Esther Chilton

This week I’m delighted to feature a writer who often takes up my story challenges. Please give a warm welcome to Ann Edall-Robson.  If you’d like to be included in my guest writer slot, please get in touch: estherchilton@gmail.com. Poems can be up to 60 lines and prose 2000 words. If you’d like to add a short bio and photo, then great.

I’ll now let Ann take over:

From where I am from guides me on the journey to where I go ~ Ann Edall-Robson.

Raised in ranch country of British Columbia, the rural lifestyle runs deep in Ann Edall-Robson. Her passion for keeping the fast-disappearing western heritage and rural lifestyle alive is evident in all her creative pursuits.

I cannot say enough about how prompt writing has played an important part in my writing career. It is an activity that not only gives you a break from larger projects, but makes you think outside your creative comfort zone.

Prompt writing can open doors to bigger things, as did my submission to a prompt when I wrote Home, a 99 word story (no more, no less). Both Home and Crimson Sunset went on to be published in an Anthology.

Home – A 99 Word Story (Prompt-Shift in Perspective)

Crimson reds, smatterings of yellow, fading into the blackening sky. Standing in the open door of the log house he watched the sun set over the foothills.

It had not been many years since he’d brought her here as his wife. Hoping she would love the rolling hills and the house he had built for her. She never said it, but he knew she was unhappy.

He would stay on. This had always been his home and in his heart it would always be hers, too.

As he turned to go in, he heard her voice call his name.

Crimson Sunset – ‘Home’ Expanded into a Story.

“You will go to college!”

His dad had been adamant that he get an education after high school and Scott had fought the idea from the get-go. He couldn’t see the need for more smarts when he was going to take over the ranch from his dad. He had lived there all his life. All he needed to know surrounded him.

“Take business classes,” his dad had insisted. “They will do you the most good around here. You already know how to ranch, now you need to know how to handle the business side of this place.”

Again, Scott had argued with his dad. He wasn’t interested in crunching numbers. He had his own idea of the kind of courses he thought would be a better fit with the ranch. He was unhappy when he thought about being away from the ranch because it was his comfort zone. He thought if he could take classes he liked, being away from the ranch for four years of college might not be as bad.

Scott made an appointment with the guidance councillor at school. If he could persuade her to his way of thinking, maybe his dad would come around.

When he left her office, he was certain his dad had got to her first. It looked like his future was going to be in business. She told him there were courses in business designed for the agricultural community. She suggested he look into those.

Scott remembered the arguments with his dad. The man he admired and looked up to for guidance had won. He swore to his dad that he would be back at Christmas break and home for the summer. For the first three years he was able to keep his promise.

He was anxious about finishing his last year of school. Several of his classes required he spend time out of the classroom, and Scott disliked the practicum part of his schooling. Everything they were trying to teach him, he had known for as long as he could remember.

He argued constantly with the instructors regarding ranch know-how. Most of them had never set foot on a ranch, let alone got horse manure on their boots. There were a few who had taken him aside and told him to keep quiet about his knowledge. One had offered to give him an A+ and pass the course if he didn’t show up again.

During his final semester, Scott experienced two events that would change his life.

The invitation to meet with the Board of Directors of the college had not come as a surprise to Scott. The rumour mill was rampant with conjecture regarding letters sent to the Dean’’s office about his conduct in the practicum classes. His future with the school did not look good. What concerned him most was that he had not been summoned to the Dean’s office first.

Scott arrived at the appointed time and was ushered into the board room. He was expecting some form of word configuration that came from the President’s mouth.

“Young man, you have proven to be a thorn in the side of some of our teaching staff. It is obvious that your background knowledge lets you to think you can usurp their authority.”

Scott didn’t like what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to argue his point of view but the man raised his hand.

“You’ll get your chance.”

Scott had a pit in his stomach. Whatever was coming next from this man at the front of the room, Scott was certain would be disastrous.

“As I said, your actions are not appreciated. But you do have an exceptional ability to convey the curriculum to your classmates. And you do it in a way that allows them to understand what is being taught.”

Scott felt the change in the tone of the meeting.

“Where the hell is this going?” he mumbled.

“This meeting is not to reprimand you or dismiss you from the school. Although both are warranted. It’s to give you something to think about over the next few months.”

From the back of the room, a young lady moved forward towards Scott. She handed him an envelope and returned to her seat where she had been taking the notes of the meeting.

The President lifted a sheet of paper and started to read.

Scott couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

The man ended by saying, “What we are offering you is unheard of. A teaching position with the college, at your age, unprecedented. The formal offer is in the envelope. We will meet again in two weeks to answer any questions you might have. We would appreciate your decision before the end of the semester.”

With that, the other members of the board rose and they all left the room. The young lady at the back of the room came over to Scott.

“Congratulations,” she said, holding out her hand in an offer to shake his. “That is some coup d’état you pulled off.”

Scott was in shock. The thoughts racing through his mind made him oblivious of the woman standing before him.

“Hello! Earth to man who just got a job at the college,” she said with a laugh.

He realized someone was speaking to him and focused on where the sound was coming from. “Sorry,” he said acknowledging the young woman. “Can you believe that? They want me to teach and I’m not even finished with my degree.”

“You are one lucky fellow. People go for years wishing for what you were offered.”

The two young people left the board room together. Stopping at her desk when they reached the reception area, Loren watched Scott continue towards the stairs. She smiled to herself and thought, he’s in shock.

“What do you mean you’re going to turn it down?” came a voice of reason from the other end of the telephone line. “This is the best thing that could have happened to you.”

“No, Dad, I need to come home. My job is there. It’s what we agreed on four years ago.”

“Well, I don’t think it is. You can carry on doing what you’ve been doing since you left for college. Come home at Christmas and be here to help during the summer when school’s out. When the time’s right, you can come home to stay.”

There was a decisiveness in his dad’s voice that said the subject was now closed.

Scott’s teaching position started in the fall. The actual job with the college started immediately. His first task — rewrite class outlines. Bring the course curriculum up to a modern and realistic way to teach about ranching and agriculture.

He had added his own codicils to the contract that the Board had agreed upon. It would be a five-year contract with the option to review each year. Leaving the contract early would not affect his severance or benefits. He had negotiated for extra time during reading week to help with calving. His classes would not start until the middle of September to allow him to help with shipping cattle in the fall. At any time should his dad need him to be full time at the ranch, he was gone.

The next years of Scott’s life were full. His teaching methods were a hit and his classes had wait lists.

An introduction to the young lady he had met the day he received his job offer resulted in a courtship. The second summer after they met, Scott and Loren were married. 

His dad had been right.

Scott spent the summer at the ranch and his wife would join him at the start of haying season. Loren had learned to drive the tractor and make bread. Both had earned the city girl brownie points from her father-in-law.

The summer they got married, he had shown Loren the spot where he wanted to build their home. They had stood on the hill, making plans and watching the sun go down. Scott told her that her hair reminded him of the crimson and gold sunset they were watching. She had laughed at him. Calling him an old-fashioned, hopeless romantic.  

It had taken three years for the two men to finish building the log house. It was Scott and Loren’s home when they were at the ranch during the summer months. With the completion of his contract, it would soon become their permanent residence.

Loren had known, before they married, the ranch would be their home. She had feelings of trepidation over her role as a full-time ranch wife. At first she had been reluctant about the move. At times seeming almost remorseful and unhappy.

The young couple made the decision to sell their house near the college. They accepted an offer from one of the faculty. They had discussed the logistics of the situation. Seeing to the legalities and finalizing the sale had fallen on Loren’s shoulders. She would stay with friends until the sale was complete.

It was stormy the day the paperwork finalized. Loren decided she would leave for the ranch and her new home. She wanted to surprise Scott, she said. Their friends had tried to convince her to leave in the morning after the storm had blown over. 

“Don’t worry. I could drive that road with my eyes closed,” she quipped.

Crimson reds, smatterings of yellow, fading into the blackening sky. Standing in the open door of the log house, he watched the sun set over the foothills.

It had not been many years since he’d brought her here as his wife. Hoping she would love the rolling hills and the house he had built for her. She never said it, but he knew she was unhappy.

He would stay on. This had always been his home and in his heart it would always be hers, too.

As he turned to go in, he heard her voice call his name.

He spun around to nothing but the sound of the evening breeze. The gentle wind that reminded him of his wife’s fingers trailing across his cheeks.

He sucked in his breath. The sunset and breeze were heartless. Teasing and taunting him with memories until the blackness of the night took over, flaunting the reality that Loren would not be coming home. Ever.

***

If you enjoyed Ann’s stories, here is a link to her books: https://www.annedallrobson.com/order-books.html