Chapter 2
Ifor Morgan stirred the pot of cawl simmering on the stove. “S’ready, Tad!”
His father shuffled into the room, sniffing the air with a smile on his face. “Mm, just like home.”
Ifor forced a smile. Not quite. Oh, how he missed their cozy cottage nestled amidst the hills in their littleWelsh valley. Especially after everything that’d happened at work that day.
He servedtwo generous bowls full of the hearty stew and placed them on the kitchen table, at which his father was now seated. Ifor lowered himself onto his chair with a weary sigh.
“Tired, son? Long day at the mine, eh?”
Ifor hesitated. “It wasn’t the work that fatigued me today, Tad. It was the people. Or, rather, one person in particular.”
“Oh?”
Ifor noticed the steam rising from their bowls, and motioned with his head. “We ought to givethanks so we can eat before it gets cold.”
His father led them in thanking God for providing their food and the home in which they were eating it. He closed with gratitude for Ifor’s job at the local mine, which provided their means.
“Now, what was all the strife about today?” his father asked before helping himself to a generous spoonful of cawl.
Ifor took a spoonful of his own, only realizing how hungry he was as he sank his teeth into a tasty chunk of lamb. “Paxton, again. Wanted to slack off after the boss had to leave early. Me and some of the other lads had to keep telling him to get back to work. Did nothing but complain, he did. Tried to encourage some of the other lads to slack, too. Then...” Ifor paused.
His father looked up at him, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Then?”
“We had a...bit of an argument.”
His father swallowed another few mouthfuls. “Not like you to argue, son.”
The heaviness in the air was almost tangible. Ifor knew what his father was thinking. It wasn’t like him, but it was like his brother, Rhys.
Ifor cleared his throat, trying to clear the difficult memories from his mind as he drew a slow, silent breath. “It was nothing like that, Tad.”
His father glanced up, and a silent exchange of understanding passed between them.
“Didn’t think it would’ve been.” His father nodded. “So what happened, then?”
Ifor sighed. “Paxton kept at it, so I took him aside and gave him a telling off. A civil one, mind. But my words were firm.”
“And it didn’t go over well?”
“No. He’s got a bee in his bonnet now. Has it in for me by the looks of it. But I don’t care. Itold him that I believe a personought to do what’s right, no matter the cost, and no matter who’s looking—or not looking, in this case. I live by that, and I told him he ought to think about living by it, too.” He shook his head. “Some people there’s just no getting through to, though.”
“I know, yn fab i. I know.”
The air grew heavy again.
Ifor silently reflected on his father’s tenderness. He was a man of such valor and courage, which had only made Rhys’s scandal all the worse. The two couldn’t be more unlike one another. It was Ifor’s deepest hope that the same couldn’t be said about himself and his father. He’d watched and admired him all his life.
If he could one day be half the man his father was, he’d be only too glad.
“That was lovely, lad. I remember the cawl your mam used to make.” His father chuckled, fondness lighting his eyes as they gazed at some invisible memory. “Yours is just as good.”
“Not as I remember it!”Ifor smiled, though his heart and throat ached. His mother had been gone for six years. He missed her tremendously, though he’d often been glad she hadn’t witnessed all that had happened with Rhys.
If the cholera hadn’t already killed her, Rhys’s escapades certainly would’ve.
“Another helping?” His father’s eyes creased at the corners as he smiled expectantly.
“Of course, Tad.” Ifor stood and gathered their bowls, then filled each one to the brim again.
At least he still had Tad. Their family might have reduced in size by half, but he was wholly glad his father had made the move thousands of miles across the ocean with him.
As his father hummed an old familiar Welsh tune, Ifor pictured the lush grass androlling hills they’d left behind. It was such a contrast from the dry, dusty desert they lived in now. Though he was grateful for his work, and for all the ways God had blessed them in Lone Pine, his heart still held Wales as home.Would they ever be able to go back?
Or would the stain of his brother’s shame remain upon their name forever?