Page 5 of Return To You

“I bet you’re great at it.”

I nod. “I am.” I’m fucking great at it. No reason not to say it.

I’m proud of what I’m doing. I’ve always wanted to do the right thing. To have an impact. That’s why I joined the Air Force.

“No way you could do that with the Green Mountain Boys, huh?’ she asks, referring to the Air National Guard in Burlington.

Dad does the chin lift.

“Nah, they specialize in combat. Look, end of the day, I’ll go where I’m needed. I can tell you as much, I won’t be needed here.” My last words ring awkwardly, at least to me. I don’t know if Mom and Dad ever fully understood why I left, back in the day. How I felt I had let my family down, messed up so spectacularly I had no other option than to leave and enlist in order to finally do something useful. I’ve come around since then.

Mom stands and gathers our empty glasses. “Well, Hulbert would be stupid not to hire you,” she says before going back inside.

The landline trills, then Mom’s distant voice reaches us.

Dad crosses his arms and squints at me. “Proud of ya. Even if Florida is… kinda far.”

“Same time zone. And I’d have a guest room.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Florida. For your mother’s birthday.”

I tilt my head and smile. “Florida in January. You gotta admit. Better’n Vermont.”

“Warmer,” Dad concedes.

That afternoon, I join my siblings—Justin, Haley, Logan, and Hunter—at Clark’s Meadow, where the town fair is being held this upcoming weekend. Everyone who can is helping to set up tents. My brothers and sister throw themselves at me, and before I can get too emotional, I ask them what to do.

We end up erecting tents for hours, setting up a base for bleachers that haven’t been delivered yet, and lining up porta-potties.

I make it sound like it was a pain in the neck, but honestly? Best fun I’ve had in years.

We get home just in time for my brothers to take care of a few chores while Mom makes a fuss about settling me in the new guest room they arranged in the finished basement.

My childhood bedroom has been turned into an office. The pine shelf running across the small end of the room where I had my trophies and my favorite books is now stacked with accounting binders. With the way I left, I’m not going to ask where my stuff is.

When I get out of the shower, the waft of pot roast hits a tender spot. I surprise Mom in the kitchen, grab her from behind and give her a quick hug. “You remembered that’s my favorite dish, or is that your Wednesday night special?”

“It is not a Wednesday night special.” She turns to face me, her eyes misty. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it.

“I’ll set the table,” I say to clear the moment. I need to occupy myself or else stuff is going to start choking me. Stuff like missing books and pot roast and how some things change—like people—and others never do—like feelings.

Haley joins us, followed by Justin. His huge dog, Moose, sprawls with a sigh on the porch as we take our seats around the farmhouse table. The whole King family is around the table for the first time in a very long time.

“So,” Justin says once we start digging in our heaping plates, “How long you here for this time?”

I finish my mouth, wipe my lips, rinse the pot roast with beer. “It’s kinda open right now. Don’t have a timeline yet.”

Mom gasps, Haley freezes with her glass of wine midair, and my three brothers stop their chewing.

Dad rubs his nose. “You can stay here as long as you like. I’ll keep you busy.”

I know what he means. He’s disappointed I never considered working on the farm, but I think—I hope—deep down he understands where I’m coming from. The need to be useful in a grand way.

Mom shrieks and drops her fork. “Ohmygod, my baby is staying!” she says and for some reason, everyone laughs.

“Mom—I just said, I didn’t know how long I was staying.”

Mom waves my comment away. “That’s a good start. A very good start.”

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