Page 68 of Finding Home

This time, every adult collectively wilts for the poor kid. Aubrey told me they had a small memorial for Claudia here in Prairie Springs, a few days after she and Raine arrived. But I can’t imagine Raine remembers that or even understood what it meant at the time. Surely, only the passage of time and the continued absence of her beloved mommy have helped her begin to comprehend the absolutism of it all. The hard, cold reality that Mommy’s not at work. Mommy’s not at the store. Mommy is simply gone, forever.

I touch Raine’s soft head. “Of course, you can say goodbye to your mommy in heaven, while Auntie Miranda and I say goodbye to ours. I think that’s a great idea.”

“And den Mommy come back?” Raine asks hopefully, looking up at me.

My shoulders droop, along with my spirit. “No, my love. Your mommy and mine are both in heaven, forever. But they still love us and watch over us, all the time.”

“Oh,” Raine says sadly, bowing her little head.

“You know what I think?” Aubrey interjects. “I think your mommy and Daddy’smommy are having fun together in heaven. I think they have tea parties together, and they feed ducks and play barn all the time. But only when they’re not busy watching over you from a cloud and giggling about how much fun you’re having down here.”

Raine contemplates that briefly, before murmuring softly, “I luh Mommy.”

The comment isn’t accompanied by tears. It’s not the catalyst for a meltdown. It’s a simple, and heartbreaking, statement of fact.

“I love your mommy, too,” Aubrey says. “So, so much.”

“So do I,” I say. “We all do.” I’ve never thought that before, let alone said it. But suddenly, I realize something big: if Raine loves someone, then I do, too. It’s as simple as that.

The sound of tires traversing nearby gravel attracts everyone’s attention; and when I turn my head, I clap my palms in celebration. The sparkling new truck I ordered from Billings has arrived with a sedan trailing behind, and now it’s coming to a stop alongside the house.

As I head over to Joe at the table and grip the top of his shoulder, everyone around me, including Joe, says some version of “Who’s that?”

“You like that new truck, Joe?” I ask. “It’s pretty cool, eh?”

“Looks like Big Betty’s great grandchild.”

“It is. The exact same make and model, only new and shiny, with all the bells and whistles.”

“You’ve got good taste. You’re gonna love driving it.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” I say with a smirk. “It’s foryou,Pop-Pop.”

Joe’s jaw drops. “What?”

“To thank you for helping me with the deck.”

Joe shakes his head, flabbergasted. “Caleb,no.”

“I won’t take no for an answer. You wouldn’t take my money, so you’re getting a brand-new truck, and that’s that.”

“I can’t—I can’t accept it.”

“Shoot. I guess I’ll have to donate it to a charity, then, because I can’t return it and I certainly don’t want it.” I chuckle at the tortured expression on Joe’s face. “Come on, Joe. Let’s go check it out, at least. You can do that for me, right?”

Joe looks at his wife, and she moves her head as if to say, “Go on.”

As Joe gets situated on his crutches, I say, “I wouldn’t have finished the deck without you. And even more importantly, I wouldn’t have known how to be a good father to Raine, if it wasn’t for you. The way I see it, a new truck was the least I could do.”

“Aw, Caleb.” Joe’s eyes have filled with tears. He motions to me like a toddler begging to be picked up, and I give him a bear hug, taking care not to topple him over on his crutches.

“Thank you so much,” Joe says into my shoulder. “But I’ll only accept the truck, if you agree to take Big Betty in exchange. Aubrey told me you love driving her.”

He’s not wrong about that. I love driving that big, old truck. It makes me feel like a real Montana Man, just like my grandpa. “I tell you what,” I say. “If I wind up keeping this place, then I’ll absolutely take Big Betty off your hands. Come on now. Let’s go check out your new wheels.” I call to Aubrey. “A-Bomb, will you do me a favor and bundle up Raine for the boat? This will only take a couple minutes.”

Aubrey looks a bit deflated, and I’m not sure why. But when her father speaks, I think I understand.

“Youstillhaven’t decided to keep this place, huh?” Joe asks, as we slowly make our way toward the truck. “I’m surprised. Seems like you’re right at home here.”

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