Chapter 22 - Clayton Returns to Magnolia Once
I changed my mind.
Twenty years after breakfast, I invited Clayton to Magnolia Hall.
One time.
Why?
Ruth’s memorial exhibition.
Not about scandal.
Her agricultural work.
Historic preservation.
Employee ownership.
Clayton had known her.
Loved her in his way.
I asked:
“Do you want to come?”
He took hours.
“Yes.”
Then:
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He arrived alone.
No media.
No special seat.
Stopped at front doors.
“I thought I’d feel entitled.”
“What?”
“To be here.”
“And?”
“I feel like guest.”
“Good.”
He smiled.
We walked orchard.
He touched one tree Ruth planted.
“She hated me by end.”
“No.”
“You always say that.”
“Because she didn’t.”
Then:
“She hated what you did.”
Different.
He looked at house.
“Did she ever think of selling?”
“Yes.”
Clayton stared.
“What?”
“Operating interests. Parts. She wasn’t religious about acreage.”
He laughed bitterly.
“I nearly destroyed everyone trying to force something she might have considered if I’d just asked honestly.”
“Maybe.”
That word.
No alternate certainty.
Then we entered breakfast room.
Round table.
He stopped.
“Where’s head chair?”
“Gone.”
“Because me?”
“Partly Ruth.”
He laughed.
Then looked toward spot where he attacked me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Then:
“I’ll leave.”
“Stay for exhibit.”
He did.
No problem.
Before leaving, he asked:
“Can I ever come back?”
I thought.
“No.”
A beat.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
That was the full circle.
No accepted without punishment.
He left.
I watched from window.
May you like
No triumph.
Just peace.
