CHAPTER TWO
Present day…
The blue and white aluminum sign declaring Blyth Lake had a population of two thousand, three hundred, and four citizens had seen better days. The anodized metal was faded from exposure to endless days of sunshine, not to mention the dents on the sides from all the beer cans that had been thrown at it. It didn’t help that the once-white letters had blurred to the point of appearing almost unreadable.
None of that mattered, though.
The old town’s welcome post signified home.
Noah Kendall resisted the urge to drive through the small town to see what had changed and what still remained the same as it had for his entire life. He’d been born and raised in Blyth Lake, second to the youngest of the five notorious Kendall children. There was something to be said about returning to one’s roots, and the warm memories began to filter back one by one as he noted different landmarks.
Damn, it was good to be home.
He rolled the windows down on his late model black F150, allowing the warm summer air to fill the cab with a bouquet of familiar scents. The faint breeze brought with it the light fragrances of honeysuckle and lilacs. The two old oak trees on either side of the upcoming four-way stop had matured over the years, but the vibrant flowers and plants surrounding the thick trunks remained the same as they had always been.
It was clear to him that Ms. Barmore must still oversee the town’s formal landscaping. She always did have a thing for honeysuckle and lilacs.
Noah pulled his truck to a stop at the first intersection and rested his fingers on the turn signal, giving it a second thought. The urge to drive straight ahead was there, but he did what was expected of him and flipped up the lever to indicate his left turn.
Family came first.
Family was everything.
His father, Gus Kendall, was without a doubt waiting for him at the family home.
This homecoming was bittersweet. It would be only the second time Noah returned to Blyth Lake that his mother, Mary Kendall, wouldn’t be standing on the front porch with open arms. The first time Noah had returned to town without his mom greeting him had been three years ago for her funeral. It was then that his brothers and sister decided maybe it was time to come home once their commitments ran their course.
Noah turned onto First Street and then continued straight until the road unceremoniously turned into a gravel driveway that led toward his dad’s place. The only marker that denoted the property line was the mailbox and the newspaper tube bolted to the pole underneath.
Gus had adamantly refused to sell the twenty acres of land after his wife died. He claimed that wasn’t what she would have wanted. He was right, but that didn’t mean his children wouldn’t worry about him living a mile outside of town.
All of that would change now that they were all returning to their home of record.
Home of record was a military term; one of the first that a recruit learned when he or she joined the service. Anyone who enlisted in any of the services had to go to a city upstate where they had a place called MEPS. The Military Entrance and Processing Station (MEPS) was where one got all the paperwork done and, of course, the physical examination.
Each of his siblings would all be returning at staggered times, but that conclusion of their combined exodus would be reached within a year’s time. Continuing the family legacy of serving their country had been important to all of them and instilled a sense of what was important in this life—God, family, country, and service.
The song on the radio cut off as the Bluetooth system was activated by his phone. He pressed the button on his steering wheel to accept the call, surprised at the name displayed on the screen.
“Mitch, is everything okay?” Noah asked as he slowed the truck down to compensate for the loose gravel drive. Why was his brother calling? Mitch was the oldest sibling of the Kendall clan. He also didn’t let any of them forget that little known fact, either. “Aren’t you still in Afghanistan?”
“I’m actually in CONUS as of zero four hundred this morning. I know it’s the big day for you, so I was just checking in. How does it feel to be a lowlife civilian puke again?”
“It’s too early to tell.” Noah didn’t believe for a second that Mitch was calling to check in. It wasn’t unheard of for all his brothers to go months on end without touching base with one another. Their sister, Gwen, was a little different. She made it a point to reach out to them at least once a month, if not once a week. “I’m pulling up the drive now. Is there something I should know? Dad isn’t the type to organize a lame ass party, so what am I missing?”
“You always were the suspicious one.” Someone yelled Mitch’s name in the background, so it didn’t surprise Noah when his oldest brother took the out. “I’ve got to run, but tell Dad I’ll call him later this week to see if you are assimilating back into the local tribe. I still need to schedule my TAP class, but I’m hoping to be home by the holidays with all my accumulated terminal leave.”
“Have fun with that shit,” Noah muttered, having already taken the class for the transition assistance program. The class was designed to help service members better acclimate to civilian life. “Word of advice, don’t piss off the instructors. They’re all retired Sergeant Majors. They’ve got some good gouge. They haven’t forgotten where they came from.”
It wasn’t hard to miss his brother’s laugh before the line disconnected. Noah had a bad rap for pissing off his instructors, and it was truly undeserved. It wasn’t his fault that his fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Cutler, sat in gum. He had fully intended to throw it away in the garbage can after recess was over.
His mother’s favorite pine trees came into view, bringing a smile to his face. The full-bodied pines were planted on both sides of the gravel lane. She always said they reminded her of the holidays. It wasn’t long before a two-story yellow house came into view with a wrap-around porch.
His dad had maintained the upkeep on the property pretty well, which couldn’t have been easy at his age. The large pole barn to the right was where Gus had his workshop. His handmade furniture was well-prized throughout the area. The small business had been lucrative enough to keep his five children in clothes, put food on the table, and have a little left over for life’s amenities.
Noah pulled his truck onto the concrete slab to the right of the house, right next to the old basketball court. A glance out the passenger side window showed the man himself.
Gus Kendall was larger than life, as always.
No one would have ever been able to tell that he was sixty-three years of age except the family doctor. He had developed heart problems in his early forties and he’d had a heart attack at the age of fifty-six. That only added on to the numerous reasons why it was time for the family to come together and help shoulder the load.
Gus allowed the screen door to close slowly behind him as he walked to the top of the three wooden steps that matched the color of the house. It wasn’t lost on Noah that Gus had taken up his wife’s post without her favorite dishtowel in hand. It was bittersweet, but this was the best homecoming he could have asked for.
“Welcome home, son.”
Noah met his dad at the bottom of the steps. There was nothing sweeter than to hear those three words. It suddenly became hard to swallow, so he remained silent and held out his hand. His father took it and then pulled him close. They held each other a few seconds longer than they usually did, but Noah didn’t doubt they were each thinking of the same woman.
“It’s good to be home, Dad,” Noah replied once he found his voice. He pulled away, surprised when his dad clapped him on the back and maintained his hold as they walked up the stairs. The workshop was where he was always most comfortable. “Don’t tell me you made lunch.”
“Why make lunch when Annie’s Diner is a mile down the road? Her meatloaf always did rival your mother’s, God rest her soul.”
Noah walked in the house behind his dad, noticing that not a picture or piece of furniture was out of place. Nothing had changed since Mary Kendall had been laid to rest. The wall leading up the staircase was lined with family photographs, her lace doily was still draped over the dining room table, the china cabinet still held her grandmother’s tableware, and the interior still held a scent of freshly picked lilacs filling the vase on the dining room table.
His mother’s presence hung in the air, and it was a welcoming embrace.
“Mom always did say you had a crush on old Ms. Osburn,” Noah laughed, knowing full well his dad never had a stray thought in his head when it came to his wife. Besides, Ms. Osburn had to be in her eighties by now. “You mentioned in our last phone conversation that she’d retired. Who is running the diner nowadays?”
Noah followed his dad through the long foyer that hosted an entryway table his dad had made in the workshop out back a decade or two ago. Pretty much the entire house was filled with furniture made by his father. The kitchen table was more solid than any other table anyone could find in any furniture store. It had survived five children for thirty-four years.
He recounted, just to be sure he was right. Yes, Mitch was thirty-four years old and Lance was the youngest at twenty-nine. Noah shook his head in astonishment as to the strength his mother had to have in birthing five children in five years.
“Annie’s daughter, Cassie, is currently running the diner. And let me tell you, she learned right quick that her fancy city dishes weren’t going to cut it here in Blyth Lake,” Gus grumbled as he poured two cups of coffee in the same mugs that had been in the cupboard since Noah was a little boy. “Meat and potatoes have always been the staple of a healthy living here in the Midwest. Speaking of which, I bought us some ribeye steaks to grill out tonight with a couple of spuds. I’ve got to say, it’ll be nice having all you kids home.”
“That reminds me. Mitch called.” Noah looked out the kitchen window, catching sight of the tire swing still attached to the large maple tree out back. He’d fallen off it many times, but only once had he required stitches after ramming it into the tree. That was all because of a dare Mitch had made that Noah couldn’t get it to spin the fastest. “He’s stateside and thinking he should be home for the holidays.”
“That’s better than he first thought. Lance is thinking he’ll be home next month, and then Gwen the month after.”
Gus brought both mugs over to the kitchen table before pulling out a chair. He motioned for Noah to do the same, but he shook his head at the offer. He needed to stretch his legs after such a long drive.
“Are you sure you’re ready to have the house overflowing with all us kids again?”
Noah was only half-kidding. Only one of them was certain as to what their future held. That was Gwen. She’d served in the Navy and had gotten out around four years prior. She finished her bachelor’s degree within two years and was a very successful personal financial advisor. She’d already scoped out an office on Main Street, right next to the only bank in town.
“About that,” Gus started to say before pausing, settling himself in the same chair he used at every meal. The seat was positioned at the head of the table, but it also provided him a view of the entire kitchen. Noah hadn’t understood it as a boy, but the military had ingrained a specific conduct in his father that had saved countless lives—never expose your back. “Take a seat, son. There’s something we need to discuss.”
Noah’s initial reaction was to refuse. Nothing good ever came from when his father uttered the words take a seat, son. Memories from when he borrowed the truck or when he had stolen a beer out of the refrigerator on one of Lance’s dares came to mind. Come to think of it, the majority of the shit he got himself into came from dares his brothers had dreamed up.
“Is everyone alright?”
Noah took his time crossing the kitchen tile. He wasn’t in any hurry to receive another blow. The news of his mother’s death had been more than enough.
“Everyone is fine.” Gus lifted a keyring off the kitchen table and took his time removing one of the keys off the metal sphere. It was then Noah noticed a gleam of excitement in his father’s eyes, along with what appeared to be sorrow. “Do you remember your grandfather?”
“Grandpa Earl? Sure, I do,” Noah replied, recalling his mother’s father giving all the boys a silver dollar when he walked into the house every Sunday afternoon for dinner. Gwen always received two dollars, which she took great pride in rubbing in her brother’s faces. “I must have been, what? Ten years old when he died?”
“That sounds about right.” Gus finally worked the key off the silver ring. He set it on the table and slowly pushed it toward Noah. It couldn’t have been a key to the house, because he already had one. “Earl and I sometimes didn’t quite see eye to eye on things, though I respected the man for who he was.”
“You mean the time he wanted to buy you and Mom a new vehicle when the truck broke down?” Again, there were certain things a young boy didn’t understand until he was older. His father was a very proud man. He supported his wife and family without any help from others…including family. “It took you two days to fix that old Ford. Mitch had to walk to and from football practice on his own.”
“It did him good,” Gus said gruffly, emotion heavy in his tone. He gestured toward the key, still on the table. “Anyway, your grandfather left a sizable inheritance for your mother when he passed. We never touched a penny of it. It sat in the bank collecting interest until just before your mother’s passing.”
“Wait,” Noah directed, thinking back to when his mom and uncle went months without speaking to one another. “Is that why Uncle Jimmy stopped coming to Sunday dinner?”
Noah had always assumed it was too hard on Jim Webb to be surrounded by family when he didn’t have one of his own. Losing Grandpa Earl had been difficult on everyone.
“That about sums it up. Your uncle was cut out of Earl’s will because of how he disgraced the family name.” Gus took a drink of his coffee, taking his time to formulate an answer. Noah braced himself, never liking family secrets. The last one had been finding out that Uncle Jimmy had done a stint in jail. “It all stemmed from when your uncle stole some valuables from your grandparent’s house instead of telling them he needed the money. It only got worse when Jimmy refused to get help for his drinking problem.”
Jim Webb had always been the black sheep of the family, but Noah felt for the man. Living in Grandpa Earl’s shadow couldn’t have been easy.
“Your mother never doubted that each of you boys would return home at some point in your lives.” Gus set his mug down on the table with a smile. “Mary wasn’t so sure about Gwen, though. That girl never did like being smothered by you boys when it came to her boyfriends.”
“Gwen doesn’t seem to have a problem being the one to suffocate us,” Noah reminded his dad wryly. “Have you received your monthly call?”
“She rings me weekly,” Gus answered with a smile, the pride for his daughter shining through. “I don’t want you ruining this moment for the others, so keep that in mind the next time she calls you.”
“Ruin what?”
“Your mother bought each of you a parcel of property here in Blyth Lake.” Gus leaned forward and planted an elbow on the table. He tapped the key with his other hand. “She used the money from her inheritance to buy you a home. You got the old Yoder farm. Having you all come home was her final wish, son.”