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Reasons - Home

by:  J.A. Moniz

November 22, 1970

It was nearly 10 in the morning when the bus finally pulled in at the station.  Sam had been traveling just over 24 hours straight.  Although it would have been faster to fly from Boston back to Indiana it just wasn’t economical so he’d spent the last day on buses.  It was worth it, though, to be coming home for Thanksgiving even if this Thanksgiving was going to be a sad one since it was the first without Tom.

Reaching the last step off the bus Sam looked around and quickly spotted his father and ran over to him greeting him with a hug.  Once he’d returned the hug, John Beckett held his son at arm’s length from him.  “Land sakes, boy, you’ve gotten taller since you left back in August.”  He ran a critical eye up and down Sam before continuing, “You might be taller but you must not be eating well up there in Cambridge.  Your Mama’s Thanksgiving dinner will take care of that.”

“I eat just fine, Dad,” Sam chuckled.  “I just stay really busy.  Let me grab my bag and we can get going.”

Once Sam had taken possession of his bag John led the way to the family car.  Sam tossed his bag in the backseat before settling down in the passenger seat next to his father.

“How was the trip,” John asked.

“Long.’

Sam and John used the time it took to get back to the farm to catch up until Sam drifted off to sleep.  Being back home and in his father’s company relaxed the tenseness of travel from his body and, unintentionally, he started to nod off with his head leaning against the window.

John fondly looked over to his son sleeping peacefully.  It was good to have him home – if only for a short while.

It was just short time later that they pulled up in front of the house.  “Sam,” John called gently shaking his arm.  “Wake up, Son, you’re home.”

Sam started awake and looked around to get his bearings before wiping the sleep from his eyes.  “Sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“No harm done,” John assured him.  “I’d guess you didn’t get much sleep on the bus.”

“No, Sir.  It’s tough to sleep on a moving bus, that’s for sure.”

Sam and John went into the house and Sam was warmly greeted by his mother and sister.  Thelma Beckett clucked over him just as John had saying that he must have lost at least 10 pounds since they’d sent him off to Cambridge back in August.

Sam assured them both that he was certainly eating fine, he’d just been very busy running back and forth between his studies and the tutoring work he’d taken on to provide him with a little extra spending money.  What he didn’t tell them was that most of what he earned tutoring he kept carefully stashed away rolled up in a sock.  He planned to give it to his father at the end of the school year to put towards the upkeep of the farm.  He knew how hard it was to run the farm and that it got harder all the time.

After unpacking his bag and eating one of his mother’s hearty lunches, Sam joined his father in the daily day to day chores of the farm.  By the time dinner rolled around he’d worked up quite a hearty appetite.

***

Thanksgiving Day was one of the few days when the only work John Beckett did around the farm was just the necessary chores.  There was some work that just couldn’t be ignored no matter what the day.  Cows didn’t care if was Thanksgiving or not, they still needed to milked.  With Sam to help, the chores were done in a relatively short time.

Dinner was a much more solemn affair than Sam could ever remember.  The family sat around the tabled dressed in their Sunday best with Thelma’s good china and silver laid out.  It was hard to ignore the empty place at the table where Tom should have been sitting.  When John said grace he was sure to ask God to look out for the son that had been taken from them far too soon.

Sam was almost glad when dinner was finally over.  It had been quiet and awkward.  As much as he’d been looking forward to this time home with his family, now that he was here he was suddenly wishing that he’d just stayed at school.   He began to think how much easier it would have been to have just ignored the holiday.

“Katie,” Thelma said rising from the table, “you help clear the table and wash the dishes.  John, why don’t you and Sam relax while we get that done?  Once it’s all cleaned up, we can have some pumpkin pie.”

“Why do I always have to help clean up?” Katie asked.  “Just ‘cause I’m a girl isn’t fair.  Sam should have to help too since he ate dinner.”

“Your brother was up at the crack of dawn helping your father with the chores, young lady,” Thelma scolded her.  “If you want to be the one to do that then I’ll gladly have your brother help me but until then, the job falls to you.  Now come on, the sooner this is done the sooner we can all have dessert.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Katie answered though none too enthusiastically getting up from her place at the table.

John spared the two ladies in his life a smile before turning to his son.  “While your Mom and Katie clean this up how ‘bout we go downstairs and play a little ping pong.”

For as long as Sam could remember there’d always been a ping pong table in the basement.  It was where John Beckett would take his sons when he wanted to have a heart to heart with them.  Sam was mystified as to what his father could want to talk to him about.

Once the game was underway it soon became clear to Sam.

“You know it’s getting a lot harder to keep up the farm,” John said to start the conversation.

“Yes, Sir, I imagine it is,” Sam answered then decided that instead of waiting until the school year had ended to tell his father what he’d been doing he’d just tell him now.  “I was thinking a lot about that.  I’ve been saving most of the money I get for tutoring to help out around here.  I was going to tell you about it later but I guess now’s a good time.”

John was momentarily surprised by what his son told him and missed the ball as it came over the net to him.  “I’d rather you hold onto that money, son,” he said as he picked up the ball and served it back over the table.

“But, Dad, I’ve been doing the tutoring to help out here.  I can’t hold onto since it’s not meant for me.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Sam.  Your mother and I have sat down and done some figuring and some talking.  We can’t hold on to the farm anymore and we’ve decided to sell it.  We’ve talked to a buyer and it’s all going to be set after the first of the year.”

This time it was Sam’s turn to be surprised and the ball went skittering past him.  He made no move to go after it.  “Sell the farm?  You can’t, Dad.  You’ve worked so hard here.  It’s your home.”

John breathed a heavy sigh.  He’d known it was going to be hard to break the news to Sam.  “It’s not that we want to, Sam.  We have to.  If we don’t sell we’ll end up losing it all in a couple of months when the bank forecloses.”

“I’ll quite school and come back home.  We can use the money from Tom’s insurance for the farm.”

John came around to Sam’s side of the ping pong table and braced his hands on his son’s shoulders.  “No, Sam.  I won’t let you do that.  I told you, your brother wanted you to use that money for your schooling and that’s what you’re going to do.  Besides,” he continued looking down defeated, “it would only delay the inevitable for a little while.  There’s no other way, Sam.”

“What’ll you do?” Sam asked softly.

“I’ve talked to Mr. Johnston in town and after the first of the year I’ll be working at the hardware store.”

“Where will you live?”

“Mr. Johnston happens to have a small house for rent in town.  We’ll be moving in there after the New Year.  It’s pretty small compared to this house but it’ll be big enough for your Mom, Katie and me.  I’m afraid when you visit, though, you’ll have to take the couch.  There are only two bedrooms.”

“There’s nothing we can do to change this,” Sam asked one more time almost pleading for his father to tell him that it could all be changed.

“I’m so sorry, son.  Your mother and I have tried everything and this is the only way we see of it all working out.”

“You said this was home, Dad - that I could always come back.  Now what?”

“Sam, a home isn’t just made up of land or buildings.  It’s made up of the people who love us.  Wherever your Mama and I are, and everyone else who loves you, is where your home will be…always.  I promise you, Son.”

“Does Katie know?” Sam asked.

Almost in answer to Sam’s question a wail of “no” could be heard from upstairs.  “Your mother was going to tell her while they were cleaning up.  I guess she knows now.”  John heaved a breath wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders and leading him upstairs.  “C’mon, let’s go back upstairs with your mom and sister.”

***

Nothing further was said about the sale of the farm that night.  It was almost as if the four of them agreed to forget about it, at least until the end of the holiday.  Friday dawned gray and rainy and Sam pulled himself out of bed to help his father with the chores.  He’d be leaving tomorrow morning for the trip back to Cambridge and wanted to spend as much time as he could around the farm knowing that his time on it was so limited.

When John saw him go into the barn to pitch down some new hay he thought nothing of it.  When he came in for lunch and saw his son sitting at the table with an icepack pressed against his face he was immediately concerned.

“Sam, what happened?”

Before Sam could frame an answer Thelma spoke up instead.  “He said he slipped in the barn and hit his face against the wall.”

“Yeah, and the other wall must have hit him and gave him a black eye,” Katie chimed in.

“Katherine Beckett, I thought I told you to go outside and bring in that laundry.  Now get a move on.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Katie answered rolling her eyes.

John took Sam’s chin in his hand tilting his face to get a better view.  “What happened, Sam?” he asked again.

“It’s like Mom said, I slipped and hit my face.”

“Uh huh, that doesn’t explain this black eye.  Did someone help you to slip?” John suspected some kind of altercation had happened in the barn but since he hadn’t seen anyone go in there when he’d been near the barn he had no idea who it could have been.

“No, no one was in there with me.  I just slipped, ok.  Can we please just let it go now,” Sam said throwing down the icepack and getting up from the chair heading for the back door.

“Sam….” Thelma said starting after him.

“Leave him, Thelma,” John said putting out a hand to stop her.  “We’ll have to wait until he’s ready to tell us what happened himself.”

Sam hadn’t been ready to tell them the rest of the day or that night either.  When he’d woken up from a nightmare screaming like the devil was after him and woke up the rest of the house he still wasn’t ready.  John again reiterated to Thelma that they’d have to wait and Sam would tell them what had happened in good time.

When the next morning came a tired and haggard Sam kissed his mother and sister on the porch.  He didn’t want them to come to see him off at the bus station knowing that if they did there’d just be tears there.

“Take care of yourself, Sammy,” Thelma whispered in his ear hugging him tight.

“I will, Mom, and I’ll be home for Christmas.  It’s just a little while,” Sam assured her returning the hug.

“I know you will but I’m you’re Mama and I’m supposed to worry about you.”

Sam broke from his mother and gave Katie a quick hug and climbed in the car with his father.  The drive to the bus station was made in silence.  Just as Sam was ready to get out John put out a hand to stop him.  “When you’re ready to talk about what happened yesterday, I’ll be here to listen to you.”  Sam gave his father a quick nod in understanding.  “Just remember where home is, Son.”  John leaned over grabbing his son in a hug.  “You’ll see.  Next Thanksgiving will be different.”

“Yes, Sir, I guess it will.  I’ll be home again soon.”  Sam climbed out of the car and grabbed his suitcase from the backseat.  He waved at his father and rushed off in the direction of his bus making a promise to himself that reiterated his father’s words.  Next year will be different.

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