Free Timepiece by Richard Paul Evans Page A

leaned back in exasperation. “There has been a great find of copper in the Oquirrh benches. There’s talk of a large open pit mine to rival the world’s largest. There are great opportunities. And we are missing them.”
    â€œYou are right.” David turned back around. “That is exactly what we are talking about. Lost opportunities. I can always make more money. But how shall I go about reclaiming a lost childhood? Theonly promise of childhood is that it will end.” He paused in reflection. “And when it is gone, it is gone.”
    Gibbs sighed in frustration. “I am only trying to protect our interests.”
    â€œAnd I am not making it very easy for you to do your job.” David walked over and put his hand on Gibbs’s shoulder. “I appreciate you, and I will not let my business fail. Nor will I let you or any of my employees down. But right now I feel that I have finally found life. To leave it would be death. Do your best, Gibbs. But, for now, do it without me.” His words trailed off in silence and Gibbs lowered his head in disappointment.
    â€œYes, David.” He rose and walked from the room.

    â€œIt would seem that my Andrea is growing so quickly, as if time were advancingat an unnatural pace. At times I wish it were within my power to reach forth my hand and stop the moment—but in this I err. To hold the note is to spoil the song.”
    David Parkin’s Diary. October 12, 1911
    Two months before Andrea’s third birthday, the cradle was taken up to the attic and an infant bed was brought in its place. The new bed was exciting to the small girl and represented freedom, which, to a child, is a poor requisite for sleep. David and MaryAnne found that it took more time to put her down each night.
    One night, David finished reading a second story to Andrea, then, thinking himself successful in lulling her to sleep, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
    â€œGood night,” he whispered.
    Andrea’s eyes popped open. “Papa. You know what?”
    David smiled in wonder at the child’s persistence. “What?”
    â€œThe trees are my friends.”
    David grinned at the sudden observation. “Really?” He pulled the sheet up under her chin. “How do you know this?”
    â€œThey waved to me . . .”
    David smiled.
    â€œ. . . and I waved back.”
    David’s smile broadened. He was astonished at the purity of the child’s thought. “Andrea, do you know why I love you so much?”
    â€œYes,” she replied.
    â€œWhy?” he asked, genuinely surprised that she had an explanation.
    â€œBecause I’m yours.”
    Strangely, Andrea’s reply inflicted him with a sharp pang of dread. He forced a smile. “And you are right. Good night, little one.”
    â€œGood night, Papa,” she replied sleepily and rolled over.
    David did not return to his bedroom but retreated to the seclusion of the drawing room to think. After an hour, MaryAnne, dressed in her nightclothes, came for him. She quietly peered in. David sat in a richly brocaded green-and-gold chair. Several books lay next to him, though none was open. His head was bowed, resting in the palm of one hand. MaryAnne entered.
    â€œDavid? Is business troubling you?”
    He raised his head.
    â€œNo.” His voice was laced with melancholy. “I have just been wondering.”
    MaryAnne came behind his chair and leaned over it, wrapping her arms around his neck.
    â€œWhat have you been wondering, my love?”
    â€œShall we ever tell her?”
    â€œTell her?”
    â€œThat I am not her real father.”
    MaryAnne frowned. She came aroundand sat on the upholstered footstool before him. “You are her real father.”
    He shook his head. “No, I’m not. And I feel dishonest, as if I were hiding something from her.”
    â€œDavid, it isn’t important.”
    â€œBut