Homecoming

Randall comes home by bus.

The Greyhound takes him to the edge and barely stops to drop him off. He hitches a ride to the center of town, where school is just getting out. Ellis is still driving after all these years, and when he offers her his finest Army salute, she pulls the yellow bus over and welcomes him aboard, just as she did on his first day of first grade and the last day of eighth. The kids on the bus look at his uniform and his duffel, and without knowing what else to do, he asks:

"Do any of y'all know what's underneath this bus?"

They shake their heads like a bunch of owls.

He leans in, gets into it. "There's two wizbangers, a coil of whoopsy, six rattatatts and a drop-bang with a kick like a rifle."

Their impressed reactions are worth it.

Ellis keeps him until she's finished the route. She doesn't ask much as he moves up to ride shotgun, standing over her shoulder, but she catches him up on the town gossip. As his house pulls into view, she stops. Randall swallows the lump in his throat but he can't stop himself from just a bit of manly weeping.

Ellis looks up at him and says, "Listen, Randy, Zola's not home right yet. She come in today to Doc Beaumont's. I saw her there when I brought my Shiloh in on account of her not healing as fast as I'd like to see after her last litter. She should be - "

She stops when she realizes Randall isn't listening. He's staring at the house, feet suddenly stuck. "Miz Ellis," he says finally. "The pear tree. Did she do that herself?" The image of Zola on a ladder, wielding a pair of shears and a look of concentration emerges against the perfectly pruned branches. That was always his job. He hadn't given thought to who might care for the fruit trees while he was away.

Ellis peers out the bus window. "I'm sure she thought you'd like it."

"Oh I do," he says. "I'm just so - she did it without me," he says, unable to explain further. Ellis reaches up and clumsily pats his hand.

"She did lots of things without you," she says. "But you're home now, and I promise you, son, there's nothing more she's wanted the whole time you've been gone. You oughta be proud of 'er."

"Oh I am," Randall says, finally finding some movement in his feet. "I am so proud of her." He bends down and impulsively kisses Ellis's cheek, then breaks down the steps so fast she hardly has time to open the door for him.

Randall goes up the path, bag slung over his shoulder and stops for one more moment as Ellis honks and starts to drive off. Suddenly, he drops the bag, turns on his heel and starts to head for town.

He isn't on the road half a mile before he sees his trusty, rusty old DeSoto coming toward him like a cheerful dog in need of a belly rub. He sticks his thumb out, unable to keep the grin from taking over his face.

Zola pulls over so fast she hits a puddle and spatters him up to his chin, but it don't matter. She leaps into his arms, legs wrapped around his hips and kisses him so hard he sees stars.

It isn't until he hears a little voice yelling, "Mama!" that he remembers there's a whole other half of his world he's come home to. He lets go of Zola and bends to peer into the back seat. He can see the memory of the baby he left in the towheaded toddler now peering curiously at him from the other side of the car.

"Hi there, Billy," he says, unable to keep his voice from breaking just a little. "I'm your daddy. I'm home."