Mikalo's Fate (The Mikalo Chronicles) by Syndra K. Shaw Page A

dangling down precariously, or missing entirely. And from what I could see, the interior had given way to rain and wind, vines snaking along the walls, grass growing up through the weathered, worn boards covering the floor.
    Hand and hand, we continued around the back.
    A small garden waited, overrun with vines and grass, the precarious edge of a steep cliff lurking just beyond its border. But you could tell it was a garden. Or could easily be a garden, the familiar square shape already mapped out with low, flat stones, easy for the eye to see.
    Mikalo turned his head and looked out to the bluer than blue sea.
    "This was the dream my father would not allow me," he began. "The dream I shared. That he said no to. That he killed."
    He turned to me.
    "Do you remember me telling you this?"
    I nodded.
    "I remember you mentioning you had a dream," I said carefully. "I didn't know what the dream was."
    "Now you do," he said with a small, heartbreaking smile.
    His eyes returned to the crumbling hovel.
    "When I was a boy I would run up here to hide," he continued. "Pretend my only chore was to grow in the garden and tend the sheep or the goats there, in the back. Spend my days looking at the sea, breathing in the air, and not have this thing, this Delis Family Business, to return to.
    "It was a quiet thought," he then said. "I didn't want much.
    "This," he insisted, his head nodding toward the small house. "This is what I wanted. A life of simplicity. Of the air from the sea, the heat of the sun, the warmth of the rocks.
    "But, no, it was not to be," he finished, his eyes looking toward the sea again.
    I waited, listening, hearing his sadness, his disappointment. The ache of dead and dying dreams in his voice.
    And then it hit me.
    "This is yours now, Mikalo," I said, suddenly aware of the enormity of this for him. "This island, this road, this house, here, it's yours. You can live your dream. At least sometimes, right?"
    The thought of coming here and having a home to go to, one that wasn't part of the Delis family compound, was suddenly very appealing.
    And then I looked at the garden, the edge of the cliff, the sea beyond, my mind racing with the possibilities.
    I left his side, glancing in the window.
    Two rooms, the boards warped from rain and wind, the ceiling above splintered and broken. Nothing that couldn't be fixed.
    "Yes," I called out over my shoulder as I continue to peer in. "We can do this."
    "No."
    I turned to find him shaking his head.
    "It's not that much work, really," I said. "I'm sure we could find someone --"
    "No," he repeated.
    He was resolute.
    "Why?" I asked. Frankly, it was the only thing I could think of to say.
    Crooking his finger, he motioned for me to follow him.
    We walked around to the front, the Jeep in the distance over the swaying blade of tall yellow grass, and to the front door.
    He opened his hands to it. Like he was saying "Look, this is why".
    I had no idea what he was talking about.
    All I saw was a damaged, splintering door hanging off its hinges. I still had no idea what he was talking about.
    I told him so.
    With an exasperated sigh, he began.
    "It needs a key. A key we do not have. Without a key, you do not own something. It is not yours. No key, and it will never be my home. Our home."
    I was beyond confused. This was basically his island. This house was abandoned. He owned this house. I could poke the door with my finger and it would fall in. We hardly needed a key to open it.
    "Mikalo," I said, keeping my confusion in check. "This house is on your island --"
    "Yes, but it is not mine. It holds a special place in my family's heart."
    He turned from me, his eyes avoiding mine.
    "A place I no little about and can not discuss."
    I was beginning to see. Or maybe not.
    Regardless, he wasn't budging on this.
    With a knowing sigh, he took one last look and then turned, wandering through the tall grass towards the Jeep, leaving me to wonder what I could do to make this, this most special dream,