She had packed a suitcase for one week. But by the time she pulled into the ranch’s long driveway that led to the barn, she had decided she wasn’t going back to Denver. She got out of her car, and stood in the clear night air, the sky dappled with millions of points of light, the dusky smell of sagebrush and the dust that rose from her car’s tires. She no longer was angry with her father. In its place there was only regret, and a hope for some time to spend with him. Now ten years away from nineteen, she realized what a foolish mistake she had made, and how much it had cost her. She hoped it wasn’t too late, and that she could somehow find the words to tell her father how much she had missed him, and missed being home. She wondered when had she stumbled so far off track, and what it would take to find her way again.

She saw her father the next morning as she was making coffee. She had risen even before Mrs. Rodriquez arrived, the pinks, oranges, and purples of sunrise urging her out of bed.

“Don’t make that too strong, Jess. My stomach isn’t what it was.” Jed, now also a fading photograph, was leaning on the counter, smiling a weary smile at his daughter. She looked at him, his once tanned and leathery face now pale and wrinkled, took a deep breath and smiled back.

“Don’t worry, Dad, I can’t drink it that strong anymore either. I guess we’re both getting older.” Her eyes, cautiously meeting his, showed sadness he didn’t remember. He shuffled around the counter, hugged her close to him, his daughter, who was once again where she belonged.

“It’s good to have you home, Jessie.”

She held her body stiffly, even within his frail hug. She knew she should drop the anger she still felt toward him; it was a child’s anger. To carry it around while she reacquainted herself with him and the ranch would only make things more difficult. Part of her, the nineteen-year-old that tenaciously clung to the old betrayal, told her that she could let go once he apologized to her. Another part of her, a part that sounded suspiciously like Mrs. Rodriquez, said that twenty-nine years old is old enough to realize that her father had acted in the best interests of the ranch, not looking to hurt her. If he could forgive her ten years of being away, then she could forgive him his loyalty to the ranch. Sometimes being an adult was a pain in the ass, as one of her ex-boyfriends used to say. Right now, she would have agreed with him.

Right now, however, her father was making his way back around the counter, saying over his shoulder that he had to get ready for the day. The sight of his retreating back comforted and angered her, all in the same moment. She wondered if all daughters found their relationship with their fathers so confusing sometimes. Before she could get too caught up in her thoughts, Mrs. Rodriquez came into the kitchen.