The sun was up in the sky, but that was not making the decision any easier. The muscular man in the Army uniform took steady steps as he approached the white picket fence, his breaths coming quickly.
The bundle under his arm threatened to fall out of its protective wrapping. Why was it so heavy now?
A slightly rusty gate impeded his progress. He pushed it gently. The loud creak heralded his entry into the lawn; a softer moan announced the gate’s closure. His feet felt the grass through his shoes’ soles, the ground giving way underneath every footstep. He checked the bundle one last time, then stepped on the porch and rang the doorbell.
A slim housewife, rubbing her hands on a dish towel, opened the door. “Hey, Jeff, come on in.”
“Good morning, Eunice.” Jeff kicked the dirt off of his highly polished uniform shoes before stepping into the house. Warm smells of food greeted him as he entered the kitchen. “A little early to be cooking dinner, isn’t it?”
Eunice shrugged. “There’s a church potluck tonight. We need lots of food there, you know how that goes.”
Jeff nodded. “Say, is Kenny here, or is he playing with his friends?”
The woman jabbed an elbow toward the wall. “He’s in the den, watching TV.”
Jeff nodded, readjusting the package under his arm. Eunice finally noticed it. “Jeff, what have you got?”
He gave the woman a quizzical glance then looked down. “Oh, it’s nothing. I have to give this to Kenny, that’s all.”
Eunice tapped her shoe on the linoleum floor. “Now Jeff, you know …”
“I made my decision, I talked it over with everyone in the family.”
The woman sighed, returning to the work of peeling potatoes in the kitchen sink. “Well all right, if you insist.” She suddenly turned around and brandished her potato peeler at Jeff. “But so help me, if you take him away from me before the right time, I’ll find new and creative ways to hurt you.”
Jeff simply cleared his throat, his eyes giving the newly-purposeful woman a nervous expression. Just as suddenly, she cupped her hand around her mouth.
“Kenny, honey, your Uncle Jeff is here to see you.”
The sound of scampering feet made its way to the kitchen, until the source revealed himself in the doorway. The little boy rushed up to Jeff, laughing.
“Uncle Jeff! Uncle Jeff!”
Jeff could not help himself, and started laughing as well. “Kenny Sharpe, let me look at you …”
Jeff held the boy at arm’s length. Kenny was a lanky, slender boy, much like his mother. Dusty blond hair topped his head, its bowl cut making a floppy mess over his forehead. On this sunny summer day, he wore a striped shirt and dark blue shorts.
Jeff also noticed one thing out of place: the boy wore an oversized wristwatch, one Jeff recognized as having belonged to Kenny’s father.
“Have you grown another inch? You look almost tall enough to enlist.”
Kenny grinned. “You know I hafta wait for that!”
“Well, don’t stay outside for too long, or you’ll get picked up by the draft board.”
Eunice chuckled at that comment. “Why don’t you two strapping men go outside?”
Jeff smiled. “That’s a great idea. Come on, Kenny, I have something to show you.”
The boy quickly took his uncle’s hand, following the man out the door.
The back yard of the house had a tire swing, dangling from a lazy-leaning oak tree. Kenny quickly climbed into the tire and started rocking his legs, looking over at the man in the Army uniform.
“Kenny, do you remember your dad at all?”
Jeff’s question prompted a thoughtful expression on Kenny’s face. “A little bit. I remember his uniform, just like yours. I remember he drove me to school when I was in kindergarten. I have pictures of him.”
Jeff nodded. “Kenny, I have a secret to tell you. It’s a secret I shared with your father. You know what we do with secrets, right?”
Kenny nodded. “We don’t tell anybody. We keep them right here.” The boy patted his chest.
“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Listen, I have to give you something today. I don’t want you to show it to anybody, got it?”
The boy nodded. Jeff took a deep breath, steeling himself for the moment of revelation. He took the bundle out from under his arm and held it out to the boy.
“This used to be mine. It’s yours now.”
Kenny climbed down from the tire swing and approached the man. He took the bundle in his arms. “Can I open it?”
“You sure can, kid. Just be careful.”
The boy took his time. Kenny pulled gently at the tape holding the package shut, until it finally gave way. Setting the package down, because it was getting heavy, the boy carefully tore a seam down the center of the butcher paper.
A gasp suddenly came from the little boy as he finally saw his gift. Jeff smiled. The boy squatted down and lifted up his new prize: a long, very old looking sword. The sword was taller than Kenny himself was, and so heavy he needed two hands to hold it vertically in front of him. Sheathed in a hard leather scabbard, the blade was nearly as wide as both of Kenny’s hands put together. A flimsy looking belt was sewn to the scabbard, with a tarnished brass buckle. At the handle of the sword was a wide, exaggerated finger guard with a name inscribed into its gold surface: SHARPE.
The boy looked at his uncle in confusion. “This is mine?”
“Yes it is. Now Kenny, you can’t play with it right away, but eventually you will be able to use it much like I did in the war.”
“Do I hafta be in the Army to use it?”
Jeff chuckled. “No, you don’t actually have to be in the Army.” He crouched down next to the boy. “I want you to touch it, right here. Okay?”
Jeff pointed at the finger guard, at the center of where it had been engraved. Kenny obediently lifted his hand and placed two of his fingers on the A.
He was at the 48th Parallel, facing down enemy fire. Communist forces approached from all sides, but were knocked aside as quickly as they came.
He was on the beach at Normandy, blade swinging wildly. Nazis approached, but could not withstand the force of his attacks.
He was sprinting down the hillside at Manassas, the trumpets blaring behind him. Confederates left and right were cut down by the Sword and its bearer.
He was leaping across ship decks at Trafalgar. Admiral Nelson’s orders were almost lost in the din, but through the smoke he could see the French being knocked down.
Kenny staggered backward, collapsing as he released the Sword and let it fall. His breathing shallow, his face pale and coated with sweat, he looked up at Jeff.
“What happened?”
Jeff was quickly at the boy’s side, patting down his forehead with a handkerchief. “What did you see?”
Kenny looked up at him. “I saw … wars … fighting …”
Jeff nodded. “You saw the places where the Sword has been. You probably even saw some of what I did with it, didn’t you?”
Kenny shivered. “What do I do?”
“I’m sorry Kenny, but you’re now this Sword’s bearer. I will teach you everything you need to know about it, and when you need to use it, you will be ready. For right now, keep it in your bedroom, under your bed. Don’t touch it again, and whatever you do, don’t draw it from the sheath.”
Kenny nodded. “Okay.”
Jeff nodded, patting the boy on the head. “Good boy. For now, you just need to know one thing.” He crouched lower, so that his lips were at the boy’s ear level, and assumed a sotto voce voice. “There has always been, and will always be, a Guardsman.”