Page 78 of Reckoning

They stopped twice for pit stops, and the closer they got, the more elated his mother became. By the time they crossed into White County, where Sparta was located, Abel and Lilith were pointing out landmarks and bemoaning the downfall of others. The only signs of where some of the old homes and farms once existed were the barns, most in disrepair but still standing.

The geography wasn’t unfamiliar to Tate. It was green like Star Ridge. All mountains and rivers, cascades and waterfalls, and homes up in the woods, while other homes stood on the grassland of working farms all nestled in the hills above the city of Sparta.

Tate thought about his mom and dad’s people and was beginning to wonder why his parents ever left if they were this excited to be back. He closed his eyes and saw Briar as she’d been when he left her and ached from the memory of making love.

“Oh, Tate! We’re almost there!” Lilith said. “Micah said everybody would be waiting for us. Even your granny and granddad Barton. I feel like a child again…wanting my mommy and daddy. I haven’t hugged my mama since we left.”

“Why didn’t they come to us? Why didn’t we ever visit?” Tate asked.

Lilith shrugged, but it was Abel who answered. “Our people don’t leave the mountain much, and we didn’t visit because your mama knew if we ever left Star Ridge, we’d never go back. And everything that mattered to you was in Star Ridge. So, we stayed.”

Tate exhaled slowly, letting the words settle within him. “Then your exile is almost over.”

Lilith smiled. “It’s a bittersweet time for your daddy and me, because when we leave Star Ridge, we lose the son who sleeps down our hall to the man he has become.”

Tate heard the sadness in her voice and knew it as the longing every mother has when a child grows up and moves away.

“You can’t lose me, but you will lose sight of me, just as Briar will. But you and Dad and Briar are home. Not a house. Not a town. You three are my touchstones. I couldn’t be me if it wasn’t for all of you. But I’m not gonna lie. Coming here by request is a bit tense. Makes me feel like I have to pass muster.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Abel said, then pointed at a big two-story white house with a wraparound porch and a big rock chimney rising above the top story. “There’s Granny Barton’s old house. Looks well-kept. Wonder who’s living there now?”

Tate glanced at it, then stared. That was the house he saw they would live in, in his vision, but he kept it to himself. When they saw Micah signaling a turn off the main road, it was the signal they’d reached their destination.

* * *

The Hall had been the gathering place for generations. It was a large single-story building in need of a paint job, built like a rectangular gymnasium. It was daunting for Tate to see the parking lot full of so many cars and trucks and know everyone inside had come to meet him. As a child, he’d never felt notably different despite his gift. But the older he got, the more separated he became from the local population. Being welcomed into the midst of strangers was a whole new experience.

“The Hall hasn’t changed a lick, has it, honey?” Abel said.

“Not from the outside it hasn’t,” Lilith said, then turned and smiled at Tate. “This is the local gathering place for church, weddings, funerals, and parties. There’s a cemetery about a quarter of a mile that way,” she added. “Come on, son. Come meet your people.”

Tate got out and stretched, then caught up with his parents as they headed toward Micah, who was waiting for them at the door.

He saw the look on Tate’s face and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. “It’s all good, Tate. Your name is money on this mountain.” He led the way inside.

It appeared everyone had been watching for their arrival, because as soon as they crossed the threshold, the room went silent. Everybody there knew where Micah had gone, and why. And they immediately recognized Abel and Lilith. But it was the tall young man with black hair blocking out most of the doorway who they’d been waiting to see. Tate Bandy. The latest son to be born with the knowing.

Tate watched the crowd part to let three men through. Micah touched Tate’s shoulder. “Those are your elders. The ones like you, who sent me to issue your invitation.”

At that point, everyone in the room faded into the background. Tate saw an old man with snow-white hair and a beard to match, steadying himself with a cane. That had to be his great-grandfather, Ethan.

He recognized his grandfather, Wesley, and his uncle, Joseph, from his parents’ family pictures. But it was the expectation on their faces, the welcome he felt in their hearts, and the energy they held within a space that gave the word “kindred” a whole new meaning.

They surrounded him with handshakes and manly pats on the back, but he knew when they put their hands on him that they were “seeing” him, in the same way he would see.

“My great-grandson has a good heart,” Ethan said.

“And honor,” Wesley added.

But it was Joseph who stayed silent the longest before he spoke. “Your knowing is powerful. Your choice to take this out into the world is a brave one. Maybe it was meant for you to be born off this mountain, away from the clan we are. In this way, you already have a deeper understanding of the suffering in this world, and the need for help when it’s most needed.”

“We honor your path, and your parents’ personal sacrifice to let you become who you are,” Ethan said. “Welcome to the family, Tate. And to Abel and Lilith, welcome home.”

Abel was beaming. Lilith was teary, and everyone in the room began clapping and shouting out greetings, while a trio of women escorted them to a table where Lilith’s parents were waiting.

A whole new round of hugs and tears began, with everyone talking above each other and laughing and hugging as they went, coupled with constant remarks of how tall Tate was and how much he looked like his daddy.

Tate let himself be swept up in the homecoming, but stayed quiet as was his way—reading the room and the people in the same way he read books: swiftly, with a photographic memory and an instant understanding.