Summary: All roads lead to home, in the end. (Final chapter of the More than a Memory series, links to previous stories provided)

Rating PG   Word Count:  3711

Author’s note:  As stated in the summary, this is the last story of this series (spanning more than fifty years) so please consider reading the others first if you haven’t already, ideally in sequence.  Continuity and context matter; while you may enjoy this one on its own, you’ll be missing a great deal without it. Thank you.

More than a Memory series

More Than a Memory
Convergence
These are the Days
Bitter, Sweet, Wonderful Everything
The Homecoming — Requiem

 

 

“And what do all the great words come to in the end, but that?

I love you — I am at rest with you — I have come home.”

— Dorothy L. Sayers

 

1911

The house thrummed with the low murmur of voices without words, wisping through hallways like smoke, floating from corners where people had retreated. There was a clank of dishes in the kitchen where someone had assumed the task of washing up; the slow tick of an ancient clock on the mantel; the scrape of boots on the porch, the mournful creak of the sturdy front door as more family arrived.

It had been some years since all the children were home at the same time; how many, Joe Cartwright couldn’t remember. The house that had once held so much noise and laughter had grown quieter as each one left to make his way in the world. That was what they had been raised to do, and they had made their parents proud.

Outside, Joe pushed himself up from the rocking chair to greet the last ones expected. He stuck out his hand. “Commander Cartwright.”

Jordy clasped it, pulling him into an embrace. “Uncle Joe.” Drew did likewise. They had come together by train from Washington.

“How’s Pa?” asked Drew.

“Holding steady, I’d say. He had a pretty rough night earlier in the week, according to Adaline. Dan gave him something to help him sleep, but Adam said no more after that. He said he intended to be present.”

“I wish we could’ve gotten here sooner,” said Jordy.

“Everything happened so fast. No one expected it.”

Joe followed them inside, where Adaline met them with tears. The three siblings stood in a tight circle, consoling one another. John Adam emerged from the main bedroom, along with Jamie, joining the somber reunion.

“How is he?” Drew asked.

“His lungs are clear, no sign of relapse of the pneumonia, though he’s still pretty weak. He slept most of the morning, but he told Dan he wanted to be up when everyone came. It certainly has come in handy having a doctor in the family,” said John Adam. “He and Jarrod have been with him most of the time since it happened.”

“Adaline too of course,” said Jamie, directing a sad smile toward their sister. “Always the mother hen.”

Jarrod, a remarkable likeness of his father, owned the nearest ranch just a few miles away. Dr. Daniel Cartwright had an established medical practice in Reno. Adaline and her family lived in Carson City, as did John Adam and Jamie.

Per his wishes, Adam was seated in the chair, though he didn’t rise to greet them. Jordy and Drew each bent to kiss him. Joe blinked away tears as Jordy wept quietly with his father’s hand on his head.

“The first time I saw your mother, she was up on a ladder, painting a house. I thought she was a mirage.” A corner of Adam’s mouth turned up, hinting at a smile. “That was forty eight years ago.” He lifted his eyes toward the coffin on the bier in the corner, draped in a lace tablecloth Moira had made, and his voice softened. “A man meets a woman like that once in his life, if he’s lucky. And I was lucky.”

“Now,” he addressed his children, “I’m glad you’re all here because I have some things to say and I only want to say them once. I know at least some of you are worried that I’m going to give up now that your mother is gone. I have to admit the idea is tempting, but I also know how deeply that would disappoint her. So I intend to honor her memory and keep living what’s left of my life, the best way I can. But, and I guess I’m saying this mainly to you, Dan, still, I want the others to hear. Don’t work too hard to keep me here. Let me go in my time. Understood?”

Dan looked over the top of his glasses and met his father’s eyes, unsmiling. “I hear you, Pa. But your time’s not for a while yet, as long as you behave yourself.”

Jarrod patted Adam’s shoulder. “Better listen to him. He’s the smart one.”

Adam grunted. “You can all leave now. I’d like to talk to Joe.”

There was reluctance in their slow departure. Adaline stopped to kiss her father and whisper something to him. He patted her hand but didn’t look at her.

Joe pulled a ladderback chair from the corner and sat down opposite Adam. “What’s on your mind, big brother?”

“Nothing. Everything. I just needed to get out from under all those eyes.” He choked out a bitter laugh. “They’re watching me like a kettle of hawks.”

“Adam, you can’t blame them. They’re worried about you. Especially after the other night.”

Adam had been ill off and on since the winter, with two bouts of pneumonia, the second worst than the first. Moira had insisted on being his primary caregiver. It was what they both wanted, but it was taking a toll on her. Dan had finally convinced her to bring in a nurse, and the next day he ordered her to bed. It was distressing to Adam, though she assured him she was merely tired and needed rest. It was the last conversation they would ever have. Her death two days later stunned everyone, Adam most of all. Joe wasn’t there, but Jarrod told him his father was inconsolable, to the point that Dan dosed him with chloral hydrate to settle him down and get him to sleep.

Adam scrunched his brow at the memory of the night in question. The gun had been in the drawer of the bedside table, where he always kept it. “I wasn’t planning to use it, just removing the temptation. I was taking the bullets out when Adaline came in. You believe me, don’t you?”

“I believe you.”

“Well, they all think I’m on the brink of suicide.” He snorted, then swallowed a sob. “I just keep asking myself over and over, how could we not have known something was so wrong until it was too late?”

Joe had had a similar conversation with Dan, who was berating himself for being so focused on his father’s health that he missed what was happening with his mother. “Moira was never one to complain. You know that. Besides, there were a couple of times we thought we were gonna have to bury you, and that put you at the top of the list.”

“It should’ve been that way. I always expected to go first.”

“Life has a way of shattering expectations, doesn’t it?”

The pain etched in Adam’s face told a story of grief unspoken.“I never even got to say goodbye, Joe. That’s what hurts the most right now.”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that. But goodbye is just a word, Adam. You and Moira always seemed to understand each other without words. Between the two of you I can’t see any room for regret for things unsaid.”

“I can’t help thinking about Pa. How on earth was he able to survive this three times?”

“He didn’t just survive, he thrived. The man was a giant in so many ways. The older I get, the more I’m amazed at the life he lived. I’m glad Adaline is finally writing that book she’s talked about for so long. I just wish Pa could have been around to read it. Hoss, too.”

“So do I.”

Their father, active well into his eighties, had passed twenty years ago. Hoss had been gone close to ten, leaving a wife, a son and a daughter. Docia had remarried and moved to the Yakima Valley in Washington, where Althea and her family also lived. Josh had emigrated to Australia and was running a cattle station.

“You know, she could write a book about your family alone. Seven kids and how many grandchildren?”

“Twenty six or seven, Moira would know for sure. I can’t keep up. And don’t ask me their names. Some I’ve never even met, and last I heard there were three more on the way. Adaline’s a grandmother now, with two of her own.”

“Well, I always used to tell people, whenever Adam does something, it’s always in a big way. You proved me right by raising a dynasty of jackrabbits. Thanks to you, there are Cartwrights popping out all over.”

“And we all thought that would be you.”

Both brothers laughed before Joe turned serious. “I know tomorrow is going to be a really tough day, and I don’t expect you’ve given much thought beyond that, but I was wondering if you’re planning to stay here, or if you’d even want to? It was a big house for two people, and you didn’t use half of it.”

“You’re right, I haven’t given much thought to anything except putting one foot in front of the other to do what I know I have to do. That’s hard enough at the moment, believe me.”

“I understand. And I know this is not a time for major decisions. But when you get a little clarity, I wish you’d consider something.”

“What’s that?”

“Moving back to the Ponderosa.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m dead serious. Look, Adam. It makes sense. You have a huge house you don’t need, and your wonderful son, my brilliant nephew and his family are busting at the seams next door. Jarrod said he told you to name your price if you ever wanted to sell. He already owns most of your share of the Ponderosa anyway since Adaline and the boys sold him their part. All that’s left are the few acres the house is on.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

“What does Annabelle think?”

“I can honestly say she thinks it’s a great idea, because she thought of it first. But I would have if she hadn’t. With Benj and Sarah gone, our little nest is empty too. So you’d be doing us a favor. You could even have your old room back, if you wanted it.”

Adam smiled. His old room was the one he shared with Moira when he brought her to the Ponderosa as his wife. John Adam was born there. Long ago seemed liked yesterday.

“It’s a more than generous offer, little brother.”

“Promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I promise. Now, go home. You’ve spent enough time here this week. Go home to your sweet, lovely wife and thank her for me.”

Joe leaned forward. “Adam, if there’s anything…”

“I know. I’m all right, Joe. Besides, the troops are here.”

~*~

The graveside service was brief, for the sake of the younger children as well as Adam. He had refused to use a cane but was anchored between Jamie and Jarrod in case he faltered. To everyone’s relief, he didn’t. Back at the house, he received family and friends with patriarchal benevolence and good humor. It was no surprise to Joe, just another reminder that Adam was very much their father’s son.

He and Annabelle were among the last to leave. In spite of his stoicism, Adam’s eyes mirrored the pain of the day. Joe squeezed his shoulder an a gesture of affection. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Going somewhere?”

“No, but you’re staying home.”

“I am?”

“You are. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty. I’m going to try to send everyone else on their way soon, though it won’t be easy with Adaline. Wes and the family have gone back to Carson, so I guess she plans to stay a while longer. I’ll have to find her something to do so she won’t be fussing over me the whole time.”

Joe shook his head and begrudged him a wry grin. “All right, then. But don’t forget what we talked about.”

“I won’t.”

~*~

Later that evening, Adam and his sons gathered in the great room for brandy while the women put the children to bed. They had grown into fine, strong men, every one of them, but today at their mother’s grave, in a moment of silent reflection, Adam saw the faces of Moira’s boys. She had given them life, and she had been so proud of them.

John Adam cleared his throat and raised his glass. “To Mama, who taught us right from wrong, brought us up to be gentlemen, and who loved us unconditionally. How she survived our childhoods I’ll never know, but I’m forever grateful to be her son.”

“To Mama,” came the echo in chorus.

“And to our father,” said Jamie. “Who taught us to stand up for what we believe in, that some things are worth fighting for, and who showed us every day, in every way, what it means to truly love a woman. To Pa.”

“To Pa.”

Adam acknowledged them with a dip of his head and a smile, because he knew he couldn’t speak. His heart had flooded his throat with unshed tears. One by one his sons trickled out of the room on their way upstairs, embracing him as they took leave.

Only Dan remained behind. He was facing away from Adam, head down, one hand at his side holding his glasses.

“Dan?” No answer. “Daniel.”

He turned, his eyes full of anguish. “I’m sorry, Pa.”

“For what?”

“For not being able to save her.”

In that moment, Adam saw through the man standing before him to the solemn little boy who took so much of the world to heart, whose mother formed its center.

“Do you think there was something more you could have done, given what you knew?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “From what I understand, I think not. And your mother would never want you to blame yourself.” He placed a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder. “Danny, you’re a good doctor, but you’re not God, and no one expects you to be.”

He buried his face in Adam’s chest as they both wept.

~*~

The house was quiet now, with shades drawn and the last of the lamp lights extinguished. Adam lay in bed, weary and unsettled. Though his initial instinct had been to gracefully reject Joe’s idea, he made good on his promise to consider it. It was true about the house. Moira had even suggested turning it over to Jarrod and moving to the smaller ranch house that he and Adam had built together. It had ample space for the two of them, was well appointed and beautifully kept by their industrious daughter in law Maeve, in spite of three children, soon to be four. From that standpoint, it had made sense. And Adam could have lived anywhere as long as Moira was there.

In forty-three years of marriage, he hadn’t made a decision without consulting her first. He’d trusted her advice and depended on it. She was his touchstone. Now she was the ache in his chest, a gaping, ragged hole where part of his heart used to be. Her absence permeated a house filled with people, haunting empty spaces that only he could see – the chair in the corner where she did her needlework, the vacant seat at the kitchen table, the cold side of the bed they had shared.

He still found it hard to comprehend she was really gone, or how he could go on without her.

Moira. I don’t think I can do this.

Yes, you can. And you will.

How?

Be still, Adam. What does your heart tell you?

That I miss you so much I can barely breathe sometimes.

Other than that.

It’s hard to hear anything else.

I know, but give it time.  Remember, you have a brother who loves you deeply. Did it ever occur to you that he might need you as much as you need him?

He expelled a deep sigh, falling at last into slumber.

I love you, Moira. 

 

1915

“Well, here’s some news.” Joe held a letter in his hand. “It’s from Josh. He’s got twin boys now; that makes four for the Cartwrights down under.”

Adam smiled. “Hoss would have loved that, wouldn’t he?”

“He sure would have.”

“Here’s one from Jordy. He’s been promoted to Captain. He thinks it’s only a matter of time until we’re drawn into the war in Europe.”

Joe grimaced “Lord, I hope not.”

“Oh, he says Drew and Amy are expecting again. That makes seven.”

“That boy’s a chip off the old block, isn’t he? Finally caught up with his old man.”

Adam smirked. “Not that it’s a race, but Benj seems to be doing a pretty good job keeping up with his cousins.”

“After a late start, yeah, I’d say so. It’s just a shame they’re so far away.” Benj and Josie had moved to Denver several years ago and rarely made it back to Nevada, though Joe and Annabelle had visited them last year when their fourth child was born. After three boys, they finally had a girl, much to their delight. Benj’s most recent letter announced the impending arrival of baby number five. Sarah and her husband were raising their three daughters in San Francisco.

Joe shifted his weight in the rocking chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I hear Jarrod’s planning a grand swing with TJ next month. What do you think about that?”

“He’s a little younger than other boys were, but he’s been champing at the bit for the past year, and I don’t think his Pa can put him off any longer.” Adam chuckled. “He reminds me of another ten year old I used to know, thinking he’s as big as his brothers.”

TJ, born Timothy Joseph Cartwright, was his great uncle’s namesake. “We figured we must be kindred spirits, which is why we’re such good pals.”

“Like father, like son, right?”

Joe smiled. “Right.” Jarrod had also been his pal at that age, and time had only strengthened their bond. They were more than nephew and uncle; in spite of the thirty years separating them they were true friends who loved and respected one another, men who shared not only a family name and heritage but also ideals and principles, especially when it came to the land. Adam knew that, of course.

The “grand swing” around the Ponderosa originated in Joe’s childhood, and each subsequent generation had their own version, depending on the participants. The most recent one had been four years ago, after Moira died. Jarrod had taken his two oldest sons and three nephews, ages 12-15, and Joe had stood in for Adam. This year might be the last, with TJ and Dan’s son Morgan, also ten. There were others who hadn’t made the swing, but they were either too young, lived too far away, or weren’t interested.

“Would you be up to going this year, for auld lang syne?”

The idea seemed to amuse Adam. “One last hurrah?”

“Hey, it’s easier than herding cattle. Besides, it would be three on two, so the odds would be in our favor.”

They both knew the answer, though Joe, bless him, liked to keep up the pretense. At eighty-five, Adam could count on one hand the number of times he’d been on a horse in the past few years. Most of his days were spent as now, dozing on the porch, sifting through memories. Marking time.

“You and Jarrod can handle it. I think I’d rather stay home and let Annabelle beat me in cribbage every night.”

“Well, suit yourself.” Joe fell silent for a moment. “Are you ever gonna tell her?”

“Oh, she already knows. To tell you the truth, she’s gotten so good I’d be worried to play it straight for fear she’ll beat me on her own, and that would really hurt what’ s left of my pride.” Adam’s laugh was chased by a plaguing cough. He cleared his throat. “That wife of yours is a peach, you know that?”

Joe smiled. “We both got lucky, didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did.”

The lowering sun leached ribbons of fire through the dusky clouds, brush strokes of crimson, vermilion and gold on a canvas of purple sky.

“Look at that sunset.” Joe’s murmur was tinged with wonder. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“Once, a long time ago.” Adam closed his eyes.

Remember, Moira?

Of course I remember. How could I ever forget?

It was the beginning of everything, from Adaline to the love story that became their life together.

It was a wonderful life, wasn’t it?

Yes, my love. It most certainly was.

Sweetheart, I’ve missed you so much…

 

Annabelle stepped onto the porch. “Oh, what a glorious sunset.”

Joe looked up and smiled. “You almost missed it.”

“Supper’s on the table, whenever you gentlemen are ready. Better give your brother a nudge; he’s nodded off again.”

“Right.” It was a pattern of late. Adam was sleeping more and more. Dan said it was to be expected. Joe patted his shoulder. “Hey, rise and shine. Time to eat.”

At no response, he knelt beside him. Adam’s glasses were on the floor; Joe picked them up and squeezed his hand. “Adam?” Touching his brother’s face, he repeated his name.

Annabelle hovered anxiously next to him. “Oh, Joe…is he…?” A sob caught in her throat when he nodded.

The emotions fueling Joe’s tears were mixed. Adam had persevered, because that’s what he had always done, no matter if life knocked him flat. But he had been so lonely even among people who loved him. Joe had thought that bringing him home to the Ponderosa would make a difference, that it might somehow bring the old Adam back. He’d been wrong. This was not home. But Adam had indulged him, as he’d done so many times in their lives. He’d stayed for his little brother.

Joe rested his head on Adam’s knee and wept; for sorrow, for love. For gratitude.

“Bless you, big brother. You’re home now.”

 

“As I wake from a dream in the gold of day,

through the air there’s a calling from far away.

There’s a voice I can hear that will lead me home.”

— Stephen Paulus, The Road Home

 

The End