“The bank was on me,” Randy said. “That’s true. Kyle Hoffman wanted the books cleaned up before he’d renew the line. But that’s not the real reason.”
He stared down at his plate.
“The reason is, I wanted Luke to have a place to come home to,” he said. “I wanted it settled before planting so he’d stay. And I told myself the check was the kind thing. That you’d be glad to be done with it. That a widow wouldn’t want to be farming with her husband’s brothers anyway.”
He looked down at his big hands on the tablecloth.
“That was a lie I told myself,” he said. “Because it made it easier. It was the wrong day. And it was the wrong way. Lori told me so, and I didn’t listen.”
He stopped. Lori put her hand on his arm.
“Then I watched you lift those bags,” Randy said. “That first day. And I stood out there at the edge of the field with Luke, and I thought, that’s Jeff’s wife. Out there by herself. And I’m standing here watching. And I couldn’t think of one single thing to say for myself.”
I sat there with my hands folded in my lap.
“I’m sorry,” Randy said. “If you want the house back, it’s yours. Luke and I already talked about it. He’ll find something in town.”
Across the table, Luke nodded.
I looked at them. The whole table full of them.
These were the people I’d spent my whole grown-up life with. These were the people who came to the hospital the night Abby was born. Who sat with me in the emergency room the night Jeff broke his wrist falling off a grain bin. Who stood around his grave with me seven weeks earlier.
“I don’t want the house back,” I said.
Randy looked up.
“I have a house,” I said. “It’s across the road, and it’s got eighty acres with it. And I’m going to finish planting it tomorrow.”
Randy nodded slowly.
“But I’d like to come to Sunday dinner,” I said. “And I’d like Abby to keep riding with Luke, if he’ll have her. And when that eighty needs harvesting this fall, I’d like to rent your combine. At a fair rate. Instead of hiring somebody from Superior.”
“You’ll use it free,” Randy said.
“I’ll pay what it’s worth,” I said. “Jeff would have. You know he would have.”
And for the first time since March, Randy laughed.
“He would have argued with me about the rate for an hour,” he said. “Then he’d have paid it and bought me supper.”
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
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