Heirlooms

The Pendant He walked with slow and measured steps, crossed the manicured lawn and flowerbeds surrounding the family estate, and headed toward the forest that had beckoned him again as it had so many times in the past. He was a tall, youngish man, but because of the increasing darkness those were the only discernible features a casual onlooker would detect in him. When he reached the edge of the forest and advanced forward, he lowered his head and kept his gaze on the ground before him. If one were able to look into his brown eyes, he would detect that they were carefully scrutinizing every step he was now taking and would conclude, perhaps, that his foray into those woods was done with some purpose in mind. The way he walked would further indicate that he knew the direction he was taking and the destination toward which he was heading. His observer would not be able to discern, however, that he was searching for something important, something elusive yet attainable, with the same tenacity that shadows exhibit when they search for sunlight so that they might be awakened by it. Once deeper inside the forest, his steps became more deliberate as he ventured into the darkness before him. He kept his head lowered, and his eyes did not leave the ground as he continued on an invisible trail, one that only he could detect if not altogether see. He was not searching the ground for that expensive ring he had lost there many years ago, nor for that treasured pocket knife his father had given him on his fifteenth birthday which he had also misplaced long ago. No, this time he was looking for something much more insubstantial than his former possessions, something as evanescent as the swirls of fog encircling his frame as he continued on his slow but steady pace. He was searching for the truth about several things, but mostly about himself. He was looking for the destiny in him. But he was probably still much too young to suspect that for people with a destiny things don’t always turn out well. Earlier, as he sat alone and had his dinner before setting out on his journey, the brief twilight was quickly replaced by darkness on that October 24th, an otherwise ordinary Saturday for most people but for Adrian Hathaway a special one. Today was his birthday, admittedly not a momentous occasion by anyone’s standards but for him a date he had been waiting for—and somewhat dreaded. Today, as he began his twenty-fifth year of life, he would learn what the fates had in store for him; Aunt Cassie would reveal it to him on this very evening, as she had promised she would. So shortly after dinner, he set out. He did not bring along a flashlight to help him find his way through those dark woods. He would not need it; he had made the journey many times before, beginning with his seventh birthday when his mother first guided him on a trail only she could recognize even during the darkest nights. Since her death eight years later, he had made that same journey every year on his birthday; now, he was making it again. Suddenly, he stopped and remained still for two to three seconds. He thought he had heard a noise coming from behind him and wondered, not without a small dose of apprehension, who might be following him in the forest at that hour. But when he turned and looked back, he saw that it was only Lukas, his ten-year-old Lhasa Apso, who apparently had decided to follow him on that night. Lukas was a bow-legged, rheumy-eyed old dog, whose nose nearly always touched the ground and whose large ears looked like some spare parts he had not ordered but was forced to dangle from his head and scrape the dirt with them whenever he walked. He followed his master sometimes, but did so more out of boredom than out of any genuine canine attachment to his caregiver.