Chapter Eight: Now What
1127 Words
POV: Emmett
The beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing tethering Emmett to the present.
Ben lay still, pale, the oxygen tube hissing quietly under his nose. He looked too small for the man who once lifted tractor parts with his bare hands, who once threw Emmett over his shoulder for sneaking off during harvest to kiss a girl by the creek.
The same man who taught Emmett how to throw a punch and how to stand down when it mattered more.
I wasn’t ready, Emmett thought, gripping the brim of Ben’s old cap so tightly his knuckles ached.
He hadn’t been ready to take over the farm, to be responsible for something real. And he wasn’t ready to lose his father, not yet, not while there was still so much unsaid between them.
“I know you knew that,” he whispered.
Outside, dawn was turning the sky rust and lavender, light spilling across the rolling fields that smelled of wet earth and hope. He thought of Vera in that light, her hair pulled back, her tired eyes somehow steady.
And he thought of Aubrie, the way she had looked at him that night in the rain—like she finally saw the truth she’d been denying.
If Ben didn’t wake up, Emmett wasn’t sure he’d know how to keep going. Or how to keep this place alive.
But he knew he had to try.
POV: Vera
Vera found Aubrie sitting in the hospital chapel, back row, arms wrapped around herself like armor.
Candles flickered at the front, their tiny flames swaying in the draft, casting shadows on the wooden floor.
Vera sat down beside her, leaving a respectful space. The silence was thick, heavy with all the things that had been said and left unsaid.
Finally, Vera spoke. “I’m sorry.”
Aubrie didn’t look at her. “For what?”
“For not telling you about June. About... everything.”
Aubrie’s jaw tightened. “You didn’t owe me that.”
“But you deserved the truth,” Vera said softly.
Aubrie’s breath hitched. She wiped at her eyes roughly, like she was angry for letting the tears come.
“I was so mad,” she admitted, voice low. “Mad at you, at him, at myself. For waiting around for someone who didn’t see me.”
Vera swallowed. “You’re not invisible, Aubrie.”
“I know,” Aubrie said, her voice cracking. “But it’s easier sometimes. Easier than being seen and... passed over.”
Vera reached out, letting her hand rest on the bench between them.
“We’re not enemies,” she said.
Aubrie let out a brittle laugh. “We sure tried to be.”
They shared a small, tired smile. It wasn’t forgiveness, not fully, but it was a start.
Aubrie’s eyes lifted. “You love him?”
Vera’s breath caught. She didn’t answer immediately, letting the truth settle between them before she finally nodded.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”
Aubrie nodded too, looking forward, shoulders dropping as if letting go of something heavy. “I think I always knew that.”
POV: Emmett
After a long drive home, the fog still clinging to the fields, Emmett found himself in the attic.
He didn’t know why he was there—only that it felt like something unfinished was waiting.
The attic smelled of cedar and old hay, dust motes dancing in the slivers of light that cut through the small window.
He found the box marked in Ben’s fading scrawl: “J.M. – keep.”
His hands shook as he untied the string, revealing yellowed letters, soft and thin with age. The first letter stopped him cold.
It was to June Morgan. Vera’s mother.
My dearest June,
If the war takes me, I want you to know I chose to die with your name in my heart. And if I live—I’ll spend that life building something worthy of you.
Emmett sank down, letters scattered around him, the weight of their love stories unfolding in ink. Dreams, regrets, promises Ben never spoke of.
At the bottom, an envelope addressed in June’s handwriting, unopened.
He held it carefully, his breath unsteady.
Ben hadn’t just known Vera’s family. He had loved her mother.
Vera’s return wasn’t a coincidence.
It was a circle closing.
POV: Ben
Later that evening, Emmett was back by Ben’s bedside, the letters wrapped in a cloth in his pocket.
Ben stirred, eyes fluttering open, unfocused.
“Dad?” Emmett leaned in, hope clawing at his chest.
Ben’s lips moved, a faint whisper:
“...June...”
Emmett blinked back tears. “She’s gone, Dad.”
Ben’s breathing hitched, and he struggled for words. “Not... her... the girl... hers...”
His eyes slipped closed again, but Emmett understood.
Ben wasn’t calling for the woman he once loved.
He was calling for her daughter.
For Vera.
POV: Vera
She stood in the doorway, watching Emmett and Ben, her hand pressed to the frame to keep herself steady.
Ben’s breathing was soft but sure. He was still here. Still fighting.
Emmett turned to her, eyes red, but clear for the first time in weeks.
No more lies between them.
Just one unspoken question.
Now what?
POV: Emmett
Now what.
The words hung between them as Vera stepped closer, into the room, the smell of her cedar soap grounding him as much as the steady sound of Ben’s breathing.
“I found the letters,” Emmett said, voice rough.
Vera’s eyes widened, and he saw the young woman she was when she first arrived, lost but strong.
“He loved her,” Vera whispered.
Emmett nodded. “Yeah. And he tried to let her go. But he never really did.”
Vera’s gaze shifted to Ben, her eyes shimmering. “He took me in because he loved her.”
Emmett swallowed. “And I pushed you away because I didn’t want to become him.”
She looked at him, seeing him, really seeing him.
“You’re not him,” she said softly.
“No,” Emmett agreed, his voice low, raw. “But I’m scared I could be.”
Vera reached out, her hand finding his.
“You’re not,” she whispered. “You’re you. And I’m still here.”
The dawn light spilled across them through the hospital window, soft and golden, as if the world was telling them it was time.
Time to stop running.
Time to fight for the land, for the family they could build, for the promise that Ben’s letters held between the lines.
The farm’s fate hung in the balance, but as Vera squeezed his hand, Emmett knew:
They would face it together.
- Writer
