Reluctant Reunion

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Break over, he’d gone back to work. He stood inside the alpaca pen, pouring their food into a long trough from a large bucket. Was that strain I saw in his eyes? Physical pain? Those full buckets were heavy. When I was little, he’d seemed the strongest man on earth, wielding heavy objects like they were weightless. Now, he appeared to struggle. To hesitate before lifting anything more than something light and inconsequential. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?

  Without asking, I gently took the bucket from him and finished filling one end of the trough. After repeating the process a few more times, I set the bucket down and faced him.

  He wiped his damp forehead with an equally soggy handkerchief. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t feel like I was doing my share. My break was longer than yours.” The truth was, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Make him feel like he couldn’t do the work. Even though sometimes he couldn’t.

  He blinked against the bright sunlight. “You’ve been working hard. Doing more than your share. I’m so appreciative of—”

  I held up my hand. “There’s something I need to say.”

  He eyed me warily. “Okay. You’re not leaving already, are you? I’ve enjoyed having you here.”

  “No. Not leaving right now.” I leaned against the fence and waited for him to do the same. Once he’d joined me, I turned toward him. “When I was inside just now, Laurie was in the kitchen.”

  One side of his mouth rose in a smile. “She spends a lot of time in there. Loves to cook and bake. Lucky for me.” He patted his stomach, which wasn’t much to look at. Was he losing weight from his illness?

  “I know she does. I mean that she spends a lot of time.” I cleared my throat. “See… I’ve been avoiding her.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “It’s not hard to notice, kid. When we have meals together, you hardly make a sound. A whole lot different than when you grew up here.” He smirked. And he was right. I’d been a chatty little kid, probably driving my parents and siblings crazy with the incessant questions. “Want to tell me why you’re so quiet?”

  “It’s Laurie.”

  He lowered his eyebrows, waiting for me to continue.

  “It’s not her, exactly. Well, it is but…”

  He touched my arm, his fingers rough, the skin toughened from years of manual labor. “Just tell me. It’s okay.”

  The lump forming in my chest grew larger. I’d avoided this conversation for so long. Didn’t want to have it now. But I had to. It was way past time. “When Mom died, it was awful.” I glanced up at him.

  “I know.” He sighed. “Go on.”

  “Losing her was the hardest thing I’ve even gone through. That was bad enough. It got so painful, I couldn’t stand to be here. To see the evidence of her everywhere. In the things she loved, the way she decorated. The absence of her voice, her touch.” I swallowed, really hoping not to cry. “Between that and those.” I pointed my thumb at the alpacas who were noisily chewing their food. “I couldn’t stay here. Had to leave.”

  He nodded, like maybe he’d wondered that very thing about me. “And you’ve been gone a long time. Have stayed away. Hardly answered my calls.”

  “It was too hard after Mom was gone. Then, I heard about Laurie. Dad, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t understand why you… how you could…”

  “I should have been more understanding of you kids. Tried to explain better.”

  I grabbed his hand, needing something to hold on to.

  “Honey, I wasn’t looking for love again. Didn’t think I could ever find someone to give my heart to after your mom. But...”

  I thought about what Laurie had said. About how they hadn’t planned it. How it had developed over time, starting as an acquaintance, then friendship. “But you fell in love.”

  An expression crossed his face that I could only describe as joy. Contentment. Certainly, nothing I’d ever felt with Jerrod. “Yes. I do love her.”

  “And she loves you?”

  He tilted his head. “Am I missing something here? What went on just now in the house?”

  “Well, Laurie and I had a talk.”

  He lifted his eyebrows.

  “Don’t worry. Things went well.”

  “Glad to hear it. You know I don’t mind stray cats hanging around the farm, but I’d rather not have a catfight between you and her.”

  I laughed, imagining me and her rolling around on the floor, hissing, pulling each other’s hair. “No, no danger of that.” I sobered. “But the conversation just happened. I still have trouble with it all. You and her. And her not being Mom.”

  “That’s understandable. I get it, really.”

  A sigh came from somewhere deep inside my chest. “Okay. So, it might take a little time between me and her.”

  “It’s all right.” He leaned over and kissed the top of my head like he did when I was little. Something warm and wonderful broke loose in my heart.

  Chapter Ten

  When I woke the next morning, I had an unpleasant surprise. Jerrod, my knight in tarnished armor, had left me a long text filled with not so lovely curse words. Some were quite descriptive. Surprising that he’d waited this long to send it. He said if I ever showed my face at his apartment again, he’d call the cops. There wasn’t any danger of that because I wasn’t going back. Ever. Not only had what he’d done disillusioned me, the longer I was away from the stress and tension of New York, the less I missed it.

  While it was true that farm work wore me out physically, causing me to literally fall into bed into a dead sleep, my mind and thoughts were more relaxed. I didn’t worry about my appearance, about competing with other actresses for tiny commercial parts that wouldn’t amount to anything, anyway, and now that I knew what Jerrod was, what he had been for a long time, the sting of not having a boyfriend lessened considerably.

  The main stress now was my dad. And the farm. Seeing him worry about what would happen to it caused an ache in my gut. What would he do if he didn’t find a buyer? Ernesto didn’t seem at all sure he’d take it on. And Dad’s reaction to Ernesto’s recent answer made the possibility of no one to take it over even more real.

  I ate every bit of the large breakfast, amazed at how I hadn’t gained weight since I’d come home. While I was trying to get acting parts, some days I barely ate, hoping to compete with all the skinny models and actresses I was compared to. Maybe the physical labor I did everyday made up for the calorie intake. Either way, I had arm muscles I hadn’t noticed in years.

  Once outside, I headed to the barn. This morning, Dad had beat me out there. I stood just inside the open doorway, watching him work. The pained expression on his face from lifting the food pails broke my heart. The chore had once been so easy for him. He’d made it look effortless. Not anymore. And as his illness progressed, I assumed it would only get worse.

  Time to get to work. I stepped farther inside the building. “Hey, Dad.”

  He glanced up, his face still filled with pain, but he smiled when he saw me. “Hey, kid.”

  I hurried over and took the mostly-full bucket from him. After filling the trough, I set it down. “Do you need a break?”

  He scowled. “I just started work a little while ago.”

  I gave a shrug. “That’s okay.”

  Our eyes met. He knew that I knew how hard it was for him. As if giving himself permission to acknowledge his difficulty, Dad nodded and sat down on a nearby bench. I finished feeding the alpacas, who’d been stomping their feet, impatient for someone, anyone, to feed them.

  When I was done, I joined Dad on the bench. Not because I was tired, but because I didn’t want him to feel bad for resting. And, it seemed like a good way to show him I cared without getting all mushy. Dad had never been one to show his emotion easily. I’d witnessed several incidences, though, since I’d returned. Was that the MS? Or simply that he was tired, sad, and couldn’t deal with the strain of the farm and what would h
appen to it, anymore?

  He patted my knee and leaned over for a light shoulder bump, something he’d done to us kids when we were little. Back then, he’d been so much bigger than us, his shoulder bumps would nearly knock us over. That had always made us giggle, delighted that our big, strong dad could topple us so easily. Now, it was Dad who looked like a strong breeze could send him flying.

  I let out a sigh. Sorry that I’d waited so long to come home. That it had taken a cheating boyfriend to cause it to happen. That I’d let so much wasted time pass without much communication with him, and now I didn’t know how many years we’d have left to spend together.

  Regrets… always painful, but never constructive. What good did it do to dwell on it? Now I could at least do something to help at the farm. At least until he found a buyer. Then Dad could relax somewhat, knowing his beloved animals would be taken care of by someone who cared.

  Footsteps sounded from the open doorway. Ernesto. He gave me a nod as he approached. “Good morning, Kennedy.”

  “Hi, Ernesto.” Better get back to work. I started to stand but he held out his hand.

  “Just a moment, if you would.”

  I lowered my eyebrows and sat back down. “Okay.”

  Dad tensed beside me. Did he know what was coming?

  Ernesto stepped closer and then sat on the other side of Dad. He patted Dad’s knee, as Dad had done to me. “My dear friend, I think you know what I’ve come to say.”

  With effort, Dad swallowed hard, his throat moving up, then down. “I think so.”

  “I’ve put a lot of thought into my decision.” He removed his hat, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and replaced the hat. “I would love to take over the farm, you know that.”

  Dad nodded.

  “But I’m afraid it would be too much with all my other responsibilities. My fear is that I’d buy it, start on the work, then not be able to follow through. That’s a very likely scenario. In my mind, it wouldn’t be fair to do that to you. Better that I bow out now so you can find someone willing, able, and ready to work the farm for the long term without such reservations.”

  Dad remained quiet, head lowered, eyes fixed on his hands in his lap.

  My eyes teared up as I watched my father. Physical pain gripped my heart, squeezing hard. What would he do now?

  “I’m so sorry it isn’t what you’d hoped to hear,” said Ernesto. “But, for whoever does buy the farm, I’m more than happy to continue in my present capacity. Helping out, doing some of the work. I know it’s not much, but perhaps it helps a little?”

  Finally, Dad lifted his head. He gave his friend a small smile. “I appreciate the offer, and yes, I’d be most grateful if you’d continue on here. It would help a lot. Thank you for being honest about your decision.”

  “I’m so sorry to—”

  “No.” Dad raised his hand. “It’s okay. You have to do what’s right for you. I’d feel terrible if you took it on but then couldn’t continue.” He stuck out his hand, and Ernesto took it. “Everything will work out fine.”

  Letting out a long breath, Ernesto squeezed my dad’s hand before letting go. He stood, “Well, better get to work. These crazy animals won’t do the chores themselves.”

  I watched Ernesto leave the barn. Heard him talking to the alpacas outside in the pen. Then, I angled around to see how my father was handling the news. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “Yep.” He didn’t budge, though. Probably needed some time alone.

  “All right.” I leaned over and kissed his forehead then headed out to work.

  The day was long, as usual. Dad did some work, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. His movements were slow, and I didn’t think it was all from the MS. No, his heart was breaking, but he didn’t say anything else about Ernesto’s announcement. But what had I expected? Dad wasn’t the sort to spout off every thought in his head. He’d always been more introspective, keeping things in his heart, only releasing them when he couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Finally, at the end of the day, Ernesto headed out while I finished up. I hadn’t seen Dad for a little bit. I needed to check to see if he was all right.

  As I rounded the corner to the barn, I found him. Sitting inside one of the outdoor pens, his hand on an alpaca’s back, stroking the animal’s fluffy fur. Dad’s shoulders were hunched, and tears ran down his cheeks. Silently, I left, hoping he hadn’t heard me. Some things were meant to be private.

  With the alpacas tucked in for the night, Dad took off at a slow pace down the drive. He’d been doing that every evening after the work was finished. Did he need a break from it, or was he stretching his legs? I needed to research MS, find out what its sufferers had to endure. If I was going to live there, I should know.

  I’d heard Dad and Laurie talk a few times about where they’d live if the farm sold. Sounded like they’d be nearby in any case. His shoulders slumped lower than I’d seen them, and it hit me hard. The worry of what would happen to his beloved farm was taking a toll even greater than the physical labor did. Time to take action, Kennedy.

  I caught up with him and slowed to match my gait to his.

  He glanced over, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Hey, kid. Figured you’d be ready to pack it in for the day. Not tired?”

  I laughed. “Oh, I’m tired, but just thought…” I let the words hang in the breeze, not sure how to finish. How would he feel about me running the farm?

  “Something on your mind?”

  Now or never. I bit my lip then let out a breath. “Here’s the thing.”

  “Hmmm. That’s what you say when you’re ready to drop a bomb.”

  “It is?”

  He chuckled. “Always. But please, go on.”

  I stuck my hands in my front jeans pockets so Dad wouldn’t see me fidget. “I was thinking that maybe… if you thought it would be okay, and if it would work with the plans you have and seemed to…”

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” He stopped walking, so I did the same.

  “I’m not going back to New York.”

  “At all?”

  I shook my head. Not only was there nothing for me there, the city had lost its shine for me. What had started out glossy and exciting had turned dull and depressing.

  “What are your plans, then?”

  “Funny you should ask.”

  He tilted his head, waiting.

  “What would you think if… if I ran the farm?”

  “You?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Bad idea? You don’t think I could.”

  “I know you could. Just surprised you’d offer. You never used to like the alpacas.”

  “How’d you know that?”

  He laughed. “Not hard to figure out between the way you’d stomp your feet when it was your turn to feed them or grumble about having to come right home from school to clean out their pens.”

  Heat rose on my face. He was right. I smiled. “Yeah, well…”

  “Are you serious, though? About taking over?”

  I couldn’t believe it myself, but I was sure. “Yeah. I am.”

  A grin so big appeared on his face I almost cried. To see him so relieved, so happy made my heart fill with love. He wrapped me in his arms, not as tight as he used to because of his weakened state, but the intent was there all the same. He pulled back and looked me over from forehead to chin. “You have no idea how…” He dropped his arms from around me then fished around in his shirt pocket for an old red bandana. After wiping away a few tears, he stuffed the scrap of material back in his pocket.

  I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I glanced away, acting like I hadn’t noticed his strong emotion.

  I noticed a couple of alpacas, sticking their large heads out of a low window in the barn. Nosy things. Guess they wanted to see what we were talking about. I smirked. They were funny with their weird noises and unpredictable behavior. Amazing that after all the years of not liking them, my job now would be taking care of them every day.
But that was okay. No, more than okay. I was home. It was where I was meant to be. I blew out a breath and focused again on Dad.

  He took my hand and gave it a squeeze, then smiled. “Welcome home, Kennedy.”

  THE END

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  About the Author

  Bestselling author Ruth J. Hartman spends her days herding cats and her nights spinning sweet romantic tales that make you smile, giggle, or laugh out loud. She, her husband, and their two cats love to spend time curled up in their recliners watching old Cary Grant movies. Well, the cats, Roxy, and Remmie, sit in the people's recliners. Not that the cats couldn't get their own furniture. They just choose to shed on someone else's. You know how selfish those little furry creatures can be.

  Ruth, a left-handed, cat-herding, Jeep driving, farmhouse-dwelling romance writer uses her goofy sense of humor as she writes tales of lovable, klutzy women and the men who adore them. Ruth's husband and best friend, Garry, reads her manuscripts, rolls his eyes at her weird story ideas, and loves her in spite of her penchant for insisting all of her books have at least one cat in them. Or twelve. But hey, who's counting?

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