Untitled Prose (Part One)

Untitled Prose

The steering wheel gripped in Jake's hands had begun to finally warm up, which sort of angered him because he was already nearing the farm. He had the windshield wipers turned up as fast as they could go, even though the snow had stopped for a while. Jake stared down the road as he drove, as if he was looking ahead for some kind of blockade.

"It's been almost a year now." He thought to himself as he watched the snow-covered pine trees flash by him. His young, pale face was somber, almost reflective as he continued to stare ahead of the fast-moving vehicle. Finally, the driveway came into view.

The driveway was actually more like a dirt road; his father used it to drive tractors and all sorts of trucks up to the farm, and now Jake himself was driving up the same road in a BMW. As the car drove up the end of the icy road, Jake looked out and surveyed the land, remembering something in the distant past.

"It's huge." He said quietly to himself, as he slid the car into park and then twisted the key out of the ignition. The car lights faded out from shining on the snow-banks, and as the engine died out and the wipers slowed to a hault, the silence of the area was absolute.

Jake got out of the car, and slammed the door shut a bit harder than he probably should have. He glanced down at a paper he held in his hands, one that the executor of his father's will had given to him; he shook his head in a reoccurring bout of disbelief, and then slowly pushed the paper back into his pocket. "So, this is it." He thought to himself. "Not exactly how I remember it." He glanced over at the old farm house a few yards away, which looked almost dilapidated compared to Jake's memory of it.

He made his way over to the house, his shoes leaving a trail of footprints from his car all the way to the front porch. He stood at the bottom of the few greying steps and looked up at the house; none of the windows looked broken at least, and the door wasn't torn off the hinges. That was plus. He took a step up and just as he put his weight onto it, the step suddenly fell in and Jake fell backward with it.

All he could think of was his head busting open on the hard landing of the porch, but thankfully a large bank of snow saved him.

Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he lay spreadeagle in the snow; this wasn't as bad as he imagined, he thought, it was worse.

All of this had started around a year ago when Jake's father died, he'd been ill for a while and so his death wasn't a shock at all really. What was a shock, however, was what Jake was left in his father's will; the family farm his father had owned. Jake remembered it from visits to his grandparents when his parents were still together, and even a few times when he had just visited his dad, but he had never in a million years expected to ever own the farm himself.

And now, Jake thought, now he was lying face-up in front of the place; what a wonderful start this was. Jake heard footsteps nearby as the weight of whomever it was crushed the snow under each step, Jake quickly opened his eyes and sat up in the snow bank.

"Making snow angels?" The stranger asked jokingly. Jake quickly pushed himself up out of the snow and brushed off the back of his jeans and coat.

"I, uh, It isn't like...." Jake began to explain, but as the man came closer, Jake also became more aware of the strangers looks, his rather attractive looks actually.

"Don't worry about it." The man said gently as he took his hands out of his pockets. He grinned slightly, and his face creased around his cheeks. "You wouldn't happen to be Jacob, would you?" He asked plainly, looking at Jake's now messy hair and red-cheeks.

"Yeah, sorry." Jake replied as he looked the man in his dark green eyes. "Are you the farm hand that was mentioned?"

"That's me." The man said as he stretched out his hand. "Michael Cooper, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Michael." Jake said he shook Michael's rather warm hand with some slight hesitance.

"Just Mike." He responded as the two ended their handshake and almost simultaneously returned their hands to their pockets. Jake nodded and looked up at the house again, and then back to Mike.

"I guess I'll need to hire some people to fix this up, huh?" Jake said outloud, knowing that he was completely in the dark about such things.

"Well I don't think you have go to all that trouble." Mike said grinning a bit, Jake turned to him and seemed slightly confused.

"Why not? I mean, I can't live in the barn can I?" Jake asked.

"Well I don't know, why don't you ask them?" Mike replied.

"Ask who?" Jake tilted his head and looked at Mike, who was know barring an obvious grin on his face.

"Ask the Leisters, it's their barn. You should probably ask them before you go and sleep in it, or park in their driveway for that matter."

"You mean..." Jake shook his head and muttered a profanity to himself.

Michael laughed outloud and slapped the younger man on the shoulder. "It's alright, you just missed it by one driveway. I saw that car of yours drive in and assumed it was Jon's kid. Looks like I was right." Jake looked up at Mike and audibly sighed, almost against his will. How could he have gotten two farms mixed up, he thought to himself. Apparently, his memory had betrayed him more than he had thought.

"Come on, we can take your car around to the driveway. The Leisters always complain about vandals near the barn, so it's better to move it before they call the cops." Mike said, taking longer to remove his hand from Jake's shoulder than he had intended to. Jake nodded in response and apologized again, although he hadn't yet forgiven himself for making such a stupid mistake.

The road up to his father's farm was long and seemed to stretch on for a while longer than Jake had assumed. When the farmhouse came into view, however, Jake finally knew where he was.

Everything was the same, he thought, just as he remembered it to be. The house was white with stone foundation, and the barn was still as huge has he ever remembered it. From the driveway he could even see some cows poking their heads out of the barn, which actually sort of made him nervous, because it solidified the reality of his situation. Jake looked over at Mike, whose large coat did little to hide the fact that he had a nicely built body; likewise, Jake thought, Mike's jeans did little to hide anything else he had beneath it.

"How do you like it?" Mike said, causing Jake to jerk the steering wheel slightly and completely avoid looking at the other man.

"I..." Jake paused until he reminded himself that Mike had to be talking about the farmhouse. He slowly pulled the car up near the building and slid the gear into park again. "It's certainly a lot better than what I thought." He replied; Mike chuckled.

"Since Jon passed away last year, I hired a few hands to help me fix up the place a little bit." Mike said as he swung open the car door and stepped out onto the snow-covered road. He took a breath of cold air and sighed. "Of course, it didn't need much work, Jon was a real freak about keeping this place up."

"Yeah, I know." Jake said as he looked up at the large white house, which had a steady stream of grey smoke billowing out the large brick chimney. He was beginning to reflect on things when he turned to Mike. "So, did you work for him long?" He asked.

"Me?" Mike shook his head. "Jon hired me just a few months before...but he and my dad were pretty close. They went to some of the Elk meetings together. I don't really know why he put me up to looking after the place, actually."

"That makes two of us..." Jake said to himself under his breath.

"You should come inside, I actually just finished supper, but you're welcome to have some if you want." Mike said as he began walking toward the house.

"Thanks, I'll be there in a minute." Jake replied. Mike nodded as if he knew what Jake wanted to do, and then he walked inside the house and the slam of the screen door followed. Jake looked up at the grey-clouded, December sky and sighed; it was the only thing he really had in him to do. So many things had happened, he thought, and he still didn't completely know why he was there. He wanted someone to just explain everything to him, not just about the farm, but even about his dad; in his heart, he wished that he would have gotten to known him better than he did.

Jake stood outside the farmhouse until a small snow flake hit him right on the nose, and melted down his face. He looked away from the sky as more snow followed behind the first flake, and he turned to walk toward his new home; as he went to wipe the trickle of water running down from his face, it was obvious that not all of it was from the snow.