Jonathan M. Lee

Dead Reckoning , The Story of Théogène Chapman Part I :  Chapter 6   The kitchen was the heart of the house, a space that defied the bitter chill outside with a relentless, humid warmth. It was a sensory overload that began the moment Theo stepped through the threshold. The air was a heavy, intoxicating slurry of dark-roasted coffee, woodsmoke, and the deep, earthy base of a roux that had been stirred for hours until it reached the color of an old penny. He stepped out of the biting wind, and for a moment, the transition nearly blinded him. The living room was dominated by a tall, fragrant cedar tree brought in from the edge of the property. It wasn’t the manicured, store-bought pines of the city; it was wild, asymmetrical, and deeply green. It was decorated with strings of popcorn threaded by hand, dried orange slices that caught the firelight like stained glass, and fragile, hand-painted glass ornaments that had survived three generations of chaotic holidays. Beneath th...

Dead Reckoning , The Story of Théogène Chapman Part I :  Chapter 1   The boat that would carry Théogène Chapman across the Atlantic was beginning to rot in Louisiana mud when he found her. She sat sinking into the mud of a Morgan City boatyard, abandoned to the blistering humidity and the slow indignity of neglect. Hemmed in by creosote pilings and the smell of dead fish, her once-white hull had faded to the color of old bone. The mast still stood, though only by what appeared to be stubbornness and habit. Theo stopped walking. A minute earlier, he had been thinking about what he would eat for dinner. Now he was staring at a sailboat. “You interested?” The voice came from somewhere behind him. Theo turned and found an old man sitting beneath the shade of a cypress tree. He wore a stained straw hat and held a cane across his lap. “In that?” Theo asked. The old man glanced at the boat. “Depends.” “On what?” “Whether you’ve got imagination or not.” The sensible answer was no...