Ch. 10

"I'm really glad you could come with us today, Clark."

"And miss picking up the feed?" Jonathon asked.

"Dad can't do it without me."

"I could do it—I just prefer not to. Besides—it goes a lot faster with two people than one."

"And now you have three," William volunteered.

"Granddad—do you really think you should be lifting oats? They're kind of heavy."

"Anything my son-in-law can do, I can do also."

Jonathon turned to Will. "But your son-in-law gets tired of doing it—that's why we have kids, so we can get them to do it for us." He smiled at Clark to let him know he was kidding.

"And someday I'll get tired of it, and make my kids do it, too."

Jonathon stopped at the thought of Clark having kids. He couldn't imagine Clark trying to protect his kids and himself.

"Well, that would be a sight to see. My daughter having a grandchild."

Clark froze. "I'm sorry, Grandpa. I didn't mean it like that."

"No, Clark—it's okay. I'm just glad you're here now. And the sun is still up. It must be my lucky day."

Jonathon changed the subject. "Come on, Clark. We've got to get these things loaded before we can get the hay."

The three of them worked for a while in silence until William couldn't take it any longer. "So—Valentine's Day is coming up."

Clark looked up at him. "Yeah. Dad—are you and Mom doing anything special this year?"

"Actually, that comment was made towards you, Clark," William tried again.

Jonathon stopped hauling for a moment and smiled. Clark gave him a "stop it or I will throw your tractor into a ditch" stare.

"Didn't I read something about a dance in that school newspaper of yours?"

Clark started hauling oats again. "They have one every year."

"Who are you taking this time?"

Clark tried his hardest not to smile at their conversation. "I don't usually go to the Valentine's Dance."

"But it's your senior year. You should go to at least one Valentine's Dance before you graduate."

Clark's efforts not to smile faded. "Trust me, Grandpa—if I thought someone would say yes, I would ask."

"Why do you think no one would say yes?" Clark grew uneasy. "Or is it that a certain someone wouldn't say yes?"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is, I'm not going."

"Maybe you should ask anyway."

"If I ask, I'd be even further alienated from this… person who we're not talking about." Clark froze. Alienated. Why did that have to be the word?

"And why is that?"

Jonathon stopped hauling oats again and gave Clark a warning stare. Clark saw it. "It's complicated."

"I'm an old man, Clark. I understand complicated."

Jonathon broke into their conversation. "It's just not something we'd want to get into here."

William looked from Clark to Jonathon, noting their expressions. "Well, later at home, perhaps."

"Yeah," Jonathon said sarcastically.