Page 19 of Home Changes
Seth knelt down in front of him. “It’s just soup, Pops. Chicken and rice.”
“I can feed myself,” Chester snapped, his voice low and rough. His hand trembled as he picked up the spoon.
Seth hesitated, then sat back on his heels. “Right. I’ll be here if you need me.”
Chester managed a few bites. Slow. Careful. After a moment, he set the spoon down with a quiet clink against the bowl. “Your mother used to make this kind of soup.”
“I know.”
Seth had watched her make it hundreds of times. He could make it in his sleep, but the diner’s was easier and tasted good.
They sat in silence again. Not the brittle kind they used to fall into, full of resentment and unsaid words. This silence was softer. Heavier. Sadder.
And on Seth’s end, it was more forgiving.
“Why’d you come back?” Chester asked suddenly, his voice quieter than before.
Seth looked at him. “Because you’re my dad.”
Chester gave a quiet grunt. He didn’t say more. But he didn’t need to.
As the sky outside the window turned gold with sunset and Gomer snored softly at Chester’s feet, Seth sat beside his father and let the quiet hold them both.
He realized then that the strife between them might never be resolved. But maybe that wasn’t the point anymore. Maybe now it was just about being here while there was still time left.
The next morning,Seth went out for a jog. He left Gomer in Chester’s room with his father, figuring he’d exercise the dog later, after taking him to see the vet about his arthritis.
He wasn’t gone long. Maybe thirty, thirty-five minutes, tops. But when he returned, the back door was wide open. Seth dropped the water bottle he’d been carrying, and it hit the porch with a dull thud.
His heart lurched. The kitchen was empty. Too quiet. The coffee pot sat cold and untouched. Chester’s mug was already in the sink, and it was clean.
“Dad?” he called out as he moved quickly through the kitchen. “Gomer?”
No answer.
Seth jogged through the house, calling louder this time. He checked the bathroom, then the spare room. Nothing. He ran outside. The barn was empty. Panic prickled under his skin, hot and cold all at once. He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. The early fall air had bite, and if Chester had gone out without his coat …
Seth bolted. It took him nearly ten minutes to find them.
Chester was walking straight into the pasture a mile down the dirt road. He was in sock feet and flannel pajamas. Gomer padded beside him, the big shepherd sticking close but looking backward toward Seth and barking.
That was what led Seth to them. God knew it would’ve taken twice as long without Gomer’s alert, loud and sharp in the morning quiet.
Chester had a bridle in one hand, his other swinging loosely at his side.
He kept calling out. “Dusty! Come on, boy! Dusty!”
Seth’s chest tightened. Dusty had been gone for more than ten years. Seth approached carefully, not wanting to startle him.
“Pops?” he said softly. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”
Chester turned toward him, squinting against the sun. “Where the hell is the horse? I can’t run the damn fence line without him.”
Seth exhaled slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Dusty’s gone, Pops. Remember? Besides, we’re not riding today. Come on. Let’s head back. We both need a cup of coffee.”
Frowning, Chester looked down at the bridle in his hand like it had betrayed him.
“Somebody took him. Iknowit.”
