13
Theo
* * *
The next morning, dew sparkled on the grasses in the meadow as I pulled out of our driveway and onto the dirt road toward town. Dr. Neal had called the house early this morning, asking me to check in on Mrs. Cassidy before heading into the office.
The Cassidys’ farm looked pretty in the rays of morning sunlight that filtered through the trees. Nora, already hard at work, came out of the barn to greet me.
“I hope you’re not too tired this morning,” I said. “We both stayed up too late for working folks.”
She lifted the leather hat from her head and wiped perspiration from her brow. “Our rooster made sure I was up with the sun.”
“How’s your mother this morning?”
“About the same. No worse, no better.” Nora squinted up at the sun before putting her hat back over her cropped blond hair. “She’s inside, reading her letters again.” She frowned as she tugged on the loops over her overalls. “Do you ever wonder if it’s worth it—loving someone so much only to lose them?”
“She has her memories,” I said, lamely. What was the answer, anyway? Better to have loved with all your heart or better to stay cold and avoid pain?
“And those letters,” Nora said.
I reached into the back of my car to pull out a small wooden box holding several jars of Lizzie’s canned pickles and strawberry jam. “My mother sent these.”
“Lizzie’s jam?”
“And pickles,” I said.
“Mother will be pleased,” Nora said. “She loves jam. Or normally she does, anyway.” She sighed as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her overalls. “I’d sure like a day where we don’t need the charity of you good people.”
“People want to help.”
“Yes, but I’d rather be the helper than the one in need.”
I looked around the well-kept farm and healthy cows in their pasture. “You’re doing remarkably well, running all this by yourself.”
“I appreciate your kind words.” She rocked back on her heels, seeming to think about what she wanted to say next.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Isak took me home last night. We had a nice talk.”
“Why does that sound like a bad thing?”
She smiled briefly before the mournful look returned to her eyes. “He mentioned his feelings for me. I thought I’d imagined them, but they were there. But he doesn’t know how we could ever marry if I’m tied to this farm. He has no interest in farming. I mean, why would he? His family are shopkeepers, not cattle ranchers. I can feel myself getting old out here, Theo. I felt like the oldest person in our group last night when I’m actually the youngest.”
“I can see why.”
“I can’t stop thinking about running away from all this.” She gestured toward the barn.
“I thought you loved farming?”
“Not without my family. Then, Mom got so sick, leaving absolutely everything to me. I don’t know. I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I always had my sisters. The three of us…were a unit. Then they had to go off and get married.” She said the last part with a hint of humor that did not match her sad expression. “I feel like they abandoned me—left me with the burden of the farm and our mother while they went off to the life they wanted. A life I want. Husband and children. Not this land that’s making me into a cranky old lady, tough as chewy meat.”
“Would you want to sell it?” I asked.
She looked down at the dirt, then kicked it with her boot. “What would my poor father think? He sacrificed everything to buy this land.”
“Your father’s dream doesn’t have to be your burden.” I glanced down the driveway. “I could talk to my father. He might have ideas of a buyer. But where would you go?”