Page 9 of Not Until I Found You

I put down my Bible and take another sip of coffee as I glance down the driveway, where Ryland’s truck is still parked. I couldn’t get it running, and so here I am, having to hitch another ride to work with Ashton. Sven’s ears perk as two sharp beeps slice through the quiet.

Ashton’s black truck rumbles into view, a cloud of dust rising behind his tires. I check my watch, seeing that he’s late as usual. He taps his horn again, this time for no reason, other than to annoy me.

He leans out of his window, sunglasses perched low on his nose, his long curls a complete mess. “You ready or what?”

“You’re the one who’s late,” I call back and screw the lid on my thermos as I head down the steps.

Sven trots after me, and I help him hop into the bed of Ashton’s truck. The passenger door groans when I open it, and the scent of motor oil mixed with old leather hits me instantly. Food wrappers are scattered across the floorboards, and a pair of work gloves sits on the dashboard beneath a thin layer of dust.

“Have you ever heard of cleaning?” I ask, shoving the trash out of my way so I can slide into the passenger seat.

“Why would I ruin the aesthetic?” Ashton chuckles and throws the truck into reverse.

“Thanks for the ride, by the way.”

“No problem.”

We roll out of the driveway and onto the main road, gravel crunching beneath the tires before the pavement smooths out under us. The only sound inside the cab is the hum of the engine and wind slipping through the cracked windows. I look over at my friend, noticing the worry lines by his eyes that have been there for months now.

“How’s your dad doing?” I decide to ask.

Ashton shrugs, his eyes trained on the road. “Some days are good; other days are frustrating as he struggles to communicate the way he wants to.”

Sympathy squeezes against my throat. “I can only imagine.”

“He gets irritated and then shuts down,” Ashton continues. “Yesterday, he spent fifteen minutes trying to tell me where the tractor key was.”

I wince and glance over at him. “It’s that bad, huh?”

“It’s better than when he wasn’t talking at all. At least I can make out most of what he’s trying to say. It has to be discouraging for him, though.”

Ashton’s jaw twitches, and his grip tightens on the steering wheel. He doesn’t say anything else, but I’ve known Ashton long enough to recognize when something is gnawing at him.

“It’s been hard watching him struggle since his stroke. I’m not sure what I’m going to do this summer since work is picking up.”

Ashton works construction with Ryland and me. Sixty- to eighty-hour weeks aren’t unusual this time of year, which is why I get where Ashton’s coming from. It’s not an ideal time to be carrying something heavy at home.

“Is there anyone who could help out with your dad this summer?” I ask.

“No, no one I can think of. Taking care of the homestead is a struggle for him right now. I’ll have to start getting up earlier or going to bed later to make sure things get done.”

He exhales hard, the weight of everything starting to catch up with him. I hate this for him. It’s not only the logistics or the strain; it’s watching someone you love become a version of themselves that you no longer recognize.

I’ve been there before. Ryland and I lost our grandmother to kidney cancer when we were teenagers, and saying goodbye to our grandfather several years ago wasn’t any easier. Those kinds of losses change you. Even though Ashton’s dad is still here, I know a piece of him was taken the day the stroke happened. That’s a different kind of grief because it lingers in the space between what was and what is.

I lean back in my seat, letting the weight of his words settle around us. Ashton’s not only tired, but he’s stretched thin in every direction, pulled between duty and helplessness.

“I could come by and help out. Anytime you need me to.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” He runs a hand through his long hair. “I will probably continue to stay with him, so I can help whenever I can during these busier months. Is it okay if I leave my cabin vacant for the time being?”

“Of course.” I shrug. “Do what you need to do. I’ll keep an eye on the place while you’re gone.”

“Thanks.”

The tension still hangs in the air, so I shift the conversation before it has time to settle again.

“What’s on the schedule today? Still the kitchen remodel out by Mill Creek?”