really are preoccupied. We’ve been here nearly ten minutes and you haven’t said a thing to me. What am I? Performance art?”
    “If you are, you aren’t subtle,” Jackson answered mildly. After a moment’s pause, he said, “I’ll tell you something.” He leaned forward over the table and dropped his voice. “Since I received my grandmother’s call, I feel like I’m moving out of step with the world around me. Everything seems unstable. I feel life as I know it is about to fall apart. The warp and weave of my life is on the verge of shredding, like there’s a rip in the social fabric somewhere.” A trickle of sweat dripped down Jackson’s face.
    Pres stared at him a moment then asked, “Are you sure you’re not feeling all this because of the stress at work? You are serious, right? You’re not putting me on?”
    “I’m dead serious. This is no joke.”
    Pres nodded his head. “Well, in a way