The Eye of the Stone (14 page)

“There again!” Jackson cut in as the twin notes sounded once more, clearer now, deep and rich. And Jackson knew—it was Tessa and Dedron, playing the Shaw-Mara. Their music filled him with sudden hope, like a March breeze that carried hints of spring. He walked to the edge of the landing and looked down the long flight of steps.

“I have to talk to Dad,” he said.

And just as quickly as he'd said it, he was imagining it: down the stairs, through the living room and the kitchen, then out the back door. To sit with his father and talk man to man about what had happened, about
why
it had happened. He needed an explanation. He needed to give one, too.

After all he'd been through, what would be so hard about that? He'd faced the Baen, recovered the Shaw-Mara, then thrown it to Dedron and Tessa. He'd done the right thing, at least partly making up for the harm he'd caused in the Vale.

“You're crazy, Jackson-boy!”

Becky's words cut into Jackson's fantasy like a knife. His shoulders slumped. A hollow pit formed in his stomach. And just how did he think he was going to pull this off? Wave a magic wand over his father and himself and make everything all right? Say a few words and erase the weakness of character, the sad longing in them both? Undo the resulting betrayal? The anger? The violence? The wrong? Sprinkle forgiveness and understanding all around like confetti?

A sharp, humorless laugh escaped him. While he was at it, why not just go ahead and open the lumber mill back up, too? Sure, jobs for everyone! And then they'd all live happily ever after, just like in a fairy tale!

Jackson shook his head.
Right.
If only life were even close to being that simple. The cold hard truth was that talking to his dad would be like walking out onto thin ice with lead boots on. At any instant what seemed solid could crack and give way, plunging them both into frigid black water.

A panicky thump started up in Jackson's chest. He looked back into his room. It would be so much easier just to go in there and shut the door. It would be so much easier to lock himself in and everything else out. It would be so much easier to pretend none of this had ever happened. After all, a person could
die
in icy water.

As if they were being played right there in the narrow hallway, the twin notes sounded once again. They resonated with such intensity that the air, the walls, everything, seemed to vibrate in harmony with them.

Even Jackson—first his fingers, then his hands, his arms, his entire body, especially in his chest—vibrated. He reached up and touched the spot where the stone pendant had once rested. Now beneath his shirt he felt only the thump of his heart, slowing from its panicky pace, growing steadier, stronger with each beat.

Not strong like the power of bulging arms or a broadsword or a magic pendant or a gun. It was a different kind of strength, hard to define, but swelling and rising in him just the same, filling him with something bigger than himself, bigger than anything he'd ever experienced. It was as if he were being filled with light. And it made him feel … maybe the word was
brave.
Not comic-book brave, like some kind of superhero. Not without fears. He had no illusions. But maybe brave enough to at least face those fears.

Jackson stood up straighter and looked back down the stairs. No, this wasn't how he was going to die. It certainly wasn't going to be easy, but this was how he was going to live.

“You can do it,” he whispered to himself. “You can.”

With a deep breath, he took the first step.…

Acknowledgments

I've told myself a
billion
times (almost) not to exaggerate, but it really does seem like it has taken me
forever
(almost) to finish this book. (I started it in 1988.)

It is truly
not
an exaggeration, however, to say that
lots
of people have helped me out along the way. What follows is a partial list, with sincere apologies to anyone whom, in the chaos of fifty-two rewrites—yes, fifty-two, really!—I may have left out:

Debbie, Kelsey, and Amy Birdseye; Jean Naggar; Regina Griffin; John and Kate Briggs; Margery Cuyler; Frances Kuffel; Ann Manheimer; Gary Hines; Anna Grossnickle Hines; Betsy Partridge; Martha Weston; Jane Yolen; Robert McKee; John Anderson; Kelly Monahan; Molly Switzer; John Otto; Susan Lowell; Ross Humphries; Jeremy Meyer; the Corvallis-Benton County Library; Anderson's Sporting Goods; the Oregon Department of Employment; and Juan and Amadeus.

About the Author

As a kid, Tom Birdseye was decidedly uninterested in writing—or any academic aspect of school, for that matter—never imagining that he would eventually become a published author. And yet, nineteen titles later—novels, picture books, and nonfiction—that is exactly what has happened. His work has been recognized for its excellence by the International Reading Association, Children's Book Council, National Council of Social Studies, Society of School Librarians International, Oregon Library Association, and Oregon Reading Association, among others. Combined, his books have either won or been finalists for state children's choice awards forty-three times. Life, it seems, is full of who'd-a-thought-its. He lives and writes in Corvallis, Oregon, but launches mountaineering expeditions to his beloved Cascades on a regular basis.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2000 by Tom Birdseye

Cover design by Connie Gabbert

ISBN: 978-1-4976-4590-5

This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

EBOOKS BY TOM BIRDSEYE

FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA