Chapter 9
That evening, the sun set in a brilliant explosion of amber and violet across the western horizon, casting long, skeletal shadows across the overgrown fields. Thomas was nowhere to be found when Lucas and Sarah returned from the courthouse. His truck was parked by the barn, but the workshop was dark, and the heavy sliding door was locked from the inside.
Lucas sat on the front porch steps alone, whittling a small piece of pine into a crude wooden horse for Lily, who was fast asleep upstairs after a long and exhausting day. The rhythmic scraping of his pocketknife against the wood was the only sound cutting through the quiet evening air.
Heavy footfalls crunched on the gravel drive. Thomas emerged from the shadows of the barn, his face smudged with grease and engine oil. He didn't look up as he approached the porch, but instead of walking past toward the back door, he stopped at the foot of the steps and leaned against the wooden support post, staring out into the darkening fields.
"The harvester threw a rod," Thomas said, his voice flat and tired. "I spent the last three hours tearing down the transmission. It’s fixed now, but it’s old. We’re going to need a new one before the spring planting."
"I can help with the wrenching tomorrow," Lucas said quietly, not looking up from the wooden horse in his hands. "I spent four years as a motor pool sergeant before the infantry transfer. I know every gear in those diesels."
Thomas let out a short, bitter breath, shaking his head. "You think you can just step back into the grease pit, Lucas? You think you can pick up a wrench and pretend the last five years never happened?"
"No," Lucas said, finally stopping his knife and looking up at the other man. "I know the last five years happened. I carry the scars of them just like you carry the calluses on your hands from keeping this place alive. I’m not trying to erase what you did, Thomas. I'm trying to figure out how the three of us are going to share the same oxygen without tearing each other apart."
Thomas turned his head, his hard gaze locking onto Lucas’s eyes. The hostility in his posture slowly deflated, replaced by the crushing weight of their shared stalemate. "Sarah talked to the lawyer today, didn't she?"
"She did," Lucas replied. "The legal machine is moving. It’s slow, but it’s moving."
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"And when it catches up?" Thomas asked, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur. "When the court decides who owns the acreage and who sleeps in the master bedroom? What then, Lucas?"
"Then we deal with it like men," Lucas said, standing up to meet Thomas at eye level. "Not by hiding behind machinery or running away into the barn, but by facing the mess we've been handed."
