Page 7 of One Night Years Ago

“It looks fine, Mom,” he lied. “Where’s Jesse?” he asked.

“He’s in the stable, taking care of Windy. She’s the only horse we’ve got left. Your uncle gifted her to Jesse.”

“How is he doing? Does he know I’m coming back?”

His mother nodded. “He knows you’re coming back, but he doesn’t … he doesn’t know where you’ve been.”

That’s good.

Suddenly a loud whoop interrupted them.

“Hunter! Hunter!” His brother Jesse ran across the yard and jumped on him. Hunter hugged him fiercely, and this time when his eyes filled with tears, he didn’t bother trying to hold them back. “You’re crying, Hunter. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Jesse, just happy to see you.”

“I have so much to show you, Hunter. Wait till you see Windy. She’s the most beautiful—”

“Let’s give your brother a chance to settle in and rest, Jesse,” his mother interrupted. “Why don’t you go see if the chickens have laid any eggs? We could have fried eggs for dinner.”

Jesse nodded and ran off. Hunter watched him go, a seven-year-old stuck in a thirty-two-year-old’s body. There was a time when they’d looked identical, but now someone would have to look closely to see them as identical twins. Jesse’s hair hung past his shoulders, while Hunter wore his in the near-shaved look that he’d favored since going into prison. And while they were both the same height and build, Hunter figured he now had a good forty pounds of muscle on his brother.

“He looks happy, Mom,” Hunter said.

“I hope he is.”

“I know how hard this has been on you, Mom. You’ve done an amazing job.”

“I don’t know that what we did was right, Hunter. I saw Natalie the other day in the grocery store, and she looked—”

“We’re not talking about that now, Mom.” Hunter said.

Or maybe ever.

“Okay, okay. Come into the house, Hunter. I’ve kept your room the way—”

“I’m moving into the barn, Mom.”

His mother’s eyebrows rose in an expression he remembered well from his childhood.

“The barn? But the roof leaks. You’ll be cold. And I’ve—”

Hunter shook his head. “It’s summer, Mom. It’s going to be fine. Jesse and I can fix the roof before the winter. I can’t … I can’t move back in the house. I need some space.”

His mother looked dejected but nodded. He hated hurting her, but there was no way he was going to subject her and his brother to his nightly dreams. He needed to be alone.

“I’ll start getting dinner ready. I’m making your favorite dessert,” she said, her voice sounding cheerful again.

Hunter nodded enthusiastically, although he couldn’t actually remember what dessert she was talking about.

Hunter walked away from the house and towards the barn. The door flapped loosely, held only by a single hinge. He added it to his mental list of things he’d have to take care of and walked inside.

Immediately, old memories assaulted him of the last time he’d set foot in the barn.

It was a warm, summer evening. He’d spent the evening in town with friends, drinking and fooling around. He barely remembered what they’d talked about. Since Hunter didn’t have a car, his friend Pete had offered to drive him back to the farm. Hunter had refused and chosen to walk instead. He wasn’t stupid enough to encourage his friends to drink and drive. The walk back to the farm had cooled his mind a bit. By the time he’d gotten to the farm he was tipsy but no longer drunk.

And then he’d heard a keening cry. At first, he thought it was some animal. He’d walked quietly into the barn and found his brother, huddling in a corner, clutching a piece of yellow fabric.

“Jesse? What’s going on?”