Christian Fiction Author
Shawn worked with a vengeance as he cleaned out the stalls in the barn. Seeing Dylan again brought back memories of the last day they had talked and he was still infuriated, so much so that he suddenly threw the shovel against the wall.
“That didn’t work well for you when you were ten, it won’t help much now.”
Shawn heard Pa behind him and took a moment to take a deep breath. He was ashamed at being caught venting his anger. As he bent down to pick up the shovel, he masked his feelings and managed to grin at Daniel.
“Still makes me feel a bit better.”
Daniel propped a foot up on a milk stool. “Tell me what’s going on. Something’s been brewing in you since Dylan left.”
But Shawn shook his head. “Can’t, Pa. It’s between Dylan and me.”
“And maybe the Blackmores?”
Shawn hesitated. Pa always seemed to know what was in his mind. Did he know what had happened?
“What do you mean?”
“Look, son, I don’t want to pry. You’re a man now and have to work these things out, but I want you to know that Mama and I are here for you if you want to talk, and you know we’re praying for you. The only way to get through whatever is troubling you is to take it to the Lord.”
Shawn’s sigh was indication of his remorse.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to your thoughts, but Dylan wanted me to tell you something.”
Shawn crossed his arms in front of him, waiting.
“He said to tell you he didn’t mean it.”
Daniel waited a moment to see if Shawn had anything to say, but when he kept silent, Daniel turned to the house.
“Supper will be soon. Thanks for all you worked on today, Shawn. I really appreciate you.”
Part of Shawn wanted to race after Pa and tell him he was sorry for the way he was acting, but the other part wanted to turn away from the kindness he was being shown and dwell on his anger.
He knew he was wrong.
He looked at the house where the lamps had been lit. No electric lights had made their way into the old farmhouse yet, and he was kind of glad about that. Things were changing too much, too quickly. He could see Mama move about in the kitchen, laughing as she looked over her shoulder, probably talking to Dylan.
He couldn’t go in there.
He couldn’t sit across the table from Dylan and act like everything was all right between them.
He looked around the barn and then down at his dirty work clothes. He couldn’t go anywhere like this, but he had to get away.
It was time.
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Copyright 2011 Margo Hansen. All rights reserved.