Chapter 8 - August

The doctors couldn't explain what happened to Clark's dad. They'd never figured out what his heart condition was, let alone how to cure it, so they warned Clark's whole family not to get their hopes up, that his condition could come back. In the meantime, they seemed to be struggling to come up with any sort of advice for moving forward. They said his heart was as healthy as it had been before his first heart attack, perhaps even more so. Clark's dad was going to live.

And that changed everything.

It wasn't just the fact that they had been living with the mindset that every holiday, every birthday, every tradition, every meal could be the last their family spent together. Even now, that was always true, even if it had been a lot more likely when their father's days were numbered by his disease.

It wasn't just the fact that the burden of taking care of the farm no longer fell squarely on Clark and Lex. For the time being, it still did—it would be a little while before their father would be at full strength again.

And it wasn't even just the explanation of why Lex had taken Clark's heart cells, though he had desperately needed to know. He'd made the wrong call on that camping trip. He should have asked for the truth—it had set him free, knowing his brother hadn't been trying to sadistically manipulate him for no reason.

More than anything, it was the lack of a deadline on his recovery. He had never even thought about it, but before, Clark had been buried under the crushing weight of not only believing that his brother had harmed him maliciously, but also knowing deep down that he had limited time to heal. If Clark couldn't figure out how to fully forgive and trust Lex before his father passed, they would never have a single day of being a happy family again. That rested on Clark's shoulders—the burden of finding a way to recover on an impossible time table, when the knowledge of his father's impending death made it doubly impossible to think about anything in a positive light.

But his father was going to live. Clark didn't have to put on a brave face to protect his father's health, and he didn't have to rush to forgive. He could take his own time.

And with the pressure off, he found it took no time at all. At last, Clark was at peace.

Jonathan could never have deserved the number of second chances he'd been given in his lifetime, but he was determined to try.

It wasn't enough to try to be the husband and father his hurting family needed. He would be what they needed. That meant using everything he'd learned from them over the past couple of years. It meant allowing Martha to experiment with low-sodium recipes for her own peace of mind, and not complaining. It meant letting his sons help him with what needed to be done on the farm, so that Jonathan himself could recover faster and help them more in the long run. It meant listening to Lex's requests about what to do with the money that had once been his, and allowing him to make life a little easier on all of them, while still holding firm the boundaries he'd set—Lex still needed to be parented the way any teenager did.

Meanwhile, Clark didn't, not anymore. And Jonathan had to accept that, too.

A month after his heart attack, he called Clark out into the barn after dinner to talk alone. Clark had been easygoing all day, but at the request, his shoulders showed a bit of tension, his brow furrowed. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, following his father up into the loft.

"No, son. No, have a seat."

They sat across from each other, Clark a little hesitantly.

"The reason I wanted to talk to you is . . . well, I'm proud of you, son."

Clark's shoulders relaxed, but the confusion on his face remained. "Thanks, Dad."

"You've come a long way over the past couple of years. You've always been a good kid, and you've always worked hard, but you've become an honest and caring young man. We've always known you had great things in your future . . ."

"Dad." Clark looked him in the eyes. "Where is this going?"

"Clark . . . I think it's time for you to move on."

"What?"

"Now, I'm not kicking you out. You have a home here for as long as you need it. But you've been taking care of our family, taking care of this farm, for a long time, and you deserve to have your own life."

"Dad, no. The farm still needs me."

"That's just the thing, Clark. We'll be fine without you. It's not your job to sustain this family. You'll always be a part of it, but . . ." Jonathan smiled. "Like I said, son. It's up to you. But be honest with yourself. Do you really want to be a farmer?"

Clark looked down. "No, sir."

"No." Jonathan took a deep breath. "Your brother's been begging us to use his money to put you through college."

Clark shook his head. "This family needs me. Lex . . ."

"Lex is healing. Judging by what he was doing with your heart cells, I'm guessing he didn't have as far to go as we thought."

"I don't want to abandon you."

"We'll still be here when you get back."

Clark looked up at his dad. "Won't Lex have moved out?"

"Maybe." Jonathan secretly hoped so-he wasn't as close to readiness as Clark was, but it wouldn't take years. "But I expect we'll all be back together for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Maybe with grandkids, someday." Jonathan winked.

"Dad." Clark's voice caught, then his face grew serious again. "I don't know what I want to study."

"Well, that's the great thing about college. You can go in undeclared, find out what you want to do along the way."

"The new semester starts next month."

"It's too late for most universities. But Lex found a few that fill open spots with last-minute applications." Jonathan stood, and he clapped his son's shoulder. "Just think about it."

Clark nodded, and he stayed behind in the loft. Jonathan left him to his thoughts. It was the best thing he could do for his son.