“When the pavilion was first built,” the man said, his voice booming over the loudspeaker system, “we were unfortunately unable to get in touch with any of the boy’s kin, so none of his family were here for that original dedication.” He glanced down at Henry and smiled. “But today, we are fortunate enough to have his father here with us.” He turned back to the crowd. “Friends and neighbors,” his voice rose slightly. “It is my great honor and privilege to announce the re-dedication of the Josh McBride Memorial 4-H Pavilion.”

The white cloth dropped away from the large green letters above the door that exposed Josh’s name, and Henry was once again overcome. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t hold back the tears, and this time, he wasn’t the only one crying. As Dan Folgelberg’s “Run for the Roses” began playing over the sound system, fathers and mothers, kids, couples and even grizzled old men were seen wiping tears from their eyes.

Jessie wrapped her arms around the speechless Henry as one by one, the people in the crowd came to him. Some folks simply touched him, others shook his hand or patted him gently him on the back, and still others told him how sorry they were for his loss. As the crowd moved past Henry and into the pavilion to see a display of 4-H projects from the last fifteen years, and start in on the potluck dinner, Leon Geyser stepped up. His face was leathery and his eyebrows were sprinkled with gray, but his was a welcome face in a sea of strangers.

“Jessie, here, told me a little about what you been through since you left, Henry,” Leon said kindly. “I’m real glad you was able to find your way back out of the wild.” He held out his hand, and Henry reached up and shook it. “Welcome back, old friend.” Leon smiled, kissed Jessie on the cheek and eased past the two of them, making his way into the pavilion.

As a small group of young, smiling 4-H children gathered around Henry, Jessie stepped back.

“Yes, Henry,” she said softly. “Welcome back.”