Chapter 12: The Apprentice’s Call

Liam calls Patrick from Rustwood to ask for advice on fixing an engine. The conversation grounds Patrick, reminding him of his comfort zone, but also plants the seed of doubt about whether he belongs in Amelia's life.

Patrick Walsh sat on the patio of Amelia's expansive Silicon Valley mansion, the setting sun casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. Despite the breathtaking view, he felt out of place. The sleek furniture, the polished marble, and the distant hum of high-tech security systems all seemed worlds apart from the rusted tools and creaky rocking chair on his porch back in Rustwood. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.

The distant buzz of his phone broke his reverie. Fishing the device out of his jacket pocket, Patrick frowned at the screen. Liam is his apprentice from back home. A small smile tugged at his lips as he answered.

"Hey, kid," Patrick greeted, his voice warming for the first time that day. "What's going on?"

"Patrick! Thank God you picked up," Liam's voice crackled through the line, a mixture of urgency and relief. "I've got a problem with the Jenkins tractor. It's making this awful grinding noise, and I can't figure out what's causing it."

Patrick leaned forward, his focus sharpening. "Grinding, huh? Does it happen when you start it up or when you're shifting gears?"

"Mostly when it's running," Liam explained. "I've checked the transmission fluid and it's fine. I even looked at the belts. Still can't find the issue."

Patrick scratched his chin, picturing the old machine in his mind. "Did you check the clutch plate? If it's worn or cracked, that could cause grinding."

"The clutch plate..." Liam repeated, his voice thoughtful. "I didn't think to look there."

"Well, that's your first stop," Patrick said. "If it's not that, it might be the flywheel. Either way, don't force it. You'll make it worse."

"Got it," Liam replied. There was a pause before he added, "Thanks, Patrick. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Patrick chuckled softly. "You'd figure it out. You're a quick learner, kid. Just don't get cocky."

The line went quiet for a moment, save for the faint hum of background noise. Then Liam spoke again, his tone more hesitant. "How's it going out there? In Silicon Valley, I mean."

Patrick leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "It's...different," he admitted. "Feels like a whole other planet compared to Rustwood."

"Bet it's fancy," Liam said, a hint of awe in his voice. "Bet they've got machines there that do half the work for you."

Patrick smiled faintly. "They do. But I'll tell you something, it doesn't make the work any easier."

"Really?" Liam asked, sounding skeptical. "I figured with all that tech, everything would be smoother."

"That's the thing about tech," Patrick said, his tone thoughtful. "It can make life easier, sure. But it doesn't solve every problem. Sometimes, it just makes them more complicated."

Liam was quiet for a moment before saying, "Sounds like you miss home."

Patrick's smile faded slightly. "Yeah, kid. I do."

The weight of his admission settled over him as the conversation wound down. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Patrick ended the call and set his phone on the table. He stared out at the horizon, the orange and pink hues of the sunset blending into the distant hills.

The call had stirred something in him, a longing for the simplicity of home, for the satisfaction of solving problems with his own two hands. But it also left him with a nagging doubt. Rustwood was where he belonged, where his roots were. Here, in Amelia's world of high stakes and constant motion, he felt like a relic of another time.

As the sky darkened and the first stars began to appear, Patrick made his way back inside the mansion. The gleaming floors and automated lighting felt as foreign as ever. He paused in the hallway, glancing at a framed photo on the wall, a picture of Amelia as a child, standing proudly beside him in his workshop, holding a wrench that was almost too big for her.

He touched the edge of the frame, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. "What are we doing here, Amelia?" he muttered under his breath.

The question lingered as he headed toward the guest room, his footsteps echoing in the vast, empty halls.