He decided to stay in the area. He told himself it had nothing to do with Maggie. He still had the carpentry job up the valley to finish, and he'd promised to fix that farmhouse. A man keeps his word. One night, late, Maggie saw a light on in the shed.
She found Isaac bent over a small wooden bed, sanding the edges with care. You're still up? Couldn't sleep. He ran his hand over the wood. It's for Rose.
She's getting too big for the basket. The little bed was simple but beautifully made. Every corner rounded off so the baby couldn't get hurt. I've got an old crib put away, she offered. It was Jesse's.
You could borrow it. Thank you, but I'd rather make it. He smiled a little. Keeps my mind busy. A few days later, she saw he had started on another bed, a bigger one.
"Who's that one for?" She asked, puzzled by the size. "Jesse," Isaac said without looking up. "I noticed he's still sleeping in that little crib. He's getting too big for it.
A boy that size deserves a real bed. That wasn't part of the deal." Isaac stopped working and looked at her. I know. It was the first thing he had done on that farm that wasn't paying off a debt, and they both knew it.
Sam noticed the house was changing fast, too fast. One afternoon, while Isaac was finishing the porch, the boy asked out of nowhere, "When you finish everything, are you leaving?" Isaac stopped with a board in his hands. He didn't lie to the child. "That's what I agreed with your mama."
Sam didn't say anything. He got up off his crate and stomped into the house. At the end of that same week, a car appeared on the road. A silver sedan, dusty from the gravel, slowing down and pulling up right in front of the gate. Sam, who was playing in the yard, recognized it before anyone else.
He dropped his toy truck and took off running. Daddy, daddy. Maggie was coming up from the garden with a basket full of collared greens when she saw who it was. The basket slipped out of her arms and the greens scattered across the dirt. Travis stepped out of the car with two shopping bags in his hands and an awkward smile on his face.
He was thinner, his city clothes all wrong against the red clay of the yard. Sam reached him first and threw himself at him. Travis dropped the bags, crouched down, and wrapped the boy in a fierce hug. And it was that hug that disarmed Maggie. For months, her son had sworn, chin held high, that he didn't need his father anymore, that he didn't even care.
Seeing him now, arms locked around Travis's neck, sobbing with happiness, she realized it had all been a lie. Sam still wanted his daddy back. He always had. He'd just been protecting himself the same way she had. "Look at you, buddy," Travis said, his voice catching.