Book of Joshua   Present Day♁

Hork Estate, Colorado Springs, CO, USA

The Denver press circuit consumed the rest of William’s day: his morning spotlight on First Light, phone interviews with journals, cable news clashes, a podcast, then capping with Evening News. He radiated in the glare, proud of Regeneration’s unveiling. Criticism brushed him like a breeze—he addressed concerns, yet stood unapologetic.

William was one of a kind: athletic, commanding, strikingly handsome even as middle age deepened. Salt-and-pepper hair and graying beard only heightened his presence, charisma flowing effortlessly. He charmed, shifting seamlessly from the geopolitical climate of Iran to baseball scores, sealing with a booming joke—a  talent treasured at cocktail parties or international peace keeping summits. Between scaling peaks and piloting prototypes for pleasure, he wielded one of history’s greatest minds, his legacy and contribution destined beside Aristotle, da Vinci, Einstein.

Yet William remained a man of the people, and they loved him for it. Power was seldom abused, he moved with kindness and respect at his core—honor, virtue, compassion bridging divides. His generous fortune fueled charities and he never missed an opportunity to sponsor a celebration; in his presence, need vanished. Dislike of William Hork was rare, usually stemming from ones own envy.

Residing in Colorado Springs, the modest city suited his temperament: breathtaking mountain beauty, endless sun, and enough military installations to support his empire of contracts. At the edge of NORAD and in the shadow of Pikes Peak, he settled into prominence with his wife, Pom.

Sun kissing mountaintops, William drove home from Denver. Shadows stretched the city; an orange glow marked the horizon and the sky bled purple and blue. He pushed south on I-25, the hour-and-a-half drive providing time for reflection and phone calls.

“Call Pom,” he commanded while pressing a button on the wheel.

“Dialing Pom.”

The bellow of rings ended with her voice. “Hey, honey. All done?”

“Peacock. Yes, finally. Heading home.”

“Saw you on Fox and CBS—you were fantastic!” Pom gave genuine warmth. “How’d it go off-camera?”

“Fine mostly. A podcast trolling for clicks and a TV exec needed straightening, but it’s handled.”

“I’m sure it is!” She laughed. “Home soon?”

“Just past Castle Rock. Have you eaten?”

“Munched a bit—I was hoping for a celebratory dinner?”

“Sounds perfect. Need me to pick anything up?”

“Nope. I went to the store earlier.”

“Good. Home in an hour—we’ll catch up.”

“Drive safe. Love you.”

“Love you, Peacock.”

As soon as William ended the call, he prompted the wheel once more. “Call Ana.”

The rings resonated in his scowl then broke with Ana’s welcome. “Billy, my dear!”

The nickname always caught him—it was rare and cherished. “Ana, how are you?”

“Not as good as you, or so the news would suggest. I see your research is progressing nicely.”

“Please.” He scoffed. There were no secrets with Ana. “Just feeding the public to keep the funding.”

“Always onward. Oh, Billy… Getting close, aren’t you?”

“Naturally.” He shifted, refusing to tempt fate. “How are the girls?”

She cackled. “Guessing Pom’s out of earshot?”

He smirked.

“Good…” her tone softened. “They miss their father.”

“Keeping busy? Dedicated to their work?”

“Of course.” She now cut with a cold edge. “Picked that up from you.”

“Ana…” She refused to rescue him from the fading sigh. “You know Pom—there was no other way.”

“I know. Shame, though. You missed out.”

“How’s Cloe?”

“Same old story, heartbroken. Still more tears than stitches.”

“Andi still in hiding? They both still resent each other, I assume?”

“Sisters…” Another long pause filled the line. “With Seren always caught between.” She wouldn’t allow William to forget about their middle child.

“When will Andi let it go?”

“When she finds a love of her own, I suppose.”

“Good luck to that man!” William eased with a light laugh. “Always hope she’s not bringing work home with her!”

“You shouldn’t sound so amused, William. She’s your daughter—plus Cloe’s no innocent.”

“All that girl ever did was love—and she was punished the dearest for it.”

“I don’t remember you running to her side. You sat quiet beside Pom at her sentencing.”

“You knew the outcome—as did I.”

“And we wouldn’t have it any other way, now would we, Billy?”

Silence stretched until the memory faded.

“So, Dr. Hork—you rarely call just for a chat?”

William’s silence continued to linger. ”Reassurance, perhaps.” His humility was rare.

“The almighty William Hork seeking guidance?” Ana’s laugh cackled. “The course was set before your birth. Enlightenment ahead. It’s time to fulfill your destiny.”

Riddles. She always offered him riddles. Yet this time they gave comfort. “That simple, huh?”

“What more could you need?”

He pondered—the nudge was enough. Anything more risked sabotage.

“Nothing, I suppose.”

“Good. Now cheer up. All smiles for Pom’s celebratory dinner.”

William glared through the windshield—her prying irked him and he tortured her right back.

“Oh—one thing. Will Pom be performing wifely duties this evening?”

“Good night, William.” Ana spat with disgust.

“Excellent! In that little Milan outfit?”

“Don’t anger me, Hork.”

William surrendered with a laugh. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I know you will. Stay the course.”

☊

As his car climbed the winding switchbacks toward home, William drank the city lights of Colorado Springs twinkling below. Crisp mountain air flooded the open windows, carrying a familiar peace that never grew tired—whether born of solitude or the quiet symbolism of rising above earthly turmoil, it always settled over him like a gentle cloak as the estate drew near.

The final turn revealed the road’s end: massive wrought-iron gates parting slowly for his approach. He stepped out briefly to check the mail—a futile ritual, true matters arrived by messenger or pushed through digital ether—he then continued up the long driveway, circling the majestic courtyard. His gaze lingered in quiet adoration of the towering stone statues, each bathed in soft landscape lighting that breathed nocturnal life into their ancient forms. Shadows stretched toward the central fountain, where fine mist rose cool and shimmering into the night.

“Pom!” he called upon entering, voice echoing across Pentelic marble. “Peacock, I’m home…”

“In the kitchen!” her reply drifted from deeper within the temple.

Briefcase tossed aside, he followed the enticing aroma through the home, drawing him closer as Pom’s feast filled his senses.

“What magic have you been conjuring?” he murmured, voice slow with anticipation. “It smells incredible.”

Rounding the corner to the kitchen, he found her at the stove, adding final flourishes. He slipped behind, wrapping strong arms around her in a playful embrace. Surprised delight evoked an arched back and she rose to tiptoes, lips brushing his neck in soft greeting.

“Hellooo…” she whispered, warmth lingering.

In one fluid motion he twirled her to face him. “This looks unbelievable.”

Still holding her close, he reached past to steal a sautéed vegetable.

“Hands off!” She twisted, frisky slap missing. “Almost ready.”

He popped the hot zucchini anyway, eyes lighting at the grill’s sizzle. “Steak?”

“Only the best for my famous scientist.” Her giggle fed his joy.

“You spoil me. Need help?”

“Wine?”

“That I can manage.”

Pouring their favored Greek vintage, he lost himself watching her move—ageless grace, deep chestnut hair cascading over a bare back, ochre skin glowing with every elegant turn, and jewelry catching light like stars. She wasn’t the fairest he’d known, yet near enough: a goddess in truth, and the fury to go along with it if ever scorned.

“Breathtaking, Peacock,” he said as glasses filled.

“You say that to all your admirers.” Blush rose in her cheeks—she still cherished his gaze. “Any other stunning discoveries today?”

“Only you.” Sarah went wisely unspoken.

Her pause pierced; eyes searching him deep. “Good.”

He shook his head in offense—restraint in the green room proof of growth; his earlier selves less disciplined.

“Don’t pretend innocence…”

He gave way—her scrutiny stung fair, earning eternal questions for past wounds.

“Shall we eat?” Her smile extinguished tension, the stove burner along with it.

They settled at the cozy breakfast table, dim glow framing a vast bay window that overlooked the city below. The house had been kept quiet with empty nests, formal dining renounced in current years for kitchen intimacy.

“Where has your mind wandered?” Pom asked gently, noting his distance—genuine care softening her tone.

“Just tomorrow,” he deflected. Ana’s words had replayed  since the drive: inflections, hidden meanings. Her guidance had sealed fate’s necessity before; his spine’s quiet fire warned another pivotal moment neared. Yet he couldn’t dim its warmth with heavy truth.

“Plans?”

“Work from home—calls, screens. Escape the chaos below.” He nodded toward the lights.

“Lovely,” she agreed. “Remember, the carpenter comes tomorrow.”

“What?” William’s gaze had now been called back to the present. “So soon? Nothing major, right?”

“A few deck steps, some painting.”

“Heard that promise before…” A sarcastic bite recalled past renovations.

“Harrison’s sending him—the hockey game fellow?”

“The talking goatee? I don’t think he took a breath? Can’t wait to see his work.”

“Stop.” She gave a dismissive smile. “He seems decent enough—and after that last sudden lightening storm, our options for contractors are slim.”

William’s scowl deepened. “Shame a bolt didn’t hit him directly—he was horrendous.”

“Eat your steak.” Pom commanded. “I’ll keep him out of your way.”

“Better…” William’s grumble faded under the curve of her lip—his heart-melting into her inevitable victory. “What time?”

“Nine-ish.”

He savored the last bite of rib-eye, his gaze once again lingering out the window. “Thank you, Peacock—incredible dinner, perfect celebration.”

“The evening’s hardly done…” Her brow arched suggestive.

A grin now claimed William. “More?”

“How about another pour? I’ll fetch that surprise I picked up in Milan…”