Beneath Wandering Stars Read Online Free Page B

back-to-back deployments, it’s been years since we went on one of our trio treks.
    “What does that have to do with anything?” I snap, wondering if I’ll ever walk a trail or climb a mountain with Lucas again.
    “Let me backtrack. In Afghanistan, most guys spent their R&R time playing video games or surfing the Internet, but not Lucas. Never Lucas.” Seth actually has the nerve to grin. “The guy read so many books that the rest of our battalion called him the Philosopher.”
    A bittersweet smile starts to curl my lips, but I bite it down. “That’s why Mom sent Lucas an e-reader for his birthday. Less cargo to lug around the mountains.”
    “He definitely made use of it.” Seth swallows hard. “Anyway, after we experienced our first firefight over there, Lucas started withdrawing from the rest of us. A lot of the time he wouldn’t even talk to me. He started making lists of all these places he wanted to see when he came to visit you guys in Europe. Places like Rome, northern England, some remote island in Scotland, the Holocaust memorial at Dachau. He called these sacred places. Holy ground.”
    I don’t see how these random dots connect, but time has become a marked-down commodity on clearance. “Get to the point, Russo. What does this have to do with Lucas’s letter?”
    Sending a scowl in my direction, Seth holds up the crinkled document. “Lucas wants you to revive your old tradition by taking another trek. He wants you to do a pilgrimage. He claims people have made journeys like this on behalf of absent soldiers, the sick, and the recently deceased for thousands of years.”
    “That makes no sense. Lucas isn’t exactly devout.” I wince, realizing this admission must feel like a dagger in my dad’s pious little heart. “I mean, why would he want us to do something so . . . strange?”
    “I don’t think his request has much to do with religion, though a lot of guys start asking questions when they’re staring death in the face on a regular basis.” Seth points to the only window in the dismal waiting room. “Most people walking around out there, they don’t even realize they’re mortal. That this could all be over in an instant.”
    Dad keeps his eyes glued to the sheen of the linoleum floor, bobbing his head like they’re in on some sacred soldier truth. Seth falls silent, but keeps staring out the window, like he’s waiting for someone to return. Right when the ticking wall clock is about to make me lose my mind, he releases a deep exhale. “Lucas wanted you to walk a very specific route, mainly because it’s your namesake.”
    Dad’s head snaps up. “You mean the
Camino de Santiago
?”
    I recognize the name, too. The Spanish city of Santiago is at the top of Dad’s European travel bucket list. Apparently it’s where his ancestors came from before they set sail for Mexico a long, long time ago, and I guess he feels the need to touch the soil. Or something.
    “That’s the one.” Seth’s eyes bore into mine, the gleam of his gaze somewhere between mockery and anticipation. “There’s one condition, though.”
    Doesn’t matter. No matter what Lucas’s stipulation is—even if it’s something ridiculous like making the journey in the nude or on the back of an albino camel—I’ll figure out a way to do it.
    I promise, Lucas.
    I may not understand this whole pilgrimage thing, but I’m banking on the hope that wherever my brother resides in his unconscious state, he’ll see that we’re honoring his request and maybe, just maybe, come back. Come home.
    “And what condition is that?” I ask, my eyes locked on Dad.
    I don’t need to see Seth’s face because the hint of triumph is evident in his voice. And I honestly, unabashedly, hate him for it. I hate him for once again making me feel like the tagalong afterthought of an all-boy soldier club I can never fully be a part of, even if I followed family tradition and enlisted in the Army myself.
    “In his letter, Lucas wrote