The Homecoming

by Christine Sterling

  She spooned a small serving of the mush and poured a bit of syrup over it. She added two pieces of the fried salt pork and poured a glass of milk. It wouldn’t be good if she disregarded her mother’s warning.

  The first time her mother had put her in charge of her father, she ended up overfeeding him and he was sick for three days afterward. She only fed him because he was crying that he was starving.

  She carried the plate and a cup of milk down the hallway to her parents’ room. She knocked slowly on the door with her foot. When she heard a short acknowledgement, she walked into the room. Her father was sitting partially up on the bed with a book laying over his thighs. “Clementine!” he exclaimed. “What do I owe the honor today? You don’t normally bring me my meal.”

  Clementine placed the cup of milk on the table next to the bed and signaled for him to put his book aside. “Momma had to go to the main house. What are you reading?” she asked.

  “An almanac from five years ago,” he said, laying it aside. I don’t think we have a more recent one.” Her father took the plate and looked disapprovingly on the fare in front of him. “I take it she’ll be gone all day again?”

  Clementine nodded her head. “Momma said she would be back by nightfall. I think she’s finishing up Rosalie’s wedding dress.”

  Stanley sighed, scratching his balding head. “She always seems to be staying late. But I guess a wedding dress is as good a cause as any. I’m not comfortable that she walks all the way back in the dark.”

  “Pa, it’s the farm. Nothing bad ever happens here.” And it was true. The Johnson farm and the two properties attached to it were quite expansive; it took up almost a quarter of Belle, Wyoming. They had never even had a trespasser on the land. Clementine knew there was nowhere safer than this farm. “Besides, in a few days it will all be over.”

  Her father seemed to relent as she careful walked towards his bed and set his food next to him. “Do you need help?” she asked.

  “I can do it myself, Clemmie. I’m not so helpless that I can’t use my arms,” he said as he grasped the spoon and started to dig into the simple meal.

  Momma did tend to fuss over him. She didn’t want him doing anything himself. Clementine secretly thought her father enjoyed the attention.

  He had been bedridden for nearly seven years. Clementine had just turned eighteen when the day that changed all their lives happened. Her father had taken one of the horses and was riding the outskirts of the property to check the fences when a quick moving storm raced through the area.

  A crack of lightening hit a tree, spooking his horse. When the horse reared, her father fell off, and was crushed as the tree limb came toppling to the ground.

  It took two days for anyone to find him. He had crushed his lower back and pelvis, not to mention breaking the upper portion of both legs. Paps found him first and immediately sent one of the hands to fetch Old Doc Roberts. The prognosis didn’t look good and her father found himself bedridden, not knowing if he would make it through the night.

  Dr. Roberts insisted that they not get their hopes up. He told them that if her father survived, he would never be the same. And it was true; he did survive but hadn’t moved from the bed since.

  It was a crushing defeat, as he was the sole income earner in the family. Her mother’s biggest concern was that they would be kicked off the farm since Stanley couldn’t work anymore. But Paps had a surprise.

  He told them that they owned a large stake in the actual horses. He took some of those proceeds to break away the land and house they were living on from the main farm, so no one could ever take it from them. Momma had the paperwork to say so. It was drafted by a lawyer in Glenda.

  In gratitude, her Momma helped out fixing meals for the ranch hands once a week, and Clementine would do the mending since the ranch hands were hard on their clothes. Paps always paid them for their services. He was kind and fair.

  She watched her father eat his food. He concentrated on each bite as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. Her father had to relearn the most basic skills after the accident. His meals needed to be small because larger meals couldn’t be digested properly, resulting in him being ill for days afterwards.

  Clementine hoped that eventually he would be able to walk again, but Dr. Roberts was very adamant about not having false hope.

  So, Clementine became her father’s caregiver when her mother wasn’t available. Before she knew it, weeks turned into months, which turned into years. And soon Clementine was in her twenties and past the proper age for marriage.

  Now, she was deemed a spinster; she was too old to be taken seriously as a potential marriage candidate. When she was younger, she actually had a few suitors that were interested in her.

  She enjoyed the attention, although she didn’t share the feelings. Her heart was already promised to another. Back then she held onto the foolish idea that Hank was going to come back for her.

  But that was before the accident. No one wanted to consider a young woman that may need to live with her parents the rest of her life.

  “Your mother has told me that Sebastian and Ivy are expecting,” he said.

  Sebastian was a trapper that lived high in the mountains. He would stop by to pick up a jar of her Momma’s preserves when he came through town. He married Ivy, who was kidnapped and held for ransom by a group of outlaws.

  Sebastian tracked them but ended up getting shot when he rescued Ivy. They were snowed in together in his cabin before they could make it back down to town. Sebastian married her at the annual Christmas Eve ceremony.

  In fact, there were several couples that married that night. Clementine really did try to be happy for them. Her mind just played the game of what if…

  “I think she heard it at the café. You know how they love to talk there.” Her father laughed. Clementine didn’t want to tell her father that even though she was happy for her friend, it made her sad that it would never be her.

  Those dreams of babies with shaggy brown hair just seemed to fade away.

  “I bet you will make a lovely mother someday,”

  Clementine looked up from her hands and at her father. He stared at her with an earnestness that she found endearing. When he said the words to her, it was if he believed them even though she didn’t. Her father had spoken often about this, increasingly with each passing day.

  “I’d need to get married first, but that won’t happen. No one wants an old maid for a wife.”

  “You’d be surprised, honey. Keep praying to God. He has something mighty in store for you.”

  Clementine grasped her father’s hand, joining his smile. “I hope you are right, Pa,” she said, with a squeeze. She let go of his hand and steered the subject to a bit of gossip from town.

  Clementine recounted the little bit of information she had heard from her last town visit to her father. After chatting, her father said he needed to rest.

  “I’m so tired, Clemmie girl.”

  Only her father and Hank ever called her Clemmie.

  “Should I get the doctor?” she asked, worried as he was getting weaker every day.

  “No, I just need to rest.”

  She took the plate from him and tucked him back into bed, kissing him on the forehead. She stood at the door until she heard his light snores filling the room. When she was sure he was asleep she went back to the kitchen and cleaned the plate in the wash tub before starting on the rest of the dishes from breakfast.

  Once she was done, she gave the table a quick wipe down and then emptied the wash bin off the back porch. Clementine went back to her room to finish the sewing. She pulled the basket on top of her bed and looked at the pairs of pants that needed to be hemmed.

  She wished she would be sewing for her own husband instead of a bunch of cowboys. The ranch hands were hard on their clothes and Clementine knew that she would be sewing most of these pants again in a few weeks.

  Clementine sighed heavily. Before she could stop herself, she crouched down by her
bed and reached her arm under, her fingers searching until she felt the wooden box. She snagged her finger on the blue ribbon wrapped around the box in a bow and pulled the box from under the bed.

  Returning to her bed, she sat cross-legged on the quilt. She gently removed the ribbon and placed it aside. Taking a deep breath, she counted to three and opened the box. The box contained folded pieces of paper filled with bold strokes and broken promises.

  She picked up the one on top and unfolded it. It was the last letter she received from him. She was so happy that she ripped the envelope to get to the letter inside. She could recall the words on the aging paper, without having to read them.

  His parents were well. Seth was getting married to a nice girl. Then came the loving words, that he missed her. That he was going to be coming back home. And for her to keep the promise she made that day by the lake. He even gave her a date of when he would be coming. She was so happy; she cried happy tears.

  She counted down the days until he was going to arrive; she couldn’t contain her happiness. When the day came, she escaped the house in the early morning, even before Momma woke up. She left a note for her parents, skipping out on her morning chores because she wanted to be the first person at the train station for him to see.

  She caught a ride to Glenda with Paps. She had done it before, so it wasn’t too suspicious. If he suspected anything he didn’t say. He didn’t ask any questions and she didn’t give any information.

  When the first train came, and Hank was not on it, she thought that maybe she had gotten the time wrong. But it wasn’t an issue, as the next train was only an hour behind. Surely that one he would be on. But then that train came into the station and left, there was still no sign of him.

  Paps came over and gently explained that they needed to leave. Clementine wanted to stamp her feet, scream and beg him to stay until Hank arrived. Instead she simply nodded and climbed back in the wagon.

  Maybe something had happened, and he had to take a later train, she thought to herself. She had to accept that he wasn’t coming. She wondered if he had sent the wrong day, but then days turned into weeks and then six months had passed. With every passing day her heart tore a little bit more.

  She received no other letters. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air. She wished her feelings had disappeared just as fast.

  She should have known loving Hank Lucas would get her heart broken in the end.

  Chapter 4

  The house was just as he remembered it.

  He looked around at the weathered walls. The wood was chipping a bit at the corners and it smelled like no one had set foot inside the room in years. It had a musty smell of old linens and sunbeams. Still, it felt more like home than any place did in New Mexico.

  He remembered telling his father how much he hated Santa Fe; that he wanted to return to Belle. He remembered the look of sadness when he yelled at his father that he hated him for taking the family to Santa Fe.

  The anger grew in him until it couldn’t be contained. So, he decided to head back to Belle on his own. He even sent a letter to Clementine informing her of his plans. It was his mother who intercepted him as he tried to sneak out to the train station. She said that her heart would be broken if he left, but she wouldn’t stop him. She sat at the table crying as Hank looked inside his conflicted heart.

  He ended up staying and didn’t write to Clementine again. He looked around at the room he shared with his brother. Where it once had furniture, it was now a storage room. He walked over to the edge of the room, where his bed used to sit and sat back on his heels. He found what he was looking for right along the floorboards.

  There in the wall was carved a small heart with the initials HL + CB. He let his fingers graze the design as the memories came flooding back to him.

  “Hank, you shouldn’t be doing that,” Clementine chastised him. “You are gonna get into trouble with your momma.”

  “Ma won’t care. She won’t even notice.” He stuck out his tongue in concentration as he finished carving the initials in the heart. It was a little cramped as he made his initials a little too big. But he managed to include hers in the small heart.

  “Well your Aunt Martha will.”

  “There,” he said, laying his knife to the side. “It’s done.”

  Clementine traced the design. “Oh Hank,” she said softly. “It is beautiful.”

  “Just like you, Clemmy-mine.”

  Clementine laughed as he called her the funny name. “Why did you do it, Hank?”

  Hank shrugged. “I dunno. I just wanted to.”

  Clementine leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  Clementine smiled at him. “I just wanted to.”

  Hank could still feel her soft lips against his cheek. Even though he denied it, he knew exactly why he carved the design on the wall.

  He wanted Clementine to be with him always. Even though at that young age, when he wasn’t sure exactly what the feelings were, he wanted to let it be known that she was his and he was hers.

  He had even ventured to recreate the carving in more locations around town. With each carving he became more fearless in the locations he chose.

  Still, this first place where he had put their initials held a special place in his heart. He heard shuffling behind him, and he quickly stood.

  Martha came through the doorway, her arms filled with blankets. Abby trailed behind her, wild flowers in her hand. She still had two fingers in her mouth.

  “Here are some blankets for you,” she said, as she set the blankets down on the small bed in the corner.

  “Of course,” Martha said, taking the wild flowers. “I thought you might have wanted your old bedroom. If you would rather have one of the other rooms, I can set something up. Dwight and I had thought about fixing up the rooms a bit. But then when he passed, I just couldn’t find the courage to do anything with it. It almost felt like I was moving on without him.”

  “No, this is fine for me. If I am to be honest, it’s rather comforting to be here. It brings me back to a simpler time.” He walked over to Abigail, putting his hand on her cheek. “What do you have there, Dewdrop?” he asked, looking at the lovely flowers.

  “Look, Uncle Hank,” Abby said, thrusting the bouquet out. “I got flowers. Auntie Martha says they are wild flowers. There are whole fields of them outside!” she exclaimed with a wide smile. Their home in Santa Fe was full of desert, so he knew the sight of a flower field was probably a wonderful sight for Abby. “Auntie Martha said I could pick a bouquet to put on the table.”

  “She did?” he asked. He winked at Martha. “Then I guess you’ll need to do that every day.”

  “Aren’t they pretty, Uncle Hank?” she said, as she passed the flowers to him.

  He lifted the flowers, letting the scent wash over him. They smelled like sweet sunshine and for a moment he was back on that field, staring into the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Twisting his head to shake the image, he handed the flowers back to his niece. “They are beautiful. How about you put them on the table and get ready for supper?” he said, as he nudged the girl back through the door.

  Hank could hear her footsteps as she headed towards the kitchen.

  “I should go find her a jar to put them in,” Martha said.

  “I’m happy she feels relaxed with you. She must feel safe here.”

  “I hope she does. I set her up in Seth’s room. We made her bed and folded her clothes to put in the chest. I had originally thought you would be bringing more.”

  “Yeah,” Hank said, shaking the memories of that day. “There was really nothing left. The clothes we do have were from the church. Then Padre gave us what he could.”

  Martha gave a sad smile. “We can make do. I think I have some old dresses of my own that I can use to make dresses for her.” She moved to the dresser in the room and fiddled with the few items on top of it.

  Hank smiled. Martha hadn’t changed much since
he last saw her. When she was restless or nervous, she tried to do as much as she could with her hands. Hank walked over to her and grabbed her hands to pull her away from her busy work. “Aunt Martha, I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am that you have taken us into your home.”

  A blush creeped up her cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me, Hank. We are family after all.”

  “Still, it’s quite an adjustment, especially to take in a little girl that you had never met.”

  “But that is where you are wrong. I feel like I do know you two,” she said with a sad smile. “I still have all the letters your mother sent me from Santa Fe. Hazel always made sure that she informed me of everything. Her letters were so descriptive, it was like I was there.”

  Hank smiled. There was only a year between his mother and Martha. They were the best of friends growing up and then sisters when Hazel married Martha’s brother. Everyone lived together in that house for as long as he could remember.

  When they moved to Santa Fe, his mother wrote a letter to Martha every single week. He knew his mother missed Belle as well.

  Those letters inspired him to write letters of his own to Clementine. He would never forget her last letter telling him she waited at the train station, but he never arrived.

  He didn’t respond. Partially from shame and partially because he didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m glad that the house has people in it again. I was starting to think that maybe I should move into the main house. Mr. Johnson had asked if I wanted to, now that Rosalie is getting married. They have plenty of rooms now.”

  “Rosalie is getting married?” Hank asked. It was hard to imagine the young girl who was barely learning how to walk the last time he had seen her.

  “Well, she is seventeen now. She’s engaged to Martin Davis; he is the trainer over at the ranch.”

  Hank was surprised. “I thought Stanley Beck was the trainer.” Martha looked away, wringing her hands. “What is it, Aunt Martha?”

  “I thought you knew. I wrote about it in one of my letters to Hazel. I just thought she had told you.” A feeling of apprehension flared in his stomach.