In His Father’s Footsteps

Where are you, Dad? In all the years you’ve been prospecting, you’ve never been more than two or three days late. Did something happen to you? Is the panning for gold so good you decided to stay longer?

The moon remained silent. Jason turned away in disgust.

He thought of his father as invincible. He didn’t remember ever seeing him sick. At six-foot-three and two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle and brawn, his father cut an awe-inspiring figure. And yet, despite his towering stature, he spoke softly, never raising his voice.

Morley Sharman displayed all things a hunter should be–cautious, vigilant, tenacious. He routinely checked and cleaned his equipment, especially his rifle. At home, he never left the rifle loaded, keeping it locked in a gun cabinet. In the same strict way his father lived his life, he obeyed all the safety regulations for firearms. Surely nothing had happened to him.

Despite the cheerful face his mother pasted on, Jason saw how his father’s lateness affected her. But she refused to give voice to her fears. To speak of them might make them real. She kept to her normal routine, cooking their meals, cleaning the house, and making sure he and his brother looked after the animals. She swept and scrubbed the floors daily, constantly cleaning and fussing. Twice in the last few days, she baked shortbread cookies, his father’s favorite. She kept herself and her hands busy, anything to keep her mind from worrying.

As the days went by, it became harder and harder for her to cloak her fears. Jason knew her too well to miss the subtle signs. Her soft brown face, a face so used to smiling and laughing, had deep lines etched by the full lips. Her mouth was drawn and tight, and ridges had formed at the corners of her soft brown eyes. She wiped her brows as if she could erase the new wrinkles–wrinkles that grew deeper with each passing day. Her round face, looked thinner and hollows appeared in her cheeks. She looked as if she had aged ten years in the last few days.

Jason hadn’t heard her laugh in days. Even the antics of his younger brother, Thomas, and his baby sister, Chloe, brought only a brief smile.

Jason found her quietness even more disturbing than the physical signs of her stress. He tried to draw her out, tried to get her to tell him her concerns, but her fears remained unspoken.

She painted on a bright smile. “Your father’s fine. The prospecting is good. Maybe, he’ll bring home so much gold he won’t have to leave for the rest of the winter.” She laughed and ruffled his hair.

Jason saw through the merry smile. Her voice had lost its joyous ring and her eyes clouded over as she turned away. She used a corner of the dishcloth to wipe at her eyes. He watched her cross to the cupboard, and pull down canisters of flour and sugar. “That must be it, Mom.” Jason forced a grin.

“I’m going to make fresh cookies," she said.

He didn’t mention the cookie jar already overflowed. She needed to keep busy. She needed to make another batch of her husband’s favorite shortbread cookies. She needed to believe he’d be home to eat them soon. Jason needed to believe it too.

He remembered the day his father left. Though over a month ago, Jason heard his father’s words as if only yesterday. “Take care of the family while I’m gone. You’re becoming a man. You need to act like one.” Those were the last words his father had spoken to him. The last words he’d spoken to anyone before he followed the path behind their house, the path through the woods that led to the property where he and his brother had staked their mining claim.

Jason had been so happy that day. He’d felt grown up for his fourteen years, and burst with the pride his father felt in him. It made their disagreements over the past few months fade away. That day seemed so long ago. He felt lost and alone. He was not almost a man. His five-foot-six frame might be strong and muscular, but inside he remained a young boy in need of his father.

Where are you? Why haven’t you come home?

Anger rose as Jason thought of his mother and his younger siblings. How could you do this to us, Dad? You should be here to take care of us. I’ve been strong. I’ve worked hard while you were gone. I’ve done all the chores. I’ve kept the woodpile stocked, fed the animals, put rabbit and squirrel on the table. I’ve kept things going while you’ve been gone. Where are you now? This isn’t my responsibility. I don’t want to be in charge anymore.

A small tear tracked its way down his cheek, and slid into his mouth. Jason used the back of his hand to brush the next one away. Glaring up at the soft glow of the moon, he screamed a silent protest.