Bluegrass Symphony - 2. Papaw

The next morning, Saturday dawned bright and clear. For Wren, the day began as an awkward study in silence and avoidance as he and Travis went through their a.m. routines in the small space of the apartment. Wren regretted what he had done the night before under the influence of the booze but couldn't find a way to apologize to Travis without doing even more harm to their strained relationship.

Instead of hanging out at home and in the path of his uncommunicative roommate, Wren walked to a local coffee shop. After he got his beverage, he sat with his laptop and opened the AutoCAD Architect program. It was an old computer, so it took a bit of time for it to process its way through the startup of AutoCAD. He leaned back to sip his coffee while the program loaded.

Wren looked outside at the busy street. It was only eight in the morning, but it was already bustling. Cars, pedestrians, and buses all made for a constant drone of noise, even through the thick double-paned glass of the shop. A wistful look settled on Wren's face as he stared, eyes unfocused at the scene. 'It's always moving. There's so much happening, all the time.' There was inexplicable tiredness in Wren's thoughts and an indefinable longing in his chest.

He blinked and pulled himself out of the little daydream. 'Okay. Let's build something. That'll help.' Wren wasn't even sure what the sensation was that he strove to ignore, but he set out to focus on something other than his own vague restlessness.

The program finally loaded and Wren began a new project. He considered what sort of home he wanted to design. He tended to focus on small, efficient structures and found it a triumph if he created a tiny house with all of the amenities and storage space required for modern living. Wren smiled as he went about the pleasurable task he had set before himself, and his green eyes reflected the screen while he worked.

He was two hours and another cup of coffee into his design when his phone buzzed. Wren looked at it. "Oh. Mom." That strange ache in his chest flared again, and he swallowed.

Wren answered. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, sweetie."

Wren heard the drained, stressed tone in her voice. "Mom?" He stood and walked toward the door. "What's wrong?" He pushed outside and plugged his other ear with his finger so he could hear.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "Your papaw is gone. Charles and Caleb found him this morning out in the garden."

A knot rose in Wren's throat. "Oh. Oh no." He blinked, and his eyes stung. He put a hand over his mouth and silently shook his head. Out of all of his kin, his grandfather was the man Wren was closest to, and the only relative he felt was worth knowing on his father's side.

"Wren? Are you there, honey?" Rachel Hambrick sniffed through the connection.

He cleared his throat and blinked tears from his eyes. "I'm here, Mom. Do they know what happened?"

She sighed. "It was his heart, hon. Papaw was an old man, you know he had trouble."

Although his mother's words were kind, he still felt shame. His grandfather's eighty-third birthday was just a few weeks past, and Wren hadn't gone home for it - the first time he hadn't since moving from Kentucky six years ago.

Wren forced himself to push back on his emotions. He needed to think. "What's next? Did they set up the funeral and the viewing already?"

"They did." Her voice hardened. "I asked for more time, but those boys are awful eager to put their daddy in the ground. They're doing the viewing in two days at Malone's, the funeral will be the day after, up on the hill." His mother's tone shifted to hopeful. "Can you come home? Can you get here in time?"

Wren knew that financially it was going to be a heavy lift. He set his jaw. "Yes. I'm coming home, and I’ll be there for all of it." He still had six hundred bucks left in his account after he paid rent. That was to be his spending money for the month, but no longer.

"Oh, thank the lord." Her relief was palpable over the phone. "It has to be expensive - the trip. I wish I could help you, son…"

"No, Mom. I know it's hard for you, and I’ll find a way." Wren remembered what it was like growing up in the north-eastern corner of Kentucky. He knew very well the struggles his mother had with money. He nodded to himself. "Okay. I'm gonna go. I'll let you know my flight information, but I'm probably going to fly into Huntington. Can you pick me up, or should I rent a car?"

"I'll come get you. You make it to Huntington, and I'll do the rest. Least I can do."

Rachel's help took a load off of Wren's mind. A rental would be that much more money to spend. "Thanks, Mom." He took a deep breath and wiped his face. "I'll call you soon. Love you."

"I love you, honey. You be careful, okay?"

"I will. Thanks for calling. Bye for now." Wren hung up, reentered the coffee shop and closed his little strawbale cottage project. Then he jumped online to look at airfare.

Ten minutes later Wren had a flight booked for five o'clock the next morning. The return trip was six days after, the following Saturday. He also called his manager at the cafe and told her he would need the week off for a family emergency. She grumbled, but Wren was a good worker, and hardly ever missed shifts so she assured him he'd still have a job when he returned.

Wren packed up his computer and put it into his backpack. He numbly walked home.

He had spent almost all the money in the account on his round-trip ticket, and by the time he got to his apartment he had accepted that he would have to use the credit card for an Uber, and then other expenses as well. Wren hated debt, but he didn't have a choice.

He entered, and Travis looked around the partition from the kitchen. It smelled as if he were making cheesy food of some sort. Travis wordlessly ducked out of sight and went back to cooking his breakfast.

Wren didn't care about Travis at the moment. He pulled his suitcase out of its usual spot tucked away on the bottom of the hall closet. He lay the case on the futon, unzipped it and then went back to the hall closet. There was a short, three-drawer dresser in there as well, and he began to pack for a week away - which amounted to nearly all the clothing Wren owned.

Travis reappeared and frowned as the dark-haired man packed. "What's going on?" He glanced at the suitcase and swallowed. "Are, are you moving?" Wren heard a hopeful note in Travis's voice.

"No. I have to fly home tomorrow." He didn't know why but it seemed very important that he take his grandmother's quilt with him. Wren folded and stuffed it into his suitcase. Now filled to near-bursting, he strained to zip it shut.

Travis watched him. "What for?"

Wren finally got the zipper closed, and he stood with the suitcase. "Funeral." He lugged it over beside the door. "I'll be out the door at three-thirty. My flight is at five. Be gone all week." Wren's voice was level, utterly devoid of inflection as he tried to function through his grief.

Travis was silent as Wren found the clothes he wanted to wear for the trip itself. Wren glanced at him, and finally, Travis turned and went back into the kitchen.

Wren's roommate disappeared with a plate of scrambled eggs topped with melted cheese into his bedroom. Wren opened his laptop and went through his travel itinerary once again. He'd fly from San Diego to Chicago, then a jump to Huntington, West Virginia. His layover in Chicago was a little over an hour. That was a good thing - O’Hare was a beast of an airport.

While he checked his travel plans, Wren heard Travis talking on his phone behind the bedroom door. Again, he was supremely unconcerned with Travis and continued to search through options for Uber. He discovered he could schedule a pick-up and he started inputting his information.

Travis exited his room and shuffled out into the living space. "Hey, Wren."

Wren looked up at him. The knowledge of his loss began to sneak past his defenses, and Wren wiped his face as tears reappeared. "Yeah?"

Travis wet his lips. He looked almost nervous. "So, I can take you tomorrow. To the airport."

Wren openly frowned at him. It was such an unexpected thing from Travis. "Really?"

Travis nodded. "Yeah. I'll take you. Do you need to be picked up too?"

Wren almost couldn't believe it. "Yes." He blinked and made himself stand up. "Hey, I'm really sorry. About yesterday." He sniffed and shook his head. "I was drunk, and…"

"Wren," Travis's eyes were intense as he stared, "nothing happened yesterday. Nothing." Travis cocked his head. "Right?"

There was both desperation and seriousness in that stare. Wren bit his lip and nodded. "Right. Nothing." It occurred to Wren that Travis was buying his silence with the free rides to and from the airport.

Travis grunted, happy with the response. "Good." He turned, headed back to his bedroom. "We've still got the whole day, but get me up tomorrow when you need to go. I can be ready in like two minutes."

Wren watched until Travis closed the bedroom door behind himself. Even through his tears, he smiled.

"Maybe he's not so bad."

⤱

Three a.m. was a terribly early hour to wake. Wren stumbled through a shortened, hurried morning routine, then he gently knocked on Travis's door around twenty-five after. His roommate opened it, blinked, a little bleary-eyed, but he got on with his promised help without complaint.

Travis drove on nearly empty streets and highways to the airport, the car silent. Wren was tired but also filled with the jitters that always accompanied him when he traveled. He drummed his fingers on his knees as they pulled up to the curb.

Wren opened his door. "Hey, thanks for the ride." He smiled. "I mean it."

Travis nodded, his jaw clenched, and his eyes straight ahead. Wren frowned slightly, but he let it go. A few moments later he had removed his luggage and set it beside the car.

Travis glanced at him. "Got everything?"

"Uh, yeah." Wren shrugged into his backpack, destined to be his carry-on item.

"Okay. Well, see ya." Travis put the car into gear.

"Wait!" Wren stopped him from driving off and chuckled. "Uh, we didn't talk about when I come back."

"Ah, oh yeah."

He went over his return itinerary, but the sleepy, tired face of Travis didn't seem to absorb it. Wren grimaced. “You know, I'll just text you. That work?"

Travis nodded and yawned.

A short time later Travis was back on the road, and Wren entered the airport.

At that early hour, he was through security fast and smooth. Wren quickly found his gate, and he took a seat with a half-hour before boarding.

He spent some time looking through his phone. Every year when Wren went home for his annual visit, he had spent most of his time with his papaw Hambrick. The old man always put him to work, helping out here and there on the farm. Along with his buddy, Charles, they did as much as they could for him in the time Wren was there. Charles had taken many pictures of Wren working and with his granddad.

He smiled sadly as he swiped through the photos. His grandfather was in excellent condition for his age. Though the later years began to show through in his frame, the old fellow never lost his drive and spark for his chosen way of life - growing vegetables and raising chickens on sixty-five acres of almost-wild land.

He grinned down at an older picture taken five years ago by his grandfather when Wren had visited during a break in his studies. The photo showed Wren, Charles, and Charles's younger brother, Caleb sitting on the porch on a warm spring day. Each had a soda in hand and they all looked out over the garden they had just finished plowing, sweaty and satisfied.

The boarding call crackled over speakers in Wren's terminal. He stood, gathered his things, and soon he boarded and carefully picked his way down the narrow aisle of the plane.

Wren settled into his seat and put away his backpack under the seat in front of him. After another twenty minutes, the plane accelerated, lifted into the air, and he was on the way to Chicago.

⤱

Wren spent the next seven hours traveling and landed in Huntington at the local time of four-thirty in the afternoon. He retrieved his luggage and wearily carried his suitcase in one hand with a backpack on his other shoulder.

He stepped outside into the coolness of the Appalachian March. It was sunny, with a few puffy clouds against a backdrop of a blue sky, and the ground was wet. It had rained sometime recently, and the smell of wet pavement and earth lay over everything.

His mother’s old, multi-colored Chevy truck was parked in the loading zone, and he hurried over. Even before he opened the door, he saw her face light up.

He put his things behind the seat, then he got in the truck. “Oh, honey.” Rachel smiled and patted Wren’s leg. “I wish the reason was different for your visit, but it’s real good to see you.”

Wren leaned over and gave her an awkward hug from the passenger seat. "It's great to see you too, Mom." He looked at her as they parted. There were a few more grays in her black hair, but she still looked good for her forty-five years.

She grinned at him. "Aww. You are so handsome. You must have all the ladies tied up in knots over in California." She put the truck into gear.

Wren gave her a watery smile. "Ah, not really."

She patted his leg once more. "Well, I'm sure it'll happen, hon."

The line of discussion ended, and Wren was thankful for that. They pulled away and started on the trip home. Soon they were on the sixty-four, cruising along.

"So, how has everything been?" Wren clenched his jaw. "Have the uncles been decent to you?"

Rachel had married into the Hambrick family. Her husband and Wren's father, Adam, left them when Wren was fourteen. He just disappeared. There was no word, no reason, he just up and left. Wren always wondered if maybe he was the cause. Maybe Adam knew that Wren was gay before Wren had even figured it out, and as a consequence had abandoned them both. The thought had crossed Wren's mind more than once, and it was one reason he kept his sexuality a closely-guarded secret from his family and friends in the Bluegrass state.

Wren didn't know what else it could have been to drive him away. Their family lives weren't perfect, but Wren didn't think things were horrible. His mother was also at a loss. She had truly believed that Adam was her partner for life, but one Wednesday morning he had left to supposedly work the farm and never returned.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Oh, they've been something."

Wren frowned. That was about the meanest thing she could say about anyone. Before he could ask follow up questions she chuckled. "Don't you worry. The Shaw boys have been real good to have around. Especially that Caleb." Her eyes widened, and she tilted her head to accent her statement.

Wren frowned. Caleb was Charles's younger brother, behind them by two years. The last time Wren saw him was five years ago before Caleb went to college. At the time he had been a gangly beanpole of a guy. Quiet, tall, and a good worker, he was always just a bit too serious for Wren, but he was a good boy.

"Well, good. I'm glad Charles and Caleb have helped out. They always pitched in for papaw too." Wren sighed. "I'm sorry. I should visit more often."

"Honey, I know you got your life in California." Rachel smiled as she drove the truck west. "I'm so proud of you, getting that degree." She nodded. "That's something. You're the first in the family." She made a sound of realization. "You an' Caleb both finished almost at the same time. Though he only went to college four years."

Wren eyed her. She had talked about Caleb an awful lot. "So, what did the Shaw boys do to keep the uncles off your back?"

Rachel pressed her lips together and smiled at the same time. It looked as if she were about to burst out in a laugh. "Well, after Caleb got back from college he started coming down and helping on the property. He said he didn't have any work, but I know that boy wasn't looking. With his help, I was able to get the farm ready for spring, in time for the planting. Once the uncles realized I wouldn't have to sell, they let me be."

Rachel's house, the place where Wren grew up, sat on a productive, low-lying, fertile slice of land that widened into a wedge deeper into the property. His father had owned it, and even before Adam disappeared, his three brothers had all tried to buy him out. He always gently refused, and after Adam had gone their efforts increased. It was only through the efforts of the Shaw boys and Wren that she managed to make a profit on the farm and hang on to it.

She sighed. "It's a pity, the way your uncles circle the place. Of course, they don't lift a hand to help me. They want the property and, eventually, they'll probably get it and raise that tobacco. Caleb can't help me forever, and Charles has that new baby." Her voice quieted to almost nothing. "And you have your life in California."

Wren swallowed. "I didn't know it was that bad, Mom. You never told me."

They passed over the state line, and now they were in Kentucky, though they still had forty more minutes before they got to the family farm. Rachel shook her head. "Of course I didn't tell you. I didn't want you feelin' like you had to stay for me. You had your school and your own life." She set her jaw, and in that expression, he saw some of himself. "I'm still here. Much to the surprise of your uncles, it has worked out."

Wren looked at her in profile, then he relaxed back into the vinyl seat. 'I owe the Shaw boys. A lot, from the sound of it.' Wren was determined to see and thank both of them, but particularly Caleb.

As they pulled up to his mother's home in the approaching dusk, he got out of the truck and took a deep breath. The air was fresh, clean, and it felt almost like a drug as it filled his lungs. His mother's door opened and snapped him out of his reverie. Wren pulled his bags from the truck and followed Rachel up the steps onto the wide, wooden porch. Before he went inside, he swept his eyes over the yard.

The creek ran off to the left, about fifty feet from the house. An old wooden bridge spanned it, and a narrow path led away to cut up the hillside to the road above. A gravel driveway gave way to a little vibrant field of grass which blanketed the area directly in front of the home. A few hens were still out, and they clucked worriedly at their fluffy, yellow chicks in the growing darkness. The little avian families hurried on their way to the coops behind the house. Wren saw no less than three cats - long, lean, efficient hunters. Half-feral, they provided a needed service by prowling the farm for rodents and other pests. Though currently, they all lazed about in the tall grass bordering the yard.

He smiled. Wren let his suitcase settle on the porch, and he just listened.

'No cars. No busses. No people.' He swallowed and heard the babbling sound of the nearby stream. His memory caused him to relive playing in the water during the summer, sometimes alone, sometimes with Charles and Caleb.

Charles was almost like a brother to him, and Caleb tagged along whenever he could, a mostly-silent shadow, just happy to be with them. Charles was by far Wren's best friend growing up. He never understood the need Wren had to escape the state. Wren had never told him about his sexuality, and he didn't have plans to do so.

The door opened, and Rachel poked her head outside. "Wren? You coming?"

"Yeah." He picked up his suitcase and followed her inside.

The house was as he remembered. It was a two-bedroom, ranch-style home. There was nothing extraordinary about it, other than his father's "man room." Adam had built an addition to the house, and it was now the first room as a person entered. The room was a long rectangle that ran the whole width of the home. In it was a wood stove, multiple mounted white-tail deer heads on the walls, two easy-chairs, a couch, and three empty gun racks. Wren knew those racks used to hold a variety of rifles, but those were better times.

He followed Rachel through to the kitchen, then to the back bedroom where he'd sleep. As Wren put his suitcase down on the bed and dropped his backpack beside it, she patted his back. "Son, are you hungry? I can make us something."

"Yeah. I'm starving."

Wren followed her back out to the kitchen. When he tried to help her, she waved him off. So he sat at the table, a glass of water in front of him, and smelled the delicious aroma of frying hamburger patties.

He watched her put their burgers together. "Mom, will Charles and Caleb be around tomorrow? I really need to talk to them."

Rachel nodded as she slid the plate with Wren's burger in front of him. "I expect so. They've been real good about checking on me - coming by a couple of times yesterday. Plus, the viewing is tomorrow. So we'll see them there, if not before."

"Okay. Good."

Wren and his mother sat in near-silence as they ate their uncomplicated yet flavorful burgers. Both seemed lost in thought, and Wren felt the heaviness of their loss hanging over them.

They finished, and Rachel rose to collect their plates. She washed dishes, and the silence grew. She turned off the water, dried her hands on an old, threadbare rag, and she watched Wren as he stifled a yawn. "You've been going all day." She smiled. "Go an' lay down. I'll make sure you get up at a decent hour."

Wren nodded, and he pushed himself to his feet. "Okay." He stepped over and gave her a hug. "I love you, Mom."

"Love you, Wren." She patted his back while she held him close.

Wren left her in the kitchen and closed the bedroom door behind him. Soon he had stripped to his briefs and he climbed into bed. Thanks to the early start and his long hours of travel, Wren passed out almost immediately and slept deeply.