Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Brodie arrived back in Autumn Falls the following afternoon. Driving along the road back to his condo, he passed the turning to the Silver Sky Ranch and the big metal gates. He slowed to a crawl, thought about driving on, but found himself flicking the blinker and taking the turn.
It felt as if, before he did anything else, he needed to talk to his dad. Needed to tell him that in some ways he was right but in others he was wrong. Just needed to be honest.
The lights were on in The Silver Pantry. But this time, Brodie parked up at the far end of the drive nearer the main ranch. He got out the car, slammed the door and, bracing himself, crossed the yard.
The chickens were scratching in the dirt, squabbling over food. Brodie had never been a big fan of chickens and circled them as he walked toward the horse barn and the paddock.
A couple of the horses were out. The dog, Rocky, came out to greet him, jumping up with his paws on Brodie’s sweater, which would have earned him a scolding from Noah. Then he bounded back into the barn.
Brodie followed. “Hello?” he called out as he reached the entrance. The radio was playing. The evening sun warming the wood. Noah’s horse Blue’s inquisitive head stretched over a stall. But no sign of his dad.
Then the dog barked again, and Brodie looked down the end of the path and there was his dad, lying prostrate on the ground, hand to his chest.
“Dad!” Brodie shouted, sprinting over to where he lay, pale-faced, sweating, barely breathing. “It’s okay, Dad, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Mind racing with panic, Brodie got his phone out and dialed 911. “Yes, the Silver Sky Ranch. You need to get here fast!”
He pulled off his sweater and folded it under his dad’s head. Then he rang his mom who went from bright and breezy to panting as she ran to the barn.
Brodie sat on the concrete floor, holding his dad’s cool hand in his, praying for him not to die.
Just thinking that he wanted to be able to talk to him, to understand him, to know him.
His eyes kept straying to Emmett’s old, much-darned shirt, one he used to wear when they were kids, faded now with age, scattered with burn marks from bonfire sparks.
He stared at his craggy face, softer in what looked like sleep, and had to squeeze away tears. “Oh, Dad, come on, please! Please!”
The dog was outside barking.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” He pressed his hand over his face—thought of all his defensive, sarcastic retorts.
Thought of them winding each other up, bashing heads.
But saw suddenly a glimpse of some moments of laughter.
A loud, unplanned cheer from Emmett the time Brodie scored a long-range, game-winning shot in polo.
His smile of relief when, standing on the edge of the Halfmoon Lake, Brodie finally mastered fly casting.
Emmett’s toast to them all when branding was done.
Not every good moment held an absence of his father, he could see that now.
He thought of mistakes he had and would make with Zoey; understood how hard it all was. Realized that his mom was right. No one knows what they’re doing.
Be there, shepherd them, that’s enough.
It was Brodie’s turn now, to do it his way.
Looking down at his dad, he felt an overriding passion to protect this man, to make him feel safe and loved and unafraid, at a time when terror flooded icy through his own veins.
“It’s okay,” he kept saying, holding his dad’s hand tight in his.
He could hear his mom’s running footsteps approaching.
“An ambulance is coming. It’ll be okay,” he said, whether he believed it or not.
And as he said it, calm and gentle, fatherly, trying to keep his own panic at bay, he felt his dad’s hand squeeze lightly back.