Chapter 5
By mid-morning, the rain had cleared, leaving behind a damp, gray world where water dripped steadily from the eaves of the barn. Lucas walked the perimeter of the property alone, his boots crunching on the gravel drive. Every fence post, every gate latch, and every outbuilding told a dual story: the one he remembered building with his own hands, and the one that had been altered, repaired, and maintained by another man's labor.
He stopped by the tractor shed. The old John Deere tractor he had loved was gone, replaced by a newer model with a red chassis and updated hydraulics. Thomas had clearly invested his own sweat and capital into making the farm viable again. Lucas ran a hand over the steel fender of the new tractor, feeling the cold, smooth metal. He wasn't jealous; he was acutely conscious of the sheer impossibility of his own position. He was a man out of time, an artifact preserved in amber who had suddenly been dropped back into a world that had successfully adapted to his absence.
As he turned back toward the house, he saw Lily sitting on the front porch steps. She was still wearing his field jacket, the hem dragging slightly in the damp dirt. She was tossing small pebbles into the gravel driveway, watching them bounce with a distracted air. When she saw him approaching, her face lit up with a tentative, hopeful smile that broke his heart all over again.
"Are you going to stay?" Lily asked as he reached the steps, her small voice carrying the anxiety of a child who had already experienced the disappearance of everything stable in her world.
Lucas sat down beside her on the wooden plank, pulling her close against his side. "I’m not going anywhere, Lily. I'm right here."
"Mommy and Thomas are fighting," she whispered, her eyes cast down at the gravel. "They think I can't hear them, but I can. They're scared of you."
"They aren't scared of me, sweetie," Lucas lied gently, resting his chin on top of her soft, blonde hair. "They're just confused. Grown-ups have a hard time when things don't go according to plan."
"Is this our house?" she asked, a frown creasing her dirty brow.
"It always was," Lucas said, though as he looked up and saw Thomas standing by the barn door watching them with a guarded expression, he knew the answer was far more complicated than a simple yes or no.
May you like
Thomas started walking across the yard, his boots crunching rhythmically on the wet stones. He stopped a few paces away from the porch, his hands resting on his hips. He didn't look angry; instead, he looked exhausted, weighed down by the same invisible burden that had settled over Lucas the moment he crossed the gate.
"We need to talk, Lucas," Thomas said, his tone flat and utilitarian. "Not about the farm, and not about the past. About what happens tomorrow."
