When Past shows up in your Present

Some days you think you've got your life figured out. You wake up at five, check the weather, grab coffee strong enough to wake the dead, and head out to do what needs doing. The cattle need water, the fields need seeding, and there's always something on equipment that needs fixing.

Simple. Predictable. The way I like it.

Then someone from your past drives back into town, and suddenly nothing feels simple anymore.

I'm not one for talking about feelings—never saw much point in it. But when you're seeding a hundred and fifty acres, you've got plenty of time to think. Maybe too much time.

Anara Kittering is back in Kittering Creek. After four years, she's taking over her aunt's bakery like nothing happened. Like she didn't leave town right after the accident that killed my dad. Like she didn't marry the drunk driver who destroyed half my family.

I told myself I was over it. Over her. Except seeing her again... well, it's not as simple as I thought it would be.

My sister Nancy keeps reminding me what Anara represents. Every time that woman's name comes up, Nancy gets this look—part anger, part pain—and I can see her arm stiffen where it never quite healed right. Nancy was in the truck with Dad when Wes Briggs plowed into them.

So when Nancy grumbles about Anara being back, about how "nothing in her life has changed" while ours got turned upside down, I get it. Nancy's been through hell, working a job that's too hard on her damaged arm, dealing with the fallout of that night every single day.

But then there's Paige. My little sister decided she wanted to do her work experience at the bakery. Of all the places in town, she picked that one. I tried to talk her out of it, but once Paige sets her mind on something, she's like a dog with a bone.

The thing is, Paige likes working there. She likes Gemma, she's even warming up to Grumpy Gary, and despite everything, she seems to be getting along with Anara now. When I see my sister happy about something—really happy—I can't bring myself to take that away from her.

Which leaves me in the middle of a mess I never asked for.

Part of me wants to tell Anara to find another town to restart her life in. I've got a ranch to run, a sister to raise, and another sister who needs more support than she'll admit. I don't have time for whatever feelings might still be floating around from a relationship that ended years ago.

But the other part of me remembers what it was like when we were together. How she used to laugh at my terrible jokes. How she'd help me work on Dad's old tractor, getting grease under her fingernails and not caring. How she looked at me like I was worth something, even when my family had nothing and hers had everything.

I've been praying about it, asking God to help me let go of whatever anger I'm still carrying. Asking for wisdom about Paige and her job. Asking for patience with Nancy's bitterness. Mostly asking for the strength to just keep doing what needs doing without getting sidetracked by things I can't control.

Yesterday, Paige asked me if I ever miss her—Anara, I mean. I told her the past is the past and we all have to move on. But driving back from town last night, I caught myself wondering what might have happened if things had been different.

Pointless wondering, really. You can't change what's already done.

But I can control this: I can support my sister Paige, even if her job choice isn't my favorite. I can keep working the land that's been in our family for generations. I can be there for Nancy when she needs me.

And maybe I can find a way to put the past to rest once and for all.

Some things are worth fighting for. Some things are worth letting go. The trick is knowing which is which.

Morgan Properzi runs a cattle and grain operation outside Kittering Creek. When he's not fixing equipment or chasing cows, he can usually be found trying to keep his teenage sister out of trouble.

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