Such as it was.
Jakob huffed but offered no further resistance. Jim went over the pages of the sale agreement one by one, pointing out each place that required a signature or initials. He hurried them along as if afraid one of them might change their mind. And Gerrit considered it. He really did. Who was he without the farm? What would he do? But his back reminded him of the relentlessness of the work. The sunshine outside reminded him of the endless hours of labor ahead during the summer season. And his heart screamed that he had no choice.
It was time.
When the last piece of paper had been reviewed and signed, Jim shook hands with each of them in turn and dismissed them with a sigh of relief. Gerrit was the last to leave. In the hall, Nicholsen waited to take his place with an eager expression, and a strange feeling pressed against Gerrit’s heart. Take good care of her, he wanted to say. She’ll need all you have to give. Instead, he nodded, just once.
Jakob was long gone as Gerrit walked Luisa to her car. He held the door open for her and searched for the right words, knowing there weren’t any. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Wanting to enjoy your life for once?” She patted him on the cheek. “Luke would not blame you.”
He nodded, but inside he wasn’t so sure. After all, who else was there to blame? Jakob, of course. But Jakob wasn’t the one who decided to sell to Nicholsen.
He hung his head. “I wish it had been more.”
She waved his words away. “A hundred and thirteen thousand dollars is plenty for an old lady like me. And I’ve got that money from my father. Don’t worry.”
“You’re not old.”
“Hmmph. Tell that to the bunions on my feet.”
He lumbered to his truck, the numbers taunting him. One hundred and thirteen thousand each, all that was left for the three of them after paying off the farm’s debts. All that was left of a lifetime spent believing his sacrifices would be worth it someday.
He heaved himself into the Dodge with an unshakable weariness. If he was careful, he could make the money last. Over the last ten years, he’d sunk his and Hannie’s entire savings into keeping the farm afloat—a decision that haunted him now. But their mortgage would be paid off in a year, and Hannie brought in a little money from her shop. So long as nothing terrible happened, they would be okay. Right?
So long as nothing terrible happened.
“I’m tired, Luke.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “You don’t know what it’s been like all these years without you.”
With a heavy sigh he turned the key in the ignition. Forty years of hard time could do something to a man. Could whittle his spirit down to a splinter of what it was and change him so that even his stride reflected the rigid structure of boundaries. Limits. Gerrit knew.
The Dodge hacked up some phlegm, pounded its chest, then roared to life. Gerrit gripped the wheel tightly. He was going home a free man, but he felt like a prisoner.
It took more to be free of a place than just driving away.
CHAPTER
TWO
It was six o’clock before Gerrit mustered the courage to point the Dodge toward his house on the hill. What a strange thing, to turn left at the junction. When was the last time he’d turned left while there was still daylight instead of driving on and getting back to work?
There was always work.
He parked the Dodge in the gravel next to the old pony barn and approached the house like a stranger. How long had Hannie been home? He quickened his step.
When he opened the door, his wife stood before him, her hair held on top of her head by some sort of clip. Her cobalt eyes downcast. She had one hand outstretched to turn the knob, the other gripping the handle of a faded blue suitcase with a white stripe around the middle. For a moment, her face registered surprise, and then she lowered her hand.
“You came home.”
Gerrit blinked. “Of course I came home. Where else would I go?”
Her corgi, Daisy, peeked out from behind her legs. Hannie shifted. “The farm.”
“Can’t go there no more.” He stared at Daisy, then at the suitcase. “I signed the papers.”
Hannie’s shoulders relaxed. Her grip on the handle loosened.
He jerked his chin at the offensive blue case. “Going somewhere?”
She chewed her top lip. “I didn’t think you’d go through with it. When I got home from the shop and you weren’t here, I thought you’d changed your mind. And I couldn’t face another day, another month, another year . . .”
As her voice trailed off, he noticed her shoes. They were pink like rose petals. His muddy brown boots looked like filthy monsters beside them, ready to trample them into the ground.
He took a step back. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t want to keep competing with the farm for your attention.” She looked down. “I couldn’t.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “How come you never said anything before? About the farm?”
“You make your own decisions, and you know it. You’re as stubborn as a goat on top of a junk pile. Quitting had to be your choice.”
Quitting? No, he hadn’t quit. He’d been forced out by his traitorous, decrepit body. By unpredictable milk prices and unreliable laborers and Jakob’s abandonment. But he’d never heard Hannie complain. At least not in so many words.
“Hannie, I—”
“Ever since the kids moved out, I’ve been living here alone.” She raised her voice and jabbed her finger in the air for emphasis. “Just me and Daisy. You come and go at all hours. You’re never here for dinner. And you’re always angry.”
He frowned. Yes, he’d been angry at times. A lot of times. That was Jakob’s fault, but after what happened today, he would never have to speak to
