The pick-up rattled down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust in it's wake. Kirk glanced in his rear view mirror and a half smile played on his lips. "You don't see that in New York City..." he said out loud to no one in particular, mostly because he was alone in the car. Boxes took up space beside him and in the back of the truck. Boxes filled with the clutter and memories of a life he inwardly mourned and outwardly bid good riddance to. Finally, he pulled up to a ramshackle, two-story farmhouse, shaking his head. Kirk Allen was 38 years old and he was back where he started.
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Rose Horner had lived in Wyatt all of her 47 years. She'd been a waitress at Wy-Not Coffee for the majority of those, and she was, by her own proud admission, the town gossip. If it happened in Wyatt, or within 50 miles of the town center, Rose would have all the details. Today was no exception.
"I'll tell you, I saw him drive by around 7 o'clock this morning. He was driving a blue F-150 and wearing a gray sweatshirt. I know, because I was right over there by the window pouring coffee for Jake and I looked up and I saw him. Kirk Allen, home with his tail between his legs, alright."
The regulars-Jake Haskell, the town sheriff, Mike and Faye Collins, who came for the company, Abel Smith from the garage across the street, and Heather, Rose's daughter and fellow waitress, exchanged glances. The rumors of Kirk's return had been omnipresent in Wyatt for months, ever since the Grammy fiasco. But they had been just that- rumors.
Heather perked up, "Well, I intend to check that out for myself, Mama. And I'll be sure to let you all know what I find." No one doubted this, since Heather made it her business to check out every man in town.
Abel added his two cents after a lengthy glance at the traffic out on Main. "What about you, Jake? Didja see him? Didja hear anything about Kirk coming home?"
"No, I was too busy reading the paper. Besides, if Kirk is back, that's his business, not any of ours." Jake answered, always displaying a level-head.
The bell over the door chimed, signaling a customer. As was customary, everyone glanced up to determine if the conversation could continue or if it was best to quietly return to coffee and pie, holding their tongues.
Priscilla Bishop stood at the door and surveyed the crowd. "Who's business?" she asked, never one to miss a scoop.
"Oh, hey, Priscilla," Abel grinned, patting the table across from him, "have a seat."
Having been at the Wyatt Post for all of her adult life, Priscilla knew when she was being blown off, when she wasn't being told the whole story. She slid into the booth with Abel and saw everyone watching her. "Ok, what is it? What the hell are all these looks for? What are y'all not telling me?"
Rose paused just long enough to give the illusion that she was even considering not opening her mouth, then repeated, "I saw Kirk this morning. He's back."
Priscilla averted her eyes skyward in a silent prayer of thanks that she was already sitting down. Then with a deep breath that she hoped no one noticed, she replied, "Well, good for him. Nice that his grandmother left him that old place when she passed...nice that he has somewhere to go now that...now that..."
'Now that' what, she wasn't sure, but Abel wasted no time in filling in her blank. "Now that he's a washed up old has-been."
Faye, older and wiser than the lot of them, finally spoke up. "Hush now, Abel. Kirk went and made something of himself and now he's back. If you come from Wyatt, you can always come back, you'll always be family. Just let him alone."
Having taken Faye's words to heart, at least momentarily, the buzz died down. Priscilla had lost her appetite at the mention of Kirk's name, but she picked at it, lest it seem as though something were wrong.
"You alright, Cilla?" Abel asked. She noticed Heather, refilling coffee at the next table, lean over to be sure to overhear her response.
"Fine Abel, just fine. But I've got to hurry up here and get back to the office. There were a few layouts that I was finishing up on, I was just taking a little break..."
Abel nodded and waved as Priscilla laid a ten on the table and hurried out with a murmured good-bye. Her pointed stride took her back to the Post's office in half the usual time. She'd really meant to finish up those layouts, but instead she found herself jiggling the doorknob to be sure it was locked and fumbling through her purse for her car keys. Against her better judgement, she ended up on the road leading to the outer edges of Wyatt.
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