design, the pattern. Something has shifted and I don’t know what it is. I don’t know
what my Father has planned for Calliel, or why he is testing him like he is. I was not
being facetious when I said that Father likes his games. He does, as I am sure the
history of humanity could tell you. But he is not cruel, at least not intentionally. He
believes all beings should have to prove themselves. I don’t know why he’s picked
Cal. Or you.” He pauses. “Or your father, it would seem.”
Nausea rolls over me in waves. “I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I,” Michael admits as we resume our slow pace toward Little House.
“Fathers are mysterious creatures, are they not? We may not always understand their
motives, or even agree with the choices they make, but we love them just the same
for all that they are.”
“My father…,” I start but the lump in my throat stops me from finishing. “Was the greatest man in the world?” Michael says kindly. It’s like he can read
my thoughts. For all I know, he can.
I nod.
“Most sons think that. I could say the same about my own, but the comparison
isn’t fair for either of us. I do not know this Big Eddie, and you don’t know my
Father. Not in the way I do.”
“Does your father love you?” I ask.
Michael smiles. “Oh yes. I should think so.”
“Does he love Cal? And me?”
“Yes, child. He does.”
We reach Little House, and I can’t help but notice the way Michael reaches out
and strokes the wooden railing on the porch, a loving caress. This only fuels my
anger. It seems wrong for him to touch what my father made, though I don’t know
why.
“Then why must we suffer? Why does he hurt us every single day? Why did he
let Calliel fall and take his memories? Why is he allowing it to kill him while he
stays here? Why did he allow my father to die? Why does he have to take everything
I love if he’s supposed to love me?” My words are harsh by the end
Michael doesn’t flinch. “You can’t know,” he says quietly, “how much you truly