Even before she fully entered the still-dark kitchen that morning, she already knew. Call it a mother's intuition, but Tess didn't need to open the envelope that lay waiting for her on the table. Her son had been in anguish from the day that Grace had left for England, barely able to make his veterinary rounds and do his usual tasks around the ranch. Then when Lillian got word that Grace planned to remain there for the foreseeable future, helping set up a new orphanage, it was clear that Chuck would take action.
Unfortunately it was the action that had the potential to completely unravel Tess. Sure, she had managed to stay strong after Matthew's tragic death - she often caught glances from the townspeople that seemed a mix of admiration and incredulity. There weren't too many women who could maintain a successful ranch on their own. Yet Tess had done it, and with a quiet grace to boot. She'd also raised a son who was smart, ambitious, funny, deeply caring. Chuck was everything she could ever have hoped he might be.
Chuck. Her bright, happy boy. After a series of miscarriages, Tess and Matthew had quietly resigned themselves to their destiny as a childless couple.
Then, nearly a decade after they had married, their tiny miracle arrived. Both Stewarts, themselves raised in relative poverty amongst numerous siblings, wanted Chuck to grow up understanding hard work and discipline. But it was often difficult. The little boy trotted around the ranch, asking endless questions with his characteristic cheerfulness. Never a sentimental person, Tess was amazed at how much she had to struggle with the urge to embrace Chuck nearly every time she saw him, to kiss the top of his head or smile indulgently. Matthew's brother Ronnie kept warning them they'd spoil the boy, but Chuck seemed impervious to the possibility.
Like many happy children secure with their place in the world, Chuck insisted he would never leave home. "I love the ranch," he would always tell his mother. But Tess knew better. "Men always leave," she'd reply. One day, when Chuck was grown, he'd want to find out what some other corner of the world held. It was what Tess' brothers had all done. Matthew's had as well, with the exception of Ronnie, who had big ideas that never seemed to work out the way he'd imagined. Somehow he always needed his brother and sister-in-law to bail him out.
But Chuck was an only child. Once she and Matthew were gone, there would be no one to catch him if he fell. Chuck would need to be strong, to make smart decisions. If nothing else, Tess felt she'd succeeded in preparing Chuck for a world that was often unfair and uncertain.
Yet it was one thing to imagine Chuck's departure in a vague future and quite another to face it head on. Tess had thought losing Matthew in the accident was about the worst thing that could ever happen to her. It had nearly destroyed her. But even in Tess' devastation, she had always had Chuck in mind, the need to keep going for his sake. And so she had, continuing to maintain and build up the ranch. After all, it would all be his one day.
Now Tess stood beside the worn kitchen table, fingering the envelope as the sun began to rise outside her window. She knew the words it held. She had always known it would happen, in some way, some day. But she hadn't fully realized there was a level of pain even more agonizing than any she'd experienced before. A literal part of her was gone, halfway across the world, and there was no way to know when, or even if, he'd ever be back.