She beams. “Oh, I’m certain of it, my dear.”
Fond Farewell
Marcel 1986
“Silas,get your tall butt over here and help me with this pitcher,” Ruth calls, her tone brisk but teasing under the weight that lingers in the room.
Silas chuckles and rises easily, plucking the pitcher from the cabinet without effort. Ruth pats his arm in thanks while I absently grab a carrot stick from one of the platters. The warmth of our gathering settles over me like an old quilt, comforting and heavy at once.
Silas, Eli and I had spent the day going over ledgers and clearing out the office. Caroline and Ruth went to town and had lunch at the diner. I came over to Ruth’s early to help her put the leaf in her table and polish her silver while everyone fussed over getting ready for the evening.
Now, we’ve come together for one last Sunday dinner at Ruth’s house—a final meal before Silas and Caroline leave us. Their time here is slipping away, the Good Shepherd calling them home to their son, Kiran, who waits in Heaven. None of us speaks it aloud, but we all feel it. It lives in every glance, every hug that lasts a little too long, every word that trails into silence.
Dinner is threaded with sorrow and laughter. We tell stories, retrace memories. Silas as a boy, later when he fell for Caroline,the day Kiran was born. I’d been there for it all, unseen in those years, watching from the edges. Silas and Caroline never knew, not until the fire took the main house and their sight changed to meet mine.
Eli and Ruth have always known spirits. They’ve seen what lies beyond. Eli recognized me the first time he set foot on the ranch in the sixties. A fair manager, steady like Frank Hayes had been. Talking with him brought me back to life in a way. I was no longer just a shadow, but someone seen again.
When the plates are cleared and the last glasses emptied, the goodbyes begin. They haven’t said when they’ll go, but we all know it’s soon. Too soon.
Ruth folds Caroline into her arms. “Sleep well, dear. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Caroline nods against her shoulder, eyes wet. Her voice cracks. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
Ruth studies her face, and she knows. Slowly, she lets go, turning to Silas. A tear slides down her cheek. “Enjoy the twilight, Silas. Be safe going home.”
Silas covers her hands with his own. “We will. Thank you for everything.” His voice wavers. “We’ll see you soon.”
Ruth swallows hard, twisting her fingers. “Say hello to Kiran for me, will you?” She glances between them. “If I don’t see you tomorrow.”
Caroline leans closer to her husband, his hand brushing her cheek. “We will, Ruth. And if we don’t see you tomorrow…we love you.”
Ruth pulls a handkerchief from her pocket, blotting her cheeks, her voice trembling. “Save a place for me?”
Silas offers her a tender smile, full of promise. “You know we will.”
Eli lays a hand on his sister’s arm, his quiet strength fraying at the edges. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”
She nods quickly. “Yes. Tomorrow.”
We step into the cool night, our footsteps slow, the silence between us heavy. We’re almost at the truck when Ruth calls out, “I love you all.”
The replies echo back to her in unison. She presses a hand to her heart and disappears inside, the door closing softly behind her.
Sunlight spills through my window,dragging me from sleep. My head throbs with the ghost of last night’s whiskey, but the day waits for no one. I rise, bare feet against cool wood, and carry myself to the washroom. A hot shower, a clean shave—just enough to make me feel whole again.
In the kitchen, I expect the usual morning clatter. Instead, silence greets me. Heavy. Still. Eli sits at the table, hands wrapped around a mug.
“They left last night,” he says, voice low, as if speaking makes it real. He gently sets his coffee cup on the table with a soft thud.
I sit beside him, the realization settling deep. “They’re with Kiran now. Together again. Away from pain. Away from this world’s chaos. Free.”
Eli nods, gaze distant. “You’re right. It’s just…going to be quiet around here.”
I stand and pour myself a coffee. The scent does little to soothe me. “Guess that means you’re back to cooking.”
He huffs out a tired chuckle. “Not exactly the work I want to do.” He studies his mug. “Been thinking about changes. The ranch is mine now. Silas left it to me. That means I carry his load. I’m too old to keep running with the herd. Isaac’s ready. I’m thinking of putting him in charge.”
I nod, clapping his shoulder. “Good choice. The men listen to him. He’s ready.”
