Twilight of the Dawn by Dean Koontz

Author:Dean Koontz [Koontz, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-07-30T04:40:14+00:00

she was kind to so many people, those people were shaped to some small degree

by her kindness. They'll now and then remember her, and because of her they

might be kinder to people, and that kindness goes on and on." He listened

solemnly, although I suspected that the concepts of immortality through

bloodline and impersonal immortality through one's moral relationships with

other people were beyond his grasp. I tried to think of a way to restate it so

a child could understand. But he said, "Nope. Not good enough. It's nice

that lots of people are gonna remember her. But it's not good enough. She has

to be somewhere. Not just her memory. She has to go on. So if it's all right

with you, I'm gonna figure she's in Heaven." "No, it's not all right, Benny." I put my arm around him. "The healthy thing to do, son, is to face up to unpleasant truths-" He shook his head. "She's all right, Daddy. She didn't just end. She's somewhere now. I know she is. And she's happy."

"Benny-" He stood, peered up into the trees, and said, "We'll have cherries to eat soon?" "Benny, let's not change the subject. We-" "Can we drive into town for lunch at Mrs. Fosters restaurant - burgers and fries and Cokes

and then a cherry sundae?" "Benny-" "Can we, can we?" "All right.

But-" "I get to drive!" he shouted and ran off toward the garage, giggling at his joke. * * * During the

next year, Benny's stubborn refusal to let his mother go was at first

frustrating, then annoying, and finally intensely aggravating. He talked to

her nearly every night as he lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come, and he

seemed confident that she could hear him. Often, after I tucked him in and

kissed him good night and left the room, he slipped out from under the covers,

knelt beside the bed, and prayed that his mother was happy and safe where she

had gone. Twice I accidentally heard him. On other occasions I stood

quietly in the hall after leaving his room, and when he thought I had gone

downstairs, he humbled himself before God, although he could know nothing more

of God than what he had illicitly learned from television shows or other pop

culture that I had been unable to monitor. I was determined to wait him

out, certain that his childish faith would expire naturally when he realized

that God would never answer him. As the days passed without a miraculous sign

assuring him that his mother's soul had survived death, Benny would begin to

understand that all he had been taught about religion was true, and he

eventually would return quietly to the realm of reason where I had made - and

was patiently saving - a place for him. I did not want to tell him that I knew

of his praying, did not want to force the issue, because I knew that in

reaction to a too heavy-handed exercise of parental authority, he might cling

even longer to his irrational dream of life everlasting. But after four

months, when his nightly conversations with

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