Kathy Douglass - The Rancher's Return

So he’d quit his job on the ranch where he’d worked under a fake name for the past seven years. Though he liked Della and Gabe Turner, he didn’t give them the notice he would have if he were leaving for any other reason. He’d wanted to get home as soon as possible. He’d said goodbye to the men and women on the cattle ranch who had become his friends, loaded up his truck and driven east.

He checked his watch. Five fifty-eight. He’d been sitting in his truck for the past three minutes. Now that he was home, his knees felt weak and his heart thudded in his chest. He’d been in the area for almost ten minutes but he’d driven around trying to get rid of his sudden anxiety. He’d been fine as he’d driven Interstate 20 across several states. But as he’d crossed into North Carolina, he’d gotten anxious. The closer he got to home, the more jittery he’d become.

Dinner had always been at six o’clock in the Cordero home. Donovan’s mother had designated that hour as family time and it was sacred; Donovan’s father had never once been late, no matter how much work remained. So Donovan knew he was about to see both of his parents within a matter of minutes.

Breathing hard, Donovan got out of the car and sprinted across the driveway and up the stairs. Never in the nineteen years that he’d lived in this house had he rung the doorbell and it felt strange to do it now. But after being gone all these years, he didn’t feel right strolling into the house and asking what was for dinner. As the doorbell pealed, his heart sped up. He heard footsteps. As they got closer, his anticipation grew.

“Yes?”

At the sound of his mother’s beloved voice his eyes filled with tears. He looked through the screen door. “Ma?”

His mother gasped. Visibly shaken, she staggered back. For a second he thought she might pass out, but with a strength he remembered, she grasped the door and stared. Tears filled her eyes and ran down her smooth, brown cheeks. “Donovan. Oh, my sweet baby boy. You’re home. My baby boy is home.”

He yanked open the door and pulled his sobbing mother into his arms. “I’m home, Ma. I’m home.”

“Lena, who is that showing up at dinnertime?” Donovan’s dad asked, coming into the entryway.

Donovan looked up, not releasing his mother from their embrace. “It’s me, Dad.”

Donovan’s father stared at him for a moment. The look on his face was that of a man whose every dream had just come true. He gave a shout of joy then crossed the room in long strides, taking Donovan and his mother into his arms. “Son. You’re home. I’ve waited ten long years for this day to come.”

As the family hugged, a sense of relief and joy that had been a decade in the making filled Donovan. They held on to each other for long minutes before separating. They didn’t fully break contact but rather leaned on each other as they walked into the living room and sat on the familiar striped sofa his mother had fallen in love with on sight at the store.

Donovan took a quick look around the room. Everything was blessedly familiar. The furniture was in the exact same arrangement as it had been when he’d last seen it if a bit more worn. The same family photographs hung over the fireplace, freezing them in time.

“I knew you would come home,” his mother said, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with the hem of her white blouse. “Everyone told us that you were dead and that we needed to move on, but I knew better. I knew you were alive. A mother’s heart knows.”

“As does a father’s.”

Watery laughter burst from Donovan’s mouth. Mario Cordero had always insisted that a father could love just as strongly as a mother and that a dad possessed the same intuition when it came to his children.

“And you’re just in time for dinner.” Donovan’s mother rose and, grabbing his hand, led him to the kitchen.

After washing his hands, Donovan sat at the familiar table in his usual seat. There was something comforting about having everything the same as he remembered. His mother had made a roast with vegetables, one of his favorite meals. He had to admit that no matter what she’d made, he would have been ecstatic. Over the years he’d eaten at many tables, but nothing compared to sitting down at this scarred oak table again.

As they ate, they talked about everything and nothing. They were too emotional to have deep conversations and frequently wiped happy tears from their faces. When the meal had been eaten, they lingered into the night, sipping sweet coffee. Until finally they could no longer avoid the burning question that had so far gone unasked.

“Why did you leave, son?” Lena asked quietly, heartbreak and confusion in her voice.

Donovan had known this time would come. He’d prepared many answers that he hoped would satisfy them without bringing up the terrible past. Now that he was face-to-face with his parents, seeing the love in their eyes, he couldn’t lie to them. He respected them too much. Besides, after years of worry, they deserved the truth. “I saw something I shouldn’t have. A murder. The man who committed the crime threatened us and Raven if I didn’t leave town immediately. So I left.”

“Oh my God,” Lena whispered.

“Are you safe now?” Mario asked, rising. No doubt he was going for one of the guns he kept locked in a gun safe in his study.

“I believe so. The murderer is dead now.”

“I never heard anything about a murder back then.” Mario sank back into his seat. “Why didn’t you come to me? We could have gone to the sheriff.”

Donovan shook his head then stared at his father. “No, we couldn’t have.”

It only took a second for that to sink in.

“I always knew that man was a snake,” Mario said, anger filling his voice. “No wonder he died under suspicious circumstances three years ago. There’s no telling how many crimes he covered up.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Lena said, patting Donovan’s cheek like she’d done when he was a kid. “You’re home and that’s all I care about.”

Donovan knew that once the euphoria and shock of his return wore off, his parents would ask more questions. Even now Donovan sensed there was more his father wanted to ask but mercifully he held back. Emotionally drained, Donovan was grateful for the reprieve.

A somber feeling settled in the room, taking some of the glow from the earlier joy and excitement of Donovan’s return. A few minutes passed before Lena jumped up. “You must be tired. Your room is all set.”

Donovan was tired but he was much too keyed up to sleep. Nevertheless he followed his parents to his room. The door was closed but when he opened it, it was like stepping into the past. His room was exactly the way he’d left it. If not for the fact that he’d lived every single day, Donovan might have believed the past ten years had been a mirage. The only thing different was the bare mattress. His mother grabbed some sheets from the linen closet and headed for the bed.

“I can do that, Ma,” Donovan said, reaching for the sheets.

“I know you can. But I’ve come into this room for years, longing for the day you would return and sleep in this bed again. Let me make it for you.”

When she put it like that, there was no way Donovan could say no, so he stepped aside and let his mother put sheets on his bed. While she worked, he moved around his room, touching mementos from his youth. He’d never been especially neat, and everything remained as he’d left it. His computer was still centered on his desk, along with a comic book, open to the exact page where he’d stopped reading.

“Done,” his mother said, beaming at him.

“Thanks, Ma.” He pulled his mother into a tight hug then walked with her to the door. She hadn’t tucked him in since he was about seven or eight, but he could tell she would be happy to do so tonight if he’d let her. Instead he kissed her on her forehead and told her how glad he was to be home again. “See you guys in the morning.”