Read Online The Gate by Dann A. Stouten - Free Book Online

and as we walked over to an old pump in the corner of the barn, Joshmotioned to a row of cups on the wall. I found my name neatly lettered on one.
    â€œGrab mine too, will ya?” Josh asked. And I did. We took turns pumping and drinking, and the lumber list fell out of his pocket and onto the dirt floor. As he picked it up I couldn’t help but notice what it said at the top of the list.
    â€œExcuse me, Josh,” I said kind of sheepishly. “But I think that piece of paper in your pocket has my last name on it.”
    â€œYou’re right,” Josh replied. “It does. Does that surprise you? But you’re not the only Hunt in the world, you know. Besides, I’ve always been very clear about this. When I left, I said that I was going to prepare a place for you. At the time, of course, the ‘you’ was plural, but for anyone who answers when I knock on the door of their heart, it becomes singular, a personal promise between us. And I always make good on my promises.”
    â€œYou’re not planning on making good on that promise to me anytime soon, are you?”
    â€œIt’s always sooner than anyone thinks,” he said. “But not now, not today, anyway. That day will come when you least expect it, like a thief in the night.”
    Thinking about one’s own demise is always sobering, and as I sat and contemplated the gravity of his words, I thought how my death might impact the people I loved the most. I wanted to ask for more time, because they’re not ready yet. To be honest, I’m not ready yet, and that’s when I saw it: half buried in the sawdust was a little blue baseball cap with the name “Ben” stitched above the bill.
    â€œThat’s Ben’s hat!” I said excitedly.
    â€œYou’re right,” Josh replied. “He lost it the summer he was seven when the two of you walked up here looking for pirate treasure.”
    Memories came flooding back. One cloudy day in July, we packed a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and went exploring. Ben loved adventure, and he and I would often take a hike just to see what we could see. That day he wanted to pretend we werepirates looking for lost gold. When we found that abandoned sawmill, it became our pirate ship for the afternoon.
    We climbed up into the loft, swung on a rope that hung from the rafters, and made swords out of some one-bys. I was chasing Ben around, and as he tried to scamper up the ladder, he slipped and fell into the pile of sawdust. It knocked the wind out of him, and for a minute I thought he was really hurt bad. I was relieved when he caught his breath and started crying, but when I walked him back home my mother wasn’t very happy with me.
    â€œWhere have you boys been?” she asked. “And why is Ben crying?”
    Ben told her how he fell off a ladder in an old sawmill, and then she was all over me.
    â€œYou’re supposed to be keeping an eye on him, Sky,” she said in a reprimanding tone. “What were you doing in a sawmill? Ben could have been killed or something. I swear, sometimes I wonder what you’re thinking. If you can’t keep out of trouble, then maybe you boys better stick around the cottage.”
    That afternoon we had to stay inside and play Monopoly with my sister, which to two adventurous boys was just a waste of good daylight.
    That night I said to Ben, “If you want to hang with the big boys, there’s going to be no crying! Do you understand?”
    He nodded that he did, and as far as I knew, Ben never cried again.
    Then it hit me. Here I was spending the day with Jesus, and I was lost on a trip down memory lane. What was I thinking? I was about to apologize to him like I do sometimes when my mind starts wandering while I’m praying, but he spoke before I could.
    â€œWe worked right through lunch. I don’t know what I was thinking! I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you. I better get you back