Vanish by Tom Pawlik

Author:Tom Pawlik
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Suspense & Thrillers
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers
Published: 2008-06-30T18:30:00+00:00

30

Conner’s eyes snapped open.

He was no longer on the swing. Or the porch. Or in Thorton, Indiana, for that matter. He was . . .

He was home.

Not his condo. That had never really felt like home in the two years he had lived there. No, this was their home in Lake Forest. The home he and Marta had purchased together. His chest ached. It was the home he had grown to despise of late. And the home he had come to miss even more.

He was standing in the breakfast nook. Sunlight poured in through the bay window. Papers were strewn across the table. The sun was so bright.

And noise. He could hear noises echoing through the rooms. Layer upon layer of sound. He strained to listen and immediately discovered he knew these sounds. He had heard them before. Laughter and weeping and bedtime stories and arguments and lovemaking and singing. The sounds of life. All happening at once. All together. All still a gentle cacophony.

Music. Marta loved music. Amid the collage of sounds, Conner could hear her familiar voice. Sweet and soft. Singing to herself as she cooked. She used to fill the whole house with her singing. It was soothing in a way, and he remembered he had forgotten how much he loved her voice.

And there was Rachel’s laughter. Conner grinned at her jittery giggles flowing through the hallway. She would laugh like that when he’d tickle her on the backs of her legs. He could hear seven years of piano lessons. “Chopsticks” and Chopin. Beethoven and “The Entertainer.” He spread his arms and closed his eyes and let it flow over him and through him.

Then came a tiny Tarzan yell.

Conner’s eyes snapped open again. His lips moved. Matthew?

Tarzan. Spider-Man. Batman. All rolled into one. Swinging on the tree rope, flopping on the trampoline, jumping on the sofa. Bouncing basketballs and kicking soccer balls through the house. And always, always making noise. Conner’s eyes stung. Matthew played with such gusto.

Watch this, Daddy!

Look what I can do!

Didja see that?

Didja see me?

And then . . .

Then the sounds slowly faded. Conner strained to keep them. He spun in the room, reaching out as if to gather them back. “Please!” he pleaded. “Don’t go! Not yet . . .”

He missed it. He missed all of it and he longed now more than anything to have it back. If just for a minute.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The sound came again. A singular beating. A ball, bouncing down the steps. Followed by footsteps pounding in the upstairs hall. Now down the stairs.

Conner rushed into the front hallway. A soccer ball rolled past and a tousled form tumbled after, laughing. Into Conner’s front room office they went, the ball and the boy. Conner was forever shooing Matthew out. He hurried down the hall to the doorway. He would catch him at last. He would finally catch him. And maybe then find the answer.

Conner looked into the room. Matthew’s back was toward him, the ball tucked under his arm.

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