The Decks and the Road
book 1- Freeborn
Chapter 26
Nathan- Six years before my father passed
away he handed me twenty-six cards. We
were just sitting on the front porch. It
was one of his favorite places to sit. Sometimes
I’d sit on the wall in front of his chair, and we’d chat. That day I was sitting beside him. Perhaps I knew there was something he needed
to give me. I suppose it was the moment
he knew that he was passing the shop on to me, but he never made it clear. He never really talked about the shop like he
did the family name, and the cards were all about names. He called it The Shepherd’s Deck. They were hand-written and laminated. His exact words when he passed the deck on to
me were, “Anything you want to know about what connections to make is in this
deck. I haven’t used it in
twenty-years. I used to need to
reference them, but I know it like the back of my hand now.” I knew my father was a bit of a well, but I
never understood the cards. It didn’t
seem like life was meant to be so studied.
Yet, I was fascinated by the details, and all the notes he'd made. Some of them had maps drawn on them with
arrows that pointed to names, and some names had downward arrows that led to
more names. Some of the name streams
could go on for many columns and cards.
Some names had arrows that pointed downward and upward. Some of the names I recognized, and others I’d
never seen or heard of. The first night
after I became the owner of the deck, I lay awake for hours investigating and
trying to make sense of it all. I never
thought to ask my dad to teach me the meaning of it all, and he never brought
it up again. I’d bought a small wooden box
for the cards, and I kept it in one of the desk draws at the shop. I hadn’t seen them since my father had died,
and I’d never felt I needed them before now.
I pulled them from the box, and began to study them like I did all those
years ago. This time I registered more
than just names. There were cards that
gave personal accounts of connections that my father had made; groups of people
he’d met and their reliable characteristics.
There were two cards that were titled “warning”, and he’d traced over
the word several times making it bold and alarming. On the back of both cards were a list of names,
and some of them were accompanied by pathways; patterns of movement that
included countries, states, and towns that contributed to certain behaviors and
thought patterns. I held the cards that
were little pieces of my father’s story.
He’d shared a lot, but he hadn’t shared these stories; the stories that had
led to these conclusions.
When I’d met Erilyn, I hadn’t thought
about the cards. Even when my father
strongly opposed us being together, I never considered them, but now that I’d
been thinking about marrying her, I wanted to know what his findings were. I went through them one by one, checking both
sides, searching for the name Felix. I’d
started with the two warning cards, and I was relieved to know that he hadn’t
listed it there. His print was small,
and some of the cards were over-crowded with notes. I looked closely. I checked every card twice, but nothing. I already had his thoughts, but I was hoping
for his conclusions, or maybe I wanted more reason to obey the warnings he’d
already given. But I was left with just what I already knew. I returned the deck to its place, and thought
about all the things I did know. I looked
at everything that should have torn us apart, but didn’t. I thought about the length of time we’d been
together, and how we’d made it back from what felt like hell. I thought mostly about her question, and I
questioned whether my answer was an acceptable one. I considered how much happier she seemed in
recent weeks, and I wondered how long it would last. I wondered if there was anything I could do
to keep us going, and it had brought me here.
I’d already bought the ring. I’d
already made up my mind. At least I
thought I had; until I remembered the cards.
Not finding the name Felix should have been a signal to move forward,
but I was unable to move. My fear of
failure kept me stationary. It wasn’t
the fear of being wrong that troubled me; that I knew how to dress up—no—it was
failure that could not be hidden. It was
failure that I despised.
Freeborn, a novel
Freeborn
© Grace Call Communications,
LLC
Copyright © 2017
by Natisha Renee Williams
All Rights Reserved
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