Page 12 of Resilience on Canvas

“Gosh, that storm must have scarred poor Henry’s lungs,” Clara said as she began patting him on the back.

“I’ll fetch some water,” Robert said.

Robert stood up so fast, the chair legs screeched. Henry continued to sputter and cough as Robert poured some water from the pitcher into a tall glass. By the grace of God, Henry was able to compose himself enough to chug a whole bunch of it.

“Better?” Robert asked as Henry set the glass back on the table .

He managed a nod. It seemed like he was fine now. Whatever that word meant.

Robert clapped his hands together. “Well, enough fanfare, then. We better start shovelin’, eh, Hen?”

“Yeah, uhm, yeah,” Henry blurted out, still feeling off from the whole of everything.

Robert leaned in and whispered something to Clara, though Henry couldn’t make out what. And then it was time for the men to work.

Robert led the way out to the barn, and Henry followed shakily, still feeling lightheaded and rattled from breakfast. Holy hell, Robert had winked at him.

Henry couldn’t believe it, though he wasn’t entirely sure what the wink might have meant or whether Robert was simply the type of man who winked a lot.

Maybe he winked all the time. Willy-nilly. At everyone.

Hopefully not, though. No one else had ever winked at Henry before.

Robert bumped Henry with his shoulder and smiled. Henry smiled back.

“I think we ought to start with the worst of the chores,” Robert said, nodding toward the barn.

Henry squinted to see one of the cows lying on its side.

Poor thing had probably suffocated in the storm.

“We need to bury her. Looks like Tessa, maybe, from her colorin’.

Clara will keep the little ones busy for a while.

Don’t want them to see. It seems like Tessa’s the only one, though.

Thank the Lord. Because we were plannin’ on sendin’ them to slaughter soon.

Benefit from that program they have now. Drought Relief Service or somethin’?”

“Ah, yeah, I heard about that,” Henry said.

Robert sighed. “Oh well. Now we’ll only be sellin’ the other two.”

“Damn shame,” Henry said. “I’m sorry you weren’t here to—”

“I know,” Robert said curtly. “Leave it.”

Henry’s heart sank, but he kept his eyes straight ahead, his mouth a hard line. Gosh, why couldn’t he seem to stop irritating his new friend?

Friend.

Henry chewed on his cheek a bit as the word rattled around in his head. In Henry’s mind, he could still see Robert’s hungry, fiery look from the previous night. He’d probably never not see it for the rest of his life. Oh, how he wished they could be more than friends .

Robert began giving out instructions for what they ought to do with the cow.

Even though Henry’s muscles were still humming with that feeling of want , the image of Robert’s expression from the previous night still flickering in his mind like a candle’s orange flame, he forced himself to try to focus on following what Robert was saying.

Together, they found some shovels from the barn, and then they got started digging the grave. After only a couple of scoops of their shovels, however, Robert paused. He wiped the sweat from his brow and heaved a long, exhausted sigh.

“Dammit, we ought to leave her to rot,” he said through a ragged breath. “But I can’t. Tessa was May’s favorite. Truth be told, I’m not even sure I would’ve sold her for slaughter.”

Henry planted his shovel in the powdery soil and offered Robert his most sympathetic look—his eyebrows turned up and lips curled into a sad half smile—but wished he could think of something to say.

It was backbreaking work to shovel in the hot sun like this, especially since they still needed to remove the mounds of soil that had settled on top of the crops later, too.

The fact that Robert would put himself through this was a testament to how wonderful of a caretaker he was .

But Henry couldn’t make himself say those words for some reason. So, when Robert resumed shoveling, Henry only stood by in awe. What a remarkable man he was, that Robert Davis.

After a couple more scoops of the shovel, Robert let out a small, frustrated scream.

“Goddamn son-of-a-bitch storm!” he exclaimed. “Got to have me a cow funeral now.”

Henry’s chest pinched. Cow funeral. Goodness.

All of this was his fault, too, wasn’t it?

If Henry hadn’t been too much of a people-pleaser, he would have never agreed to that proposal in the first place.

And if he hadn’t been too big of a coward, he’d have called off the wedding sooner.

Heck, when Robert had shown up to punish him for calling it off, Henry ought to have taken the beating.

But he had run off instead. He really had caused all of this.

Gritting his teeth, Henry resumed his shoveling, too.

Once it seemed like the hole was big enough to fit a cow, both men planted the ends of their shovels in the ground and wiped the sweat from their brows.

Next, they had to fetch the tractor from the barn.

Robert said it hadn’t been used in months.

It was the most expensive thing that the Davis family owned, save for the farm itself, and Robert said it had been more reliable than their Model T was.

Luckily, the tractor roared to life without issue, and so, Robert rode it over to where Tessa lay.

Henry then tied her to the back of the tractor so that she could be pulled into the hole.

Henry’s stomach roiled while he watched the body being dragged through the dirt.

No wonder Robert wasn’t keen on the kids seeing this.

When Tessa’s body was in the grave, Robert picked up his shovel so that they could set to work on covering her, but he stopped before he could plunge the tool into the ground.

“Maybe we ought to let May see Tessa before we bury her. Like a viewin’.

” Robert sucked on his teeth for a moment.

“ Goddammit, what’s the right thing here, Hen?

May’s six. Do you remember bein’ six? Only things I remember are penny candies and my father’s switch.

” He took a pause, and his frown deepened.

“Alright, that’s exaggeratin’, but still, there weren’t no cow funerals.

I never really cared for cows or chickens or nothin’.

Do you think May would want to see her cow?

Do you think she would want to say goodbye to her like this?

Or should we cover Tessa up and put some dandelions on top? ”

Henry shrugged. “Uhm . . . maybe?”

“Maybe what? Leave her or cover her?” Robert huffed.

Henry slunk into himself a little. “I, uhm, well...”

Robert rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the help, Hen,” he said in a biting tone.

Henry knew he ought to have picked one of the options. Lord, why was he so weak?

“Leave her,” Henry forced out. “If it were me, I would want to see her.”

Robert nodded once. And then they went back to the house.

After Robert broke the news, the three children and Clara accompanied Robert and Henry back outside, and everyone picked a few flowers.

Dandelions, mostly, since they were practically the only ones blooming.

Then the family stood near the edge of the hole that the men had dug.

Everyone shared their favorite memory of Tessa, including Robert, whose favorite memory was the time Tessa had whipped Peter in the head with her tail and then pooped on his shoes.

Listening to Robert tell that story and watching the way it brightened everyone’s mood, Henry’s chest began to ache with a fierce longing, one so intense that it took a whole lot of mental fortitude for Henry not to take Robert’s face in his hands right then and there and plant a kiss on his plump, kissable lips.

God, how Henry wanted to tell Robert how wonderful he was.

Robert was sweet and strong and loyal, and ho-ly heck, Henry was liking him more every second they were together.

Before the storm, Robert had been someone who Henry had held in high regard, sure.

And, of course, Henry had thought that Robert was a fine-looking fellow—the most handsome man he’d ever seen, really.

But witnessing how fiercely devoted the man really was.

.. Lord Almighty, this infatuation of Henry’s wasn’t never going to wane.

It would be the end of him. Henry could swear to it.

After everyone was finished sharing their stories, it was time to bury Tessa.

They all began to toss their handfuls of flowers atop Tessa’s lifeless body, and as Henry threw his onto the pile, a whistling sound broke through their collective silence.

Henry’s first thought was that the noise must have come from some kind of half-broken farm equipment owned by one of the neighbors, but then he turned and saw Raymond Davis staggering toward them, two fingers in his mouth, whistling every couple of feet to try to catch their attention.

Henry frowned and looked sideways at Robert.

Robert’s muscles had tensed, and his face was slowly reddening, his nostrils slightly flared.

Both of Robert’s hands were clenched into fists, one of them smushing the stems of the weeds he was still clutching.

“What’re y’all doin’?” Raymond called out before sputtering a loud cough. “Why is our garden covered with a heap of this lousy, useless topsoil that’s been blowin’ ’round?”

“We’re trying to have a funeral here, Pop!” Robert yelled back.

“Funeral?” Raymond tripped on a rock but caught himself before he fell. “Who died?”

“Tessa,” Clara said, though her voice was so small, Henry could hardly hear her.

“Who?! ” Raymond said, cupping a hand over his ear.

“Tessa, Goddammit!” Robert hollered. “Now leave us be! ”

“Tessa?!” Raymond stopped walking and scrunched up his nose. “Ain’t she a cow?”

Robert muttered something to himself that sounded like “Jesus fucking Christ.”

May turned to face her father, and Henry’s stomach tightened.

“She was my cow, Pop,” she said with tears in her eyes. “It’s important.”

May was still holding tight to a couple of flowers—four dandelions and a little blue flower that Henry didn’t know the name of.

He wanted to scoop her up and protect her from whatever Raymond Davis might say back, but he stayed rooted to the spot, uncertain of the role he was expected to play in this.

“It’s a waste of time, is what it is,” Raymond said. “And why’s she dead? None of our cows are that old yet.”

Clara said, “She, uhm, she suffocated. Durin’ the storm.”

“Suffocated? Puh! Didn’t no one close up the barn?” Raymond took a few heavy steps toward Robert. “Did I raise you to be lazy or somethin’? Why’d you leave her out here?”

Robert opened and closed his free hand a few times in rapid succession, like maybe he was trying to release some of the anger that was building up inside him.

And Henry wondered when he would blow his top. When. Not if.

“I wasn’t here,” Robert replied, his lip curling.

“Wasn’t here? What in the tarnation? What kind of brother—”

Robert seized Raymond by the collar, and the flowers he had been holding fell, scattering at his feet.

“What kind of brother am I? What kind of father are you?” Robert spat, his eyes wild. “Where the hell were you? Drinkin’? Gamblin’?”

Raymond tried to wrestle his shirt out of Robert’s grasp, but he failed.

“None of yer business,” he snarled.

“Bullshit,” Robert said. “It is my business. Where are you findin’ the money for that?”

“Let go of me, son,” Raymond said, narrowing his eyes. “Or you’ll be sorry.”

“Sorry? Did you forget that I’m bigger than you now, Pop?”

Raymond bared his teeth like he knew that Robert was right.

But then Raymond’s glassy-looking eyes wandered over toward the little ones, and Robert’s face fell.

He seemed to know exactly what his father was thinking.

Muttering a string of cuss words, Robert released him, pushing his pop back hard enough that Raymond nearly landed on his butt.

Clara sucked in a sharp breath. Her arms were wide and stretched out in front of the kids, forming a shield between them and their father. Henry thought that Raymond might come at her, but he only barked a raspy laugh instead.

“Well, I’m headin’ in,” he said. Raymond ran his hands over his chest, making it look like he was fixing his shirt, though it stayed as wrinkled as it had been when he had first stumbled into view.

Then, Raymond smirked up at Robert and said, “It’s still my house yer livin’ in, boy. Don’t forget it.” And he sauntered off.

For the next few seconds, Henry didn’t dare breathe. No one else moved, neither.

Finally, with a huff, Robert raked his foot over one of the fallen dandelions, mangling it, and Henry’s stomach turned in on itself. All of this, it was his fault.

“Robert...” He shuffled closer. “Gosh, I can’t even tell you how sorry I am.”

“Leave it, Hen,” Robert said, his voice sharp.

“I can’t leave it. I—”

“Goddammit, Henry! I said leave it !” Robert screamed. He closed his eyes and took a breath as Henry crumpled in on himself. In a measured voice, without yet having reopened his eyes, Robert said to Henry, “Actually, you can leave here , too. Go home. I’ll handle the rest of the chores myself.”

“But—”

“Hen,” Robert repeated, his tone irritated but pleading.

Henry swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I’ll... I’ll walk back. Uhm...” He looked over at Clara. And the hurt in her eyes broke his heart. Damn, he had made such a mess of everything. “Thanks for the scones. I’ll see you in town soon?”

Clara nodded. “Of course. I’ll come to the store sometime.”

Henry wasn’t sure if he was supposed to check with Robert to see if he still wanted some of Henry’s shifts. Probably now wasn’t the time.

Nodding, Henry simply said, “Bye, Clara. Bye, kids.” He tried to catch Robert’s eye next, but Robert’s gaze was fixed on the broken flower at his feet. It was like he couldn’t even stomach looking at Henry now. “Bye, Robert.”

Henry walked the entire way home with tears in his eyes, the sting of Robert’s harsh tone burning more badly than topsoil filling his lungs.