Chapter 13

Asher cleaned up the broken cup around the trunk of the tree and threw it away before he got dressed for his run. As he took off down the long dirt road that led out behind his property along the banks of the small canal he thought about how different this was from running in town like he had when he was a kid. Back then he ran along sidewalks and past houses and stores and cars, or he ran around the stadium track at the high school. Out here on the farmland it was beautiful. The early morning June sun spread out across the open fields and gave them somewhat of an ethereal glow. The ruts and potholes that the weather and the farm trucks left in the dirt didn’t bother him. They only added to the challenge of the run he thought. In a few weeks the wildflowers would bloom across the open meadows and the slightly yellow grass would begin to turn green again. This was the one place where he felt like the past was behind him. He could breathe. He was free. He occasionally felt the pain in his hip where the bullet had torn through muscle and bone, but for the most part his legs burned to run. He ran fast and far and by the time he got home his lungs were on fire and he was exhausted, but it was a good tired. It was the kind of tired that would help him sleep through the night without dreaming. Without dreams there was no pain and no waking up screaming.

When he got home from his run he went into the garage and popped open the hood on his ’69 Mustang. Asher had bought it when he retired and returned home. It had been in bad shape and in major need of restoration. The good memories he’d had of his father all seemed to be around working on the Mustang together when he had been a kid. Working on this one helped him recapture some of those memories and good feelings. He had already replaced the engine and rebuilt the transmission. All he had left now were the small things like adding chrome and other little details. Today he was putting in new speakers he had ordered online. He flipped on the Bose speaker on the shelf behind him and as the sounds of Country music wafted out, he cleared his mind of everything except the Ford he worked on.

He didn’t know how much time passed before his cell phone started ringing. It took him several minutes to process what the sound was. He didn’t get many calls.

“Hi Asher, this is Lyle Kentworth.” Asher’s mind suddenly went to the worst case scenario. Something happened to Dean. Why would his father be calling him otherwise?

“Mr. Kentworth? Is Dean okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine Asher. I’m actually calling you in the capacity of your father’s attorney. I hate this part of my job. I’m afraid your father has passed away.”

Asher was silent. A flood of emotions swept through him. He was feeling so many all at once that he didn’t know which one to grab onto and he had no idea what to say. Guilt. That was the first one. He hadn’t seen his father for seventeen years. He had left right after his mother’s funeral. His father was drinking like a fish, committing slow suicide. Asher had been so angry with him and his father had been just as angry with Asher. Their rift had been too deep and Asher had been completely at a loss with how to repair it when he got out of the Army or even if he had wanted to. Instead he had just avoided it and now his father was dead. He had died alone.

“Um. Thank you for letting me know…”

“The funeral is Friday afternoon at two.”

Shit! Of course he would be expected to go to the funeral. He hadn’t been home in so long. He hadn’t seen anyone from there except Dean. When he had left they had all been so angry with him, even Mia. “Okay, thanks. I’ll see what I can do.” Before Mr. Kenworth could respond, Asher hung up. He stood there and stared at the wall for a long time. He thought he had his mind made up that he shouldn’t go. If his father was still alive and had a say in it, Asher was sure he wouldn’t want him there but he’s not alive. Fuck!

He turned towards the Mustang. For a minute he pictured himself as a fourteen-year-old kid. His father had been so excited the day he had brought home the old Mustang. Asher had been beside himself with excitement. His own car! A classic Mustang!

For the first time in his father’s life he had began to take more time off work so that he could rush home and work on the car with his son. They had shopped for parts together. They had looked through magazines together for ideas on interior and exterior colours. They had talked about chrome and wheels. They had bonded deeper than ever and when they had finished with it, they had something they could both be proud of. It had been a great feeling. Then, less than two years later his mother got sick and his father had started to drink. Asher had gone from a form of hero-worship of his father to a constant, seething anger that threatened to tear him apart.

Asher had been ashamed of him. He had thought he was weak. Now, seventeen years later he’d had to ask himself, who had his father have to talk to? Asher’s mother had been his father’s best friend. Lily was the one Greg had talked to about everything. When he lost his wife, he had also lost his best friend. Asher questioned whether or not he had been too hard on his father. At least he’d had his friends and Mia, mostly Mia. She had always been his rock throughout his mother’s illness. Maybe he should have tried being there more for his father instead of being so angry with him. Maybe. He was just so young and that was his only defence. He hadn’t known how to handle his mother dying. How was he supposed to understand the pain his father was going through?

Shit! The guilt was going to eat him up if he didn’t go to the funeral and at least show his father that much respect. He wondered if he was sick and alone before he died. Jesus! He had to go home. He couldn’t help but think about Mia again. Seventeen years is a lifetime. She was probably married by now with children. Fuck!

He picked up the phone and called Lyle Kentworth back. “Mr. Kentworth, it’s Asher. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be there for the funeral. Is there anything else I will need to take care of regarding the estate?” Asher had no idea if his father had a will or if Asher was even a part of it if one did exist. He would love to have some pictures of his mother, all of them really. He would love to have some of the good memories, before his mother had died and before his entire family fell apart.

“Yes. Come by my office after the funeral when you’re up to it and we’ll talk. There’s a lot to talk about.”

Asher wasn’t sure he liked the cryptic sound in Lyle’s tone, but he let it go for now. He went into the house and pulled out his green army duffle bag. He had been carrying the same one since boot camp seventeen years ago. It was faded and held scars from its many travels but like his dog tags, he was attached to it. It gave him a feeling of comfort. They were both part of a life where he felt he had purpose. At least for a while.

He finished packing and then showered. He dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans and put his dog tags on before grabbing the bag and his keys and heading out to the garage. Haddenfield was only a fourteen hour drive. He decided that instead of flying he would drive. It would give him time to mentally prepare himself for seeing everyone back at home.

As he drove he thought about Haddenfield. He wondered if the town had grown any. When he had left there were only nine thousand people living there. His parents and Mia’s parents had owned most of the property and real estate in town. Dean’s father and the Proctor’s had been pretty even split on the rest of it. The families had all been there since the beginning of the town. Until all the bad shit happened, it had been a great place to grow up.

A lot of the real estate his parents owned had been rented out to farmers and ranchers when Asher had lived there. His mother had had a special penchant for the ranches. They had been important to her father and she had been willing to lease them out, but never sell them. Most of the folks who had lived in town were employees of the ranches and the few restaurants and shops in the small town, or they taught at the schools or they were retired and settled in Haddenfield because it was a quaint, quiet little place. There had been a small hospital and medical clinic there too when he had left and a dentist and a few beauty and barber shops. Beyond that, they would go to the city which was almost an hour away for anything else they needed.

He wondered if Dean would be at the funeral. He had forgotten to ask Mr. Kenworth. Last time he had talked to him Dean was working in Sioux Falls North Dakota near the Minnesota border on some property development project there. He wasn’t married then and still didn’t have any kids. That didn’t surprise Asher. Dean was always kind of a Peter Pan. He refused to grow up. He was a hard worker, but once he was finished working for the day, it had always been about the party.

Asher’s mind then went to all the time he and Travis spent with Dean when they were kids. Dean was older and the two younger boys had thought they were so cool hanging out with him. Dean was a party guy but he had also been like a big brother to Asher and Travis. He took them fishing before they could drive and he taught them what he knew about girls. He pretended to know a lot more than he actually did, Asher knew now, but he treasured those memories. Travis and Asher had never been big drinkers like some teenagers, but if they had a few beers, it was usually with Dean. Even when he was drunk he never let them drink if they were going to drive. Asher knew that if Dean had been there the night he and Travis had been drunk; the accident would have never happened. Dean never would have let them leave. Asher wondered if things would have been different for him then. His father would have still known his secret and he would have still hated him but not Mia.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her now and wondering how she was doing. His beautiful Mia, who he never stopped loving. In the seventeen years since he had left Haddenfield, he had sex with countless women, but he had only been in what he would call a ‘relationship’ with two of them. He hadn’t been in love with either one. He had tried so hard to recapture the feeling that Mia had given him, but it was not just elusive, it was impossible. He had finally decided that she had been his one chance at love and since he messed that up, he was destined to be alone. She was undoubtedly still angry with him. She had loved her brother fiercely. Travis had been her hero and one of her best friends. Asher didn’t have any plans on trying to recapture anything with her. Even if she wasn’t married or with someone which was doubtful, he knew that she would be better off without him, she would have to be. He was already fucked up and there was no way he would put that on anyone else, especially Mia.

As he drove towards his past with the top down and the radio on he knew one thing was certain. This was a get in and get out mission. He would go to the funeral, see what he needed to do to wrap up the estate and head back to South Dakota and his safe haven. A week at best…