– Well, look who decided to show up! – Exclaimed David Peterson. – You can just turn right back around! – Dad, what’s gotten into you?

“Look whos finally shown up!” bellowed Thomas Whitaker. “You can turn right back around!”

“Father, whats gotten into you?” exclaimed Andrew, bewildered. “Twenty years gone, and this is the welcome I get?”

“If I had my way, Id greet you with a strap!” Thomas grabbed his belt. “No matterwell set things straight now!”

“Easy now!” Andrew stepped back. “Im not a childIll answer you in kind!”

“There it isyour true nature!” Thomas spat, still gripping the belt. “Bullying the weak, fleeing the strong, deceiving the good, serving the wicked!”

“Whats really got you so riled? What am I even accused of?” Andrew shrugged. “If there was any fault in me, twenty years shouldve washed it clean!”

“Easy for you to say when the fault was yours! Of course youd want forgiveness! But Ill grant you none!”

“What fault? I spent years wondering why my own parents branded me a traitor and barred me from home! Not a single reply to my lettersnot one!”

“And you claim not to know why?” Thomas sneered.

Andrews confusion was plain, but before he could press further, his mother, Margaret, stormed in.

“God help me!” she cried. “The devils brought him back! Thomas, drive him out! Shame on our grey hairs!”

Andrew froze, stunned. Margaret added, “If I had the strength, Id thrash you myself! But I see the Lords marked the rogue already!” She pointed to the bruise under his eye.

“Someone landed a fine blow!” Thomas chuckled. “Id shake their hand!”

“Mother, Fatherhave you lost your senses? Twenty years gone, and this is my welcome?”

“Who gave you that?” Thomas demanded. “Well chase you off soon enough, but well thank them properly later!”

“How should I know? I took the coach home! Old Peter recognized me, made a fussthen at the stop, some lad punched me, spat, and ran!”

“A true hero!” Thomas smirked. “Well ask Peter who did it.”

“Father, is that all you care about? That Ive been gone twenty years means nothing?”

“What use are you here, traitor?” Margaret snapped.

“Traitor? How?”

“Because you are!” a third voice shouted from the kitchen.

“Whos this brave soul?” Andrew turned as a young man stepped into view.

“Thats the one who gave me this!” Andrew pointed at the bruise.

“Well done, grandson!” Thomas grinned. “Seized the moment!”

“Grandson? What nonsense!”

“This is your son!” Margaret shielded the lad. “Abandoned!”

“Ive no son!” Andrew recoiled. “Never did! Id know if I had!”

“Then remember why you fled this village twenty years ago!” Thomass voice cracked with fury.

***

Andrew never called it fleeing. His departure was plannedjust earlier than intended. Several reasons spurred him.

The journey was long, nearly across the country, to study. He left early to settle in and find work before term began. His stipend wouldnt cover much, and asking his parents for help shamed himthey could only send food, not money. How would they even post it?

But there was another reason. Unrest had stirred in the village. Had he lingered, he might never have left. Suitors swarmed himso he left to avoid them.

When asked why, hed say, “Ill bind my life to the sea! Leaving a wife ashore while I sail? A poor bargain. Ill grow no cuckolds horns!”

The sea had found him by chance. After school, he served in the navy, discovering land wasnt for him. Returning home, he carried papers to train as a ships engineer.

Before studies began, he reveledas young men do after service, with only unconsciousness as their limit. He watched others return proud, only to be chained by wives, children, and toil. He vowed not to share that fate, staying wary even in merriment, earning renown among village maids.

Persistent advances wore him down. He left a month early, reached his destination, found work at the docks, lodged in a dorm, and enrolled. He wrote home: all was well.

Their reply was a scathing letter branding him traitor, coward, worsethen disowning him. “Your place is the seas abyss!”

Baffled, he wrote again, begging explanation. Silence. Duty kept him from returning.

When he graduated, one last letter came: “Drown, traitor! Coward!” Signed not “Mother and Father,” but “Thomas and Margaret Whitaker.”

At forty, he resolved to unravel the mystery. The reunion was neither gentle nor free of shocks.

“Fled? I left to avoid being wed off! You bartered me with half the village!”

“We wanted you matched well! But you got poor Natasha with child and ran!” Margaret hissed.

“Natasha? The orphan?”

“She came after you left, carrying your child! We took her inour grandsons mother!”

“When did she come? I wrote a month after leavingyou replied I wasnt to return!”

“She said shed written you! You told her to rid herself of the child and leave!” Thomas said.

“Call her here. Lets settle this.”

“Shes been dead ten years,” said Stan, the young man. “Grandmother and Grandfather raised me.”

“Charming. And my son greeted me with a fist.”

“You deserved worse! Abandoning my mother!” Stan shouted.

“So youre all righteous, and Im the villain?”

“Coward, too!” Thomas added. “Ran from duty, ruined the girl!”

“Did you see her letter?” Andrew asked.

“We believed herunlike you!” Margaret said.

“Then lets test our blood. If hes mine, crucify me.”

The test proved negative. Andrew handed it to his parents.

“Clear now? Natasha knew. She came to you.”

“The tragedy isnt your beliefits that you accepted I was a coward and traitor. Twenty years, and you never questioned. Your forgiveness means nothing now.”

Andrew left. Stan stayed, milking the old couples guilt, insisting the test was wrong, his mother a saint.

A right piece of work, those parents. What say you? Share your thoughts below.