It would be safe to say that John, standing in front of the shed back in the Logan’s yard, was the last person I expected to see when I rolled back into the yard with the combine and a grain trailer in tow a half an hour later than I really should have been out on the road. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him – I just assumed he was still in China.
Standing there with his arms crossed against the chill meant that he’d been in contact with the Logans, which meant a lot of different things.
All of them were good, and all of them were unexpected.
He’d engineered the voyage of discovery I completed when I set the air brakes, shut the lights off, and turned off the key that silenced my truck and ended everything I’d been through. I’d found someone new out on the road and in all of those little towns, and I wasn’t sure if she fit into John’s life, or if he fit into hers, for that matter.
I sat in the silence for a minute, processing the day and just winding down. It gave John enough time to walk around the side of the truck and stand next to my door.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” He asked once I opened the door.
I don’t know where the tears came from, but they wouldn’t stop once they started. I fought with the seatbelt and half fell out of the truck and into his arms. I couldn’t manage words right then – the more I tried to define them, the more confused I got about what I wanted to say.
In the end, his embrace did all of the talking.