Her eyebrows raised in the slightest of movements. The facial shrug spoke volumes and said nothing all at the same time.

He gave her a wry smile—it was all he could rally. Sliding his own chair back, he got to his feet and followed his father out the door. If he was going to be home for a while—and he was—he had to get this tension cleared up before it destroyed everyone around them.

His breath curled heavily on the chill air as James exhaled. The crunch of snow under his boots was a welcome melody after the thick silence at the table. He shoved his hands into the warm pockets of his red-and-black checked jacket and trudged across the snow-packed earth to the back barn.

His father, handing some hay to the horses, didn’t acknowledge James’s arrival. His father had always been focused and meticulous when it came to tending his farm, but James wasn’t convinced the man’s mind was really on the horses. He wondered what thoughts passed through his father’s head…did he relive the fleeting moments with his wife? Think on what his children had become? Worry about the future of his grandchildren? Take pride in his farm, his well-cared-for animals, or his machinery? In the lonely recesses of his mind, did Glen Moore wander lost, all life bled from him the day his wife died?

So wrapped up in his own grief, James had never really considered his father’s emotions after Mom died. For the sake of family harmony, he needed to now. He shook off the lost feeling that engulfed him whenever his mother crossed his mind. His mother, so full of life, would probably be appalled at the silent, somber atmosphere that cast a pall over her family even to this day. She could coax anyone into feeling better. He didn’t have her sparkling personality, but James decided he’d have to do something about bringing life and hope back into her…his family.

Someone needed to make the first move towards reconciliation, and it obviously wasn’t going to come from the staunch and stubborn Glen Moore.

“Give you a hand with that?” James asked, keeping his tone level.

“I’m fine.” His father separated out some hay.

James waited a beat. Surely, the man would look up and acknowledge his only son.

He didn’t.

James heaved in a deep breath. The icy air might have chilled him if he weren’t already so emotionally frozen. “We just going to keep pretending like I’m not here, or are we going to talk about this?”

“I know you’re here. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. How about how much I’ve disappointed you over the years?”

A gust of wind whistled by, taking a dusting of snow with it. His father gently patted the horse’s muzzle and then pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket as he turned to face James. “I imagine whatever disappointment I’m feeling is nothing compared to what you’re going through and feeling about yourself right now.” He flipped open his lighter. The slight yellow flame flickered in the arctic breeze as the cigarette started to burn. His father exhaled smoke into the atmosphere. “So, I tell you what; you take care of you, and I’ll take care of me.” His left hand and the lighter disappeared into the pocket of his coveralls as he walked off.