Chapter 21 #2
“Cash,” he said, slightly breathless. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”
“Almost wasn’t,” I admitted.
Mike’s face fell slightly, but I was still upset. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I know the sermon was—”
“Directed at me in particular?” I snapped. “You couldn’t have given me some kind of warnin’ about all that?”
“Cash, I didn’t—”
“Go talk to your flock,” I said, turning away from him. “I… I need to take a walk.”
I walked away before he could say anything else, my boots clicking against the concrete steps as I descended toward the street.
I could hear him calling my name behind me, but I didn’t turn around.
I couldn’t. Not when my chest felt like it was caving in and my throat was so tight I could barely breathe.
The streets of Sagebrush were quiet, most folks still at church or heading home for Sunday dinner.
I found myself walking without any real destination in mind, just needing to move, to put distance between myself and that church and the way Mike’s words had stripped me bare in front of half the town.
Sometimes home isn’t a place we’ve never left. Sometimes it’s a place we have to find the courage to return to.
Fuck him for saying that. Fuck him for making it sound so simple, like all I had to do was decide to stay and everything would magically work itself out.
Like this place hadn’t chewed me up and spit me out once before.
Like my father’s ghost wasn’t lurking around every corner, reminding me that I wasn’t wanted here.
I found myself on the outskirts of town without really meaning to, standing at the edge of what used to be the old Miller property.
The house was gone now, nothing but a concrete foundation and some rusted fence posts to mark where it had been.
But I remembered it. Remembered riding past it on my way to school, remembered the way Mrs. Miller used to wave from her front porch.
Everything changes. Everything dies. Everything gets torn down eventually.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see Mike’s name on the screen, but I let it go to voicemail. Then it buzzed again. And again.
I turned it off and shoved it back in my pocket and kept walking.
A minute later I was getting into my truck, the engine roaring to life as I headed out of town toward my father’s ranch.
My thoughts were chaotic, making time slip by strangely.
It wasn’t long until I was pulling up to the debris field that used to be my childhood home.
I turned off the engine, rolled the windows down, and just sat there, listening to the birds singing in the trees.
It was a hot day despite the early hour and I found myself pulling at the buttons of my shirt.
I stripped it off completely and tossed it at the dashboard.
The glovebox must’ve been poorly latched, because the weight of the shirt was enough to dislodge it, causing it to fall open.
And there, curled up inside, was the yellow folder the lawyer had given me nearly two months before.
The one with the deed to the ranch, a copy of the will, and the letter from my father that I’d never opened.
Curiosity got the better of me as I yanked the envelope open and extracted the letter. I stared at it for a long time, my name in that blocky writing that was so familiar. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, I tore it open with a huff and began to read.
Cash, it began in his familiar scrawl. If you’re reading this, then I’m gone, and you came back like I always hoped you would.
My hands shook as I read on.
I know I wasn’t the father you deserved. I know I said things that hurt you, did things that drove you away. I was scared and angry and I took it out on the one person I should have protected most. Your mother would have been ashamed of me. Hell, I’m ashamed of myself.
I want you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for one day. I kept hoping you’d come home, that I’d get the chance to tell you I was sorry and try to make things right. I guess I waited too long and it’s my own damn fault. I never should’ve let you leave the house that night.
I had to stop reading for a moment, my vision blurring as tears I hadn’t expected threatened to spill over. My father’s handwriting wavered on the page, and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand before continuing.
The ranch should have been yours from the beginning. You always understood the land better than I did, even as a kid. You had your mother’s gentle way with the animals and my stubborn determination. It’s a good combination for a rancher, if you’ll let it be.
I know you probably want to sell it and get as far from here as possible.
I can’t blame you for that. But if there’s any part of you that still loves this place, that still remembers what it felt like to ride fence on Saturday mornings or help out during calving season, I hope you’ll consider staying.
The land needs someone who cares about it. And maybe you need the land too.
I’m sorry, son. For all of it. I love you and I’m proud of you, no matter what you decide to do.
Your father, James Callahan
P.S. - I’ve put your mother’s gold wedding band in the safe in my closet. The combination is your birthday. Maybe you’ll meet someone special someday that you can give one to. I wish I could’ve been there to meet him.
I sat there in the cab of my truck, staring at the letter until the words blurred together.
The apology I’d been waiting nearly ten years to hear, written in my father’s chunky writing.
It was too little, too late, just like I’d always said it would be.
So why did it feel like something inside my chest was cracking open?
I looked out at the ruins of the house, at the blackened foundation stones and what was left of the chimney standing like a lone sentinel against the sky.
I’d already found the safe my father had mentioned, with my mother’s ring inside.
A ring I’d never known existed. It was back at the parsonage with Mike.
The one man I promised myself I’d never fall for and the one I was slowly but surely falling in love with.