Chapter 9: Midnight at the Barn
The heavy wooden doors of the old barn creaked loudly as Claire slid them open, the night air rushing in to mix with the dry scent of old hay and harness leather. Arthur stood inside the cavernous space, his flashlight beam illuminating floating dust motes that danced like golden fireflies in the dark. The two collies sniffed around a stack of empty feed sacks in the corner, their tails wagging lazily.
"You shouldn't be out here in the cold, Claire," Arthur said without turning around, his voice gravelly and low. "It's late, and you’ve got a wedding to prep for—or whatever is left of it."
"I couldn't sleep, Uncle Arthur," Claire replied, stepping into the barn and pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. She walked over to the old wooden workbench where her grandfather used to repair harness straps and sharpen scythes. "Mom mentioned a buyer. Did she tell you who it is? Did you sign off on this too?"
Arthur turned off his flashlight, plunging them into a dim, amber glow cast by the security light outside filtering through the high gable windows. He walked over slowly, his joints popping with the effort. "I didn't have to sign, Claire. The land was in her name exclusively after your grandfather passed. But... no, she didn't tell me the name. She just said it was someone who promised to keep the barn standing."
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"Keep it standing for what? A gift shop for the tour bus passengers?" Claire scoffed bitterly, leaning against the workbench. "It feels like everything we were is being liquidated for spare parts."
"Maybe," Arthur said softly, resting his heavy hand on the workbench beside hers. "Or maybe we were holding onto a corpse because we were too scared to bury it. This land has secrets, Claire. Things that happened long before you were born. Sometimes, letting go isn't about losing. Sometimes, it’s about finally allowing the ground to heal."
