Chapter 10
“I'll call an attorney tomorrow.
We'll meet together on Monday,
assuming everyone agrees.”
Dad nodded.
Mom nodded too.
Ranata folded her arms.
“And if I don't agree?”
I looked directly at her.
“You don't have to meet my attorney.
But you don't get to stop us
from protecting our parents.”
She made a bitter sound.
“Our parents.
You haven't needed them in years.”
Something inside me gave way.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
It was more like the final thread
holding an old belief together
had quietly snapped.
“I needed them when I was twenty-three,”
I said.
“I needed someone to celebrate
when I bought my first eighty acres.”
My voice trembled.
“I needed them at twenty-six
when a storm took my greenhouse roof
and I spent three nights rebuilding it.”
Mom stared at me.
“I needed Dad at thirty
when I was trying to understand
a complicated property boundary dispute.”
I looked toward him.
“I called you twice that week.
You told me to ask Ranata for money.”
He flinched.
“I wasn't calling about money.
I wanted your advice.”
His eyes filled.
I continued.
“And I needed my family
when I buried our grandmother.
Not because I couldn't afford the funeral.
Because I missed her.”
Ranata looked down.
“You told everyone
I wasn't contributing enough,” I said.
“I paid the funeral director directly.
I also paid for the headstone.
I didn't announce it.”
Mom slowly turned toward Ranata.
“You said the church covered the stone.”
Ranata didn't respond.
I felt suddenly exhausted.
“You're right about one thing.
I haven't needed you financially.”
I looked around the table.
“But I needed you to know me.
And none of you did.”
Nobody tried to answer.
I picked up my folder.
At the doorway,
Mom finally spoke.
“Fay?”
I stopped.
“Were you ever in trouble?”
I thought about the question.
There had been terrible years.
A failed crop.
A flooded field.
An injury that kept me
off the tractor for six weeks.
Nights when I had sat
at my kitchen table
calculating whether another investment
would ruin everything I'd built.
But I had always had choices.
And I'd made them.
“Sometimes,” I answered.
“Just like everyone else.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“Why didn't you tell us?”
I turned toward her.
“Because whenever I mentioned a difficulty,
you heard proof that Ranata was right.”
She began crying again.
I didn't go back to hug her.