Elias resisted the idea at first.
He had been born in Wyoming.
His parents were buried there.
Ruth was buried on a low hill outside the little town.
Everything he understood about the world seemed tied to that soil.
But Ben had spent too many years trying to keep the ranch alive through debt and grief.
One evening, Ben laid the employment letter on the kitchen table.
“Dad, I need to give Alice something steadier.”
Elias studied the paper.
“What about the ranch?”
“We can lease it.
Maybe come back someday.”
“And where do I fit into this plan?”
Ben hesitated.
“With us, if you’ll come.”
Elias looked toward the hallway, where Alice was playing with wooden animals on the floor.
She had lined the horses up beside a toy barn.
He watched her move a little figure toward the door and announce that everybody was going home.
After a long silence, he turned back to Ben.
“How much room does that place in Chicago have?”
Ben smiled.
“Enough for the three of us.”
Elias grunted.
“Better be a good kitchen.”
“Why?”
“Because that little girl deserves more than your cooking.”
Ben laughed.
And just like that, the decision was made.
The day they left, Alice stood beside the truck with tears running down her cheeks.
She did not want to say goodbye to Juniper.
Elias knelt beside her, though his knees protested.
“Listen to me, sweetheart.
Juniper isn’t going anywhere.”
“But we’re going.”
“That’s true.”
“Will he forget me?”
“Not a chance.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You promise?”
Elias looked at the familiar pasture, the weathered barn, and the distant line of blue hills.
“I promise we’ll come back.
A home doesn’t stop being yours just because you have to leave it for a while.”
He said the words for Alice.
But he heard the pain in them himself.
Because there was another person who had left that ranch long before, believing that she could never return.
Chicago was difficult at first.
The air smelled of rain on pavement, gasoline, hot food from corner shops, and the cold wind blowing in from Lake Michigan.
Elias missed seeing the horizon.
He missed the way people in Wyoming waved from passing trucks whether they knew each other or not.
In Chicago, everyone seemed to be going somewhere too quickly to notice anyone else.
Their apartment was small but clean.
Ben took the bedroom nearest the street.
Alice had the little room beside the kitchen.
Elias slept in the third room, which had once been used for storage.
The first week, he woke before sunrise and reached for his boots, only to remember there were no cattle to feed.
He did not know what to do with his hands.
Then Alice asked him to help with her breakfast.
He made oatmeal.
The next day, he made eggs.
On the third morning, he walked her to school.
Soon he was picking her up every afternoon, making simple suppers, repairing loose cupboard handles, and learning which grocery store had the best prices.
He found a small patch of earth beside the apartment building where the owner allowed him to plant a few vegetables.
The soil was poor.
The sun reached it for only part of the day.
But Elias worked it carefully.
He grew beans, tomatoes, and a row of marigolds because Ruth had always liked them.
Alice helped by carrying a little watering can.
One afternoon, she found him kneeling beside a tomato plant.
“Grandpa, why do you talk to the flowers?”
Elias pretended to consider.
“Because they listen better than people.”
Alice frowned.
“I listen.”
“That you do.”
She sat beside him.
“Tell me something.”
“What would you like to know?”
She pointed toward the plants.
“Do flowers get lonely?”
Elias looked at the marigolds.
“Maybe when they’re planted too far apart.”
Alice thought for a moment.
“Then we should plant more.”
He smiled.
“Maybe we should.”
She took his hand.
“People get lonely too.”
He glanced at her.
“Yes, sweetheart.
They do.”
“Do you?”
The question surprised him.
He could have said no.
He could have told her that he was perfectly happy.
Instead, he gave her the truth.
“Sometimes.”
Alice squeezed his hand.
“Well, you’ve got me.”
His smile trembled.
“Yes, little one.
I’ve got you.”
And for a while, that was enough.
Money was always a concern.
Ben worked long hours, often taking overnight freight routes to neighboring states.
The pay kept their rent current and food in the cupboards, but there was little left after utilities, truck repairs, school supplies, and the bills from their move.
Elias received a small monthly retirement payment.
He contributed what he could and saved the rest in an old brown envelope inside his dresser.
He did not like asking Ben for anything.
