Chapter 13: Joe

When Joe arrived home that evening, he idled down the drive and pulled the truck up near the house. As he parked, he could see lights across the fields over at the Thompson farm. A light glow from the setting sun still filled the sky enough for Joe to make out a car parked in the drive. He worried for a minute that it might be the car from that morning. Joe studied the car's silhouette a moment longer and turned his gaze from across the field to the porch where his father sat. Joe waved to him as he stepped from the truck and walked toward the steps. When he reached the top of the stairs, he stopped by one of the posts and rested his shoulder on it.

"How are you doing Pop?"

Henry didn't look at Joe. He still concentrated on the horizon.

"Fine, son-fine."

After a moment, he turned to see Joe still leaning on the post. He noticed the silly grin on his face.

"Well, what the hell are you grinning about?"

Joe stood up from where he rested.

"Nothing, Pop, nothing at all."

Joe started for the door.

"You eat yet?"

He walked toward the door, not waiting on his father to answer, and disappeared inside. Joe walked into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator. He pulled several glass containers from inside and threw together some leftover pork chops and corn they'd had the night before. He warmed his leftover concoction on the stove in a large iron skillet, and as he stood there working, he began to whistle. Henry walked in from outside, and when he heard Joe whistling, he just stood and watched him. Joe used to whistle all the time before the war. He did it mostly out of habit, but it had been years since his father had heard him.

Henry made his way to the table all the while still studying Joe. He had expected him to be in his normal, quiet mood, but this evening something was different. Joe turned from where he stood and looked to his father, who continued staring.

"Something wrong, Dad?"

Henry shook his head.

"No, nothing's wrong, just-ª"

Joe interrupted. "Pop tell me something. Do you think everything happens for a reason, or do you think life's just a gamble?"

Henry leaned back in his chair. He didn't answer immediately; he only rubbed his chin and cleared his throat.

"Well, what the hell happened to you today? Why, when you left this morning, I thought you might never come back." Henry edged forward in his seat. "Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were almost happy!"

Joe turned his attention back to the stove. "Ah, hell, Dad, is it against the law for a guy to be in a good mood every once in a while? First, you want me in a good mood and then when I am you complain?"

Henry scoffed. "Son, you have been in a bad mood for the past three years- So yes, in your case it is against the law."

Joe grabbed two plates from the cabinet and dished out their dinner from the pan. He turned from the counter and put the plates on the table and then plopped down in his seat.

"Give it a rest, Dad."

Joe looked at his father across from him. He could see the puzzled look on his face.

"Alright, now I know something's up. Spill it," Henry said.

Joe looked down at his plate and then grabbed his fork; he poked at his food and then looked up. Joe scooped up some corn and took a bite as he scowled at his father.

"Pop, when was the last time you talked with the Thompsons down the way?"

Henry almost asked Joe what had gotten into him again, but he stopped. He balled his napkin up and tossed it to the table.

"Well, I guess it's been some time, two or three months, maybe." Henry grabbed his fork and looked over to Joe. "Why do you ask?"

Joe took another bite. "No reason, I just saw a car over there this evening and it made me think of them."

Joe smirked and looked away.

"And for some reason this morning I just started thinking about-"

Joe shifted in his seat.

"Well, about old memories."

Henry leaned back in his seat. He wasn't buying Joe's story. He knew all too well that Joe wasn't thinking about the Thompsons, but Elizabeth. Joe never looked up from his plate.

"You remember Elizabeth, don't you, Pop?"

Joe smirked.

"Well, I thought of her today, that's all."

Joe paused again, knowing all too well his father had seen through his charade.

Henry smirked.

"I haven't talked to them in some time, son."

He pointed at Joe with his fork.

"Maybe we should change that."

Joe looked over to him only half smiling.

"Maybe."

Joe turned his attention back to his meal. Henry sat for a moment longer, still dumbfounded by how Joe was acting. He took another bite and slowly chewed.

"You know-" Henry pointed at Joe again and squinted at him. "If I would have known that bringing up some damn girl would have cheered you up, I would have brought her up a long time ago. Hell, I would have brought up twenty different girls a day."

Henry mumbled to himself.

"Why the hell didn't I think of that sooner?"

Joe looked up, shaking his head.

"Are you done yet, Dad? And you don't even know twenty girls."

Henry couldn't help but laugh. "Some girl is all it took, huh?" He took another bite.

They finished the remainder of the meal mostly in silence. Henry would occasionally grumble under his breath as he expressed his amazement at Joe's mood. When Joe finished up, he walked over to the sink. Henry brought his plate over and Joe washed up the dishes. He finished cleaning up, then went back to the table and sat for a moment. He watched his father walk over to his beloved coffee pot as he poured himself his evening cup.

Joe shook his head.

"How the hell do you drink that stuff in the evening and sleep? It can't be good for you."

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Fifty years of doing it says you're wrong, and I'm doing just fine. You don't need to worry about me."

Joe mumbled under his breath. "Remember you said that the next time you start harassing me."

A scowl came to Henry's face as he took a big sip from his cup in defiance and walked to the stairs. He stopped at the landing before going around the corner.

"You know, it's good to see you smile again, Joe."

Joe mustered a crooked smile. "Night, Pop."

Joe sat at the table for a few more minutes, listening to the old house. He heard the crickets outside chirping and then he looked up to the ceiling as he heard his dad moving around in his room. He looked down to his watch taking a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He stood up from the table and walked out to the back porch.

Joe stood looking out over the fields; the glow of the moon had replaced the sunset casting a soft light across the field that comforted him for some reason. He breathed in the sultry evening air and then walked down to his truck. He reached through the window, grabbing his camera bag and made his way over to the old horse barn that served as his workshop. He walked across the long building and then stepped into his darkroom, flipping on the light.

Inside his shop, the tall walls were covered with hundreds of black-and-white sunrise shots with the occasional color photo thrown in. Joe crossed the room and walked up to his work area. He reached in his camera bag and grabbed the folder of negatives he'd brought from the office. Joe held them up to the light as he searched through the negatives, looking for the picture he wanted to print. He held the last page of negatives up, finding the picture he wanted.

Joe stepped over to his enlarger and flipped several switches on the wall. The room went dark and then a red lamp began to hum and flickered to life. He reached up to the enlarger, turning it on and loaded the negative into it. A blurry image appeared on the mat below. He adjusted the picture, trying to square it up, and then turned the focus knob on the side of the machine, bringing the picture into perfect focus.

The photo of the barn from that morning covered the mat. Joe studied the old structure and once again his thoughts turned to Elizabeth. Joe sat down on the stool in front of his desk. He couldn't shake her from his mind. He brought his hand to his face as he sighed and then rubbed his brow as he looked back to the image. Joe often took pictures these days, but he didn't print too many of the ones he didn't use for work., For some reason that evening he decided to print this one.

He clicked the light off on the enlarger and grabbed a piece of picture paper from the paper safe on the counter. He slid the paper under the enlarger and dropped a frame over it, locking the paper in place. He flipped a switch on the enlarger which beamed the light through the negative onto the paper. Joe began to count, as he had to wait just the right amount of time to make sure he didn't overexpose the paper, making the image too dark. He flicked the light off and pulled the photo paper out.

He carried the paper over to the sink and stood in front of three pans of fluid. He slid the paper into the first bath of developing fluid, and after a few seconds, he watched as the silver and grey pigments seemed to burn through the paper. Joe watched as the developing process slowed, and then he pulled the picture out of the developer and moved it over to the next fluid bath, which stopped the developing process.

After a minute, he removed it from the stop bath and placed it in the final fixing bath. When the picture was finished, he pulled it from the solution with his tongs and attached it to the clothesline that ran across the room. He watched as the fluid ran down its surface and dripped onto the floor. Joe studied the shot; he could see the rays of sunlight beaming through the open door on the barn. He could almost feel the sun's rays on his face. So many memories raced through his mind. Memories of his mother with her sunrise, and then Elizabeth was there.

He sat back down on his stool and looked around the room at all his pictures, and then his thoughts turned to his father. He couldn't help but think he was right. Maybe he was scared to face the world. Joe looked down to the ground, rubbing his neck. He sighed loudly once again and then stood up from where he sat. He started toward the door and as he stepped through it, he looked back to the picture hanging in the middle of the room.

Joe bit his lip as he contemplated the day for a moment longer, then flipped the light off and went to bed.