To Everything, Turn, Turn, Turn

                                            By Jeff Baker

            “So, how long has your brother been missing?” she asked.

            He grinned for a moment, it almost sounded like an old radio show.

            “About six months now,” he said.

            “Any word from the police?” she asked.

            “Not yet,” he said. “You ask me, he just bailed on everything. His job, his girlfriend. And I almost don’t blame him.”

            They’d been walking around after getting out of class. Usually they stopped and grabbed a burger or something, but this afternoon they just walked.  

            “My Grandmother used to say that everything happens for a reason,” she said. “And that there’s a natural order to things.”

            “To everything there is a season,” he said. “That’s in the Bible. I heard it out of a jukebox once.” He stopped and faced her.

            “What’s wrong?” she said.

            “I need to tell you something,” he said. “About a month ago I got a letter from my Brother. He’s alive. He’s okay.”

            “A letter? Are you sure he’s okay?” she asked.  “That he wasn’t kidnapped or something?”

            “The letter was in this, this code we developed when we were a kid. Pretending to be the Hardy Boys or something.” He grinned. “That way we could pass notes in school and nobody knew what we were saying. So nobody else could read what he was saying if he was being coerced or something. Well, he’s okay. He ran off with this girl he’s known for years. She’s living in this little town and he’s working for her. He just wanted to get away.”

            He smiled and took her hand. He was glad he told her. And in that moment, he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.    

                                                     —end—