An Advent Story: Part 4 (Aaron Achartz)

The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles lit the square. Even at two in the morning, a small crowd had gathered. They stood together, huddled against the cold and dark, and whispered conjectures. They knew whose tractor it was.

The large metal soldier, which had stood prominent in the daylight, lay disfigured on the icy concrete. The carefully cast face flattened to an indistinguishable lump. The broken rifle now a sheared off spike of contorted brass.

The faded blue tractor lay on its side. Oil slowly leaked across the freshly fallen snow. The engine, though off, let off a thin trail of steam into the night air.

Joe sat in the back of the police car. The metal cuffs bit into his wrists. He bent his head, but knew it would not stop the onlookers from identifying him. He knew everyone in Branchwatch and they knew him.

The window muffled Goerge's deep, slow voice. George leaned against his own car and talked to the officers. Joe should not have dragged him into this. This was a stupid stunt.

He glanced up and saw a red pickup pull up. A short, broad figure climbed out. His father approached the police officers, who pointed towards Joe.

The door jerked open. His father was silhouetted by the flashing lights. He spoke deliberately, his voice tight. "What in the blazes did you think you were doing?"

Joe stared at the grass. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" His father swung his arm in a broad sweep. "Did you accidentally hit the statue? Are you drunk?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, sir." Joe bite his lip. "I'm sorry."

"Look at me." He said softly.

Joe's neck refused to obey.

"Joseph Carver. Look at me."

Joe raised his eyes only. They locked eyes. Joe could only hold his gaze for a moment before blinking and looked back down.

"What a disappointment." The statement was oddly emotionless.

"Dad, I'm sorr-"

"No. I am no longer your father. You are not part of our family."

Joe couldn't speak.

"You are never to speak to me or my family again. Ever." His father took a deep breath. "I expect you gone by dinner."

He drove off. Twelve hours later, Joe left town.

"Hello, father."

The narrowed brown eyes looked him over. They fell upon his face. Eyebrows raised as recognition set in. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk." Joe bowed his head slightly. "To ask for your-"

The door shut.

Joe squeezed his eyes and pushed back the tears. He knocked again.

His father reopened the door, scowling. "I told you to never speak to me again."

"I came to say I'm sorry."

"Empty words. You've already said that a hundred times." The old man huffed.

"Then let me try for a hundred and first time."

"Who's here, Michael?" an older woman's voice called from the kitchen.

"No one." He stared Joe down. "Just a stranger."

Joe clasped his hands together. "Please, can't we talk? Just for a minute."

"Why would I ever want to talk to you?" His father threw his hands in the air. "Convince me. Why?"

"I want you to meet your grandson."

His father stopped, the door half shut. "What?"

"I want you to meet Josh. My son. And my wife, Miriam."

His father stared at him for what felt like minutes. "You think this changes things?"

"Yes. No." Joe shook his hands, frustrated at his inability to form sentences. "It doesn't change what I did. But it does change how I view it. I'm truly sorry, for all the trouble I caused for you when I was younger."

"You have no clue the trouble you caused me. Beyond a broken tractor and a ruined statue. My reputation. My standing."

"I get it." Joe grit his teeth. "If Josh did something stupid, I would be mad at him too. But I would forgive him. I understand now that I am a father."

"Just because you have a son doesn't make you a father." He pointed a finger in Joe's face. "You have to earn it."

His father turned his back on Joe and stepped into the house.

"Oh, like you did such a great job," he blurted out.

His father wheeled around. "What?"

Joe couldn't hold it in anymore. "You gave up on me! When you should've been helping me, you abandoned me."

"To your own choices!" his father yelled.

"I made some bad choices. But I always owned up to them. I sought forgiveness."

"What are you saying? That I made a mistake?" His father got into his face. "You ran away!"

"No, you drove me away." Tears ran down his cheeks. "Why couldn't you be there for me?"

"I was! For years I was! And all it got me was a troublemaker."

"Is that all you think I am? A disappointing troublemaker?"

Silence hung in the frigid air. They stared each other down.

"You were my son." His father took a deep breath. "I wanted you to be better."

"And now I am." Joe held his hands together. "Please, give me a chance to prove it to you."

"This is stupid."

"I know, but-" His father interrupted him by wrapping his arms around Joe. "What are you doing?"

"What I should've done years ago." His arms tightened around him. "You're my son."

"I'm so sorry, dad." Joe could hardly see through the tears. "I'll earn your love back."

"You have nothing to earn. I've always loved you. Never stopped." He'd never seen his father cry before. "When you left, I thought it'd be two days before you got back. Then I thought it'd be in the spring. Then maybe the next year."

"Dad-"

"By the time I realized you weren’t coming back, it was too late. I thought you hated me. I knew you'd never be back. And the only person I could blame was myself."

"I felt the same way," Joe said. "But then Josh was born and Miriam's father had a heart attack. I couldn't leave our relationship broken."

"Where are they?" his father asked.

"They're at George's. I came alone, because I didn't know if you..."

"I am stupidly stubborn sometimes. But you forgive me?"

"Of course." They hugged again. "And you?"

"I forgive you, son." He wiped a tear away. "Now, why don't you go pick up your wife and son? We can have Christmas dinner together as a family."

They sat around the table, roast and potatoes piled on plates, as banter swirled around. His parents tickled and babbled gibberish at Josh. Miriam laughed at his brother's cheesy jokes. Joe's gaze wandered around the old farmhouse.

The old wooden floors, the crooked window, the smell of freshly cooked food. Outside, the snow fell in the peaceful evening, coating cars that weren't going anywhere. He never thought he'd be back.

Things with his father were still tense and strange. They might be for a while. But their love would guide them through and rebuild their family. He had faith that love could do that and so much more.