Day 55 – Writing exercise

You make a surprise visit home after a five-year absence…

…

I was not one of the popular kids at school.  I kept to myself, I put my head down, studied hard, and towards the end, balanced school with chores on the farm and a part-time job at the local hardware store.

There were no special friends, not the sort my sister had, what they called the sisterhood, who hung out together, went to parties, had boyfriends and the angst that went with it.

The boys at my school, to me, were horrible, a mixture of tough and tumble, to borderline bullies.  It didn’t help that their fathers were mostly self-made men who had to fight for everything.

It was almost an ethos.

I went away with the intention of getting a university degree and stayed with my grandmother, on my mother’s side, a gentle soul who could be both acerbic and sweet at the same time.  She taught me a few valuable lessons in living your life in your own way, which she had learned over many years.

I think she had more enemies than friends, but one thing she did have was respect.  Having a vast fortune helped.

After nursing her through the most recent heart attack, forsaking studies to ensure she was looked after, I decided I would return home.  It had been nearly five years, and I had changed considerably.

She insisted that I could not stay away forever, and she was probably right.  My parents were getting older, and my two brothers were less inclined to work on the farm but preferred to waste their time with the rest of the lazy offspring.

It kept the sheriff and his deputies busy, and made entertaining emails from my sister, whose reports were more likely the local paper’s crime watch column. 

So, having not achieved any of my planned objectives, it seemed the best I could hope for was to go home, ingratiate myself with my father and pretend I wanted to inherit the farm as any eldest son and heir should.

..

I had been on planes before, only larger.  We lived in a small town in the middle of ranch territory, and some days it used to feel like we’re were back in the frontier days, cattle as far as the eye could see, rolling hills and backdrop mountains, grass in summer and snow in winter.

It was the beginning of winter, and snow was coming.  Out on the range, there would be a cold wind, one that cut through everything and chilled you to the bone.

I was sure the moment I got home, there would be no time to speak of many things, just change, get your horse and join the others and round up the cattle for the oncoming winter.

Running a ranch never stopped.

The question to consider as we were hurtling through the sky was, did I want to take the reins of running the place or do something else, somewhere else?  After all, I was not the only one who left after graduating high school, and like me, also chose to go to college or university, just in case.

Of what, I wasn’t sure, but as time progressed, being on the land had become a precarious life, and not the romantic, wealth-generating life it once was.  We were not among the wealthier ranchers; whatever fortune we had slowly frittered away keeping the ranch going.  We weren’t poor, but it could only last so long before the inevitable.

This would be the second time, and Daisy had painted a rather grim picture.  My first visit had been hostile, the question of responsibility being thrown around, and I’d refused to accept it.  I said I needed to see the outside world first, and neither of my parents, brothers, nor sister could understand why I would want to.

What was there elsewhere that wasn’t in God’s own country?

After five years, I was inclined to agree with them. 

But I was never quite sure what the others of my generation and situation thought.  In the beginning, we all met up at a Cafe to discuss the differences.  We all intended to go home during the holidays.  Some did, others did not. 

Over time, some found partners, some of whom knew only of city life, and were taken back to meet the family with predictable results.  Others found jobs and made a new life, turning their backs on tradition and family.  Very few returned other than to visit, with very mixed results.

Daisy was across it all, the unofficial custodian of the high school alumni, responsible for reunions and other events involving past students.  She knew where everyone was, or at least those who wanted to be found.  That list, she said, was getting smaller.

The way she painted it this time, I was going home to a ghost town, with the tumble weeds being blown up Main Street, passing from one prairie to the next.

My only thought as I slumped into the seat, just a fraction too small for the frame I’d acquired from my father’s side, was whether or not I believed I had failed. I  didn’t care what anyone else thought.

Not then.

…

I remembered to get my cell phone out of my carry-on bag and rearranged it around the other bags, some carelessly tossed in.  I had booked the aisle seat, making it easier to get in and out.  The window seat was a smaller space with no manoeuvrability.

It would be taken, and the longer they took to board told me it would be an entitled frequent flyer.  Been there and seen that a few times.

Then, as the flow trickled out and the hostesses started moving through the cabin, closing overhead bin doors, I was beginning to hope that there wasn’t anyone.  The fact that the plane was fully booked suggested that the passenger was a no-show.

Or…

It was a crazy girl overloaded with bags and presents profusely apologising for being late, and, yes, she was sitting next to me.

Damn.

I stepped out of the seat to make it easier for her to get in, and watched her check her boarding pass and then the seat numbers, which to me was ridiculous.  There was only one seat left.

Then she stopped right in front of me.  About a foot shorter, a lopsided grin, and I immediately went back six years to the first moment I ran into the human whirlwind, Josephine Debois.

“Josephine?”

She stopped, the grin going to surprise, then back again to that very expression she had the first time she saw me.

“Andy Ripponsburg.  If I live and breathe!”

The hostess had just seen the Captain glancing out the door that kept the passengers out, and wasn’t out of curiosity.  The door closed, and we were about to leave.

“Best keep the reunion until you’re seated and we’re underway.”

She opened the overhead bin, and everything disappeared into whatever spare space there was. The girl hustled into her seat and buckled her seatbelt up. I got into my seat, and the inspection was done.

Just as I fastened the seatbelt, the plane jolted suddenly, and then it was pushing back from the gate.

Josephine was getting settled.  I had so many thoughts running through my head that it almost hurt.  Where did I begin?  Josephine, the girl who had stolen my heart and then smashed into a million pieces.  Perhaps it was that more than anything else that persuaded me to leave home and vow never to return.

What a shock to learn she had also come to the big city, my big city.

We ran through the safety procedures, the tractor disengaged, and the engines started up, settling into a steady roar.  A minute later, we were heading to the top of the runway.

Two hours and twenty-five minutes.

I didn’t know whether to be nice, stand offish, angry, or just put on my headphones and totally ignore her.  And damn her, she had set my heart racing just by seeing her.  She had that effect.  She always had that effect, and probably always would.

Now settled, she stared out the window.  Perhaps she had finally remembered what had happened and how it destroyed us.  I had thought she was like me, not part of the groups that made life hell for everyone who wasn’t.

Until she and her friends played their prank, and left me embarrassed and humiliated, just the result the mean girls wanted.

I would never, ever forget it.

I intended to ignore her, closing mt eyes and relaxing.  Not that being next to her was knowing she was there was going to make it easy.

And…

In those first few seconds as the plane left the ground, followed by the clunk of the retracting wheels, she had put her hand in mine and held it very tightly for reassurance, her expression one of total fear.

She let go when the plane levelled out.

I glanced sideways, and she was looking at me, a look I was very familiar with, and one I mistook for something else.

“I’m sorry.  Very, very, very sorry for what happened.  I didn’t know what they were doing until it was too late.  I rang your sister, but it was too late.  For everything.”

“Does it matter now?  What happened happened, and I should have expected it.  I was a gullible fool back then, but then what boy that age wrapped up in his first romantic relationship isn’t?”

I’d said as much to Daisy at the time.  She tried to tell me that it wasn’t all as it seemed, but I was too angry and too heartbroken to listen.

“Perhaps it doesn’t matter, as you say.  It’s nice to see you again, Andy.  Perhaps we will run into each other back home.  I would prefer to be friends, if that’s possible.”

I didn’t answer. Right then, I was still too wrapped up in the hurt it caused, and it dismayed me that it could so easily return, after all the effort of putting it behind me.

…

Ordinarily, when stuck next to someone you wish you weren’t, the flight took ten times longer. This one didn’t. She did not force any conversation, and thus we probably spoke briefly on three occasions.

I buried myself in a paperback book I’d picked up at the airport, and she just pretended to sleep.

After landing, she gathered together her belongings and left the plane. I preferred to wait until the hoards had fought their way off, everyone always in a hurry, and then took my time. I was the last passenger to leave the plane. By that time, the pilot had come out of the cockpit, and I thanked him for the smooth flight.

Daisy would be waiting for me, or at least I hoped she was, as I crossed the tarmac and switched my cell phone from aeroplane mode. As I reached the door into the terminal, there were two beeps, two messages. One from a co-worker wishing me a pleasant break, the other from Daisy saying she was inside, waiting.

When I scanned those who were waiting. I saw Josephine leaving with her mother, not looking back, and then Daisy, sitting in the departure lounge, reading a magazine. I travelled light and would not have to wait for the baggage to be unloaded.

She stood as I came up to her and gave me a hug. It was not the sort of hug you would get after a four-year absence.

“I saw Jo. Did you know…”

“Yes. I was sitting next to her.”

“Wow. That must have been some conversation.”

“Actually, it wasn’t. We probably exchanged a dozen sentences, and that was it. There was nothing to discuss.”

She gave me a look that told me that I had been a thorough bastard, and not for the first time.

“She told me what happened, Andy, and it wasn’t entirely her fault. You know what those girls were like. She just wanted to fit in, and they took advantage of it.”

“It’s done, and there’s no going back, Daisy. She will have moved on, as have I.”

Perhaps it was the way I said it, and I realised it would have been better to remain silent, but I didn’t.

“So, you still have feelings for her.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

…

It was an hour’s drive to the ranch, time enough to give me the Daisy version of everything that was happening. It was more direct than her weekly letters, at first, and then infrequent emails. Quite simply put, our father had lost any faith he had in his two younger sons, in taking over the management of the ranch, or in being reliable enough to be self-motivated in doing their chores. They would only do the jobs asked of them, but both shied away from accepting any responsibility.

Our father needed to know that someone was going to continue the legacy the family had built up over the last hundred years, and knowing there wasn’t going to be anyone meant he had to seek other solutions. He had finally accepted that he could not continue, so she said I needed to be prepared to accept that there will be hard choices to be made.

One of those included selling out. A reasonable offer had been made, and he was thinking about it.

I had never given a moment’s thought to the fact that there might not be a ranch to come home to one day, or that one day could be as soon as tomorrow.

It was a sobering thought.

The fact that he was getting older, the years of strenuous work, coupled with the stress of management, had all but broken him; he had to hire a manager and several extra staff, and in doing so, it had made the business side of things almost unviable.

Then there was the situation with our mother, who was not getting any younger either, and had suffered several falls that required hospitalisation, and then weeks of bed rest.

Daisy had chosen not to tell me about it in any of her communications in the past, but that, she said, was their decision. They had managed without me, meaning my presence would not make a difference, and I was expecting that I would be met with the same hostility as I had the last time I came home.

Or maybe it would be just indifference.

As we drove through the front gate, I asked, “Do they even know I’m coming home?”

I had told her, and thought she would pass it on. Now, judging from the expression on her face, I don’t think she had. My arrival was going to be like a hand grenade going off in a confined space.

…

Mother was sitting in a rocking chair on the front veranda when the truck pulled up at the bottom of the steps. I had seen her as we drove up, and she had aged visibly since I last saw her. She stood up and took a cane in her hand to steady herself.

I got out and stood by the door, looking up. The surprise, or perhaps shock, was clear. She had not known I was coming.

Perhaps it was better this way.

She waited until I walked up the stairs and then hugged me. Longer than I expected.

“It is good to see you, Andrew. I have been hoping you would come back, even if it was for a week or two. We all miss you terribly.”

It might not have been the consensus of opinions in that house, but for her, it was sincere and heartfelt.

She tepped back and looked me up and down.

“You are your father’s son, as I knew you would be. Your room has not changed, as much as those useless brothers of yours have tried. We could have arranged a proper homecoming if your sister had told us you were coming.”

“It’s better this way. It saves Dad from being angry for days in advance, and he can just explode when he sees me.”

I could imagine the look on his face, and Daisy was right not to tell them.

“Your father will be pleased to see you, Andrew. He has come to terms with your decision to leave, but like me, I know he wishes you would eventually return before it’s too late. If your sister hasn’t already told you, it might already be too late. We have received an offer, one that is too good to refuse. Matters for another time. Let’s go in, and I’ll get Martha to make some tea. I’m sure she will have some scones somewhere, and I’ll bet you have not been able to find any as good as hers, anywhere.”

“I have not.”

“Oh, and by the way, the offer was made by Josephine’s father, you know, the young lady you were involved with at school. Such a nice girl. They are coming here tonight to discuss the deal. Now you’re here, you might be interested.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2026