Chapter 5
watching my father's expression collapse.
“I don't understand,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“Ranata said you were behind on everything.”
“I wasn't.”
“She said the bank might take your land.”
“I owned it without a mortgage.”
“She said your equipment was being repossessed.”
“I bought replacement equipment three years ago.”
He looked at Ranata.
“She showed us invoices.”
I felt something cold settle inside me.
“What invoices?”
Mom reached beneath the first stack.
She handed me several photocopied pages.
The headings were ordinary.
Agricultural equipment repair.
Commercial irrigation servicing.
Emergency operating expenses.
But the company names were unfamiliar.
So were the account numbers.
On one page,
someone had printed my farm's address.
On another,
my name appeared above a signature.
I stared at it.
It looked almost like mine.
Almost.
The F curved the wrong way.
The final stroke was too elaborate.
And underneath it
was a date from a winter
when I had been repairing a broken greenhouse
and barely leaving the property.
“I didn't sign this.”
Dad's jaw tightened.
“Are you sure?”
I looked at him.
The question hurt more than I expected.
“Dad.”
He shut his eyes.
“No. You're right.
I'm sorry.”
I laid the paper flat.
“I have the original invoices
for every piece of equipment
I've bought or repaired.
These aren't mine.”
Ranata suddenly spoke.
“They were estimates.”
I turned toward her.
“Then why does this one say paid?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
“And why is my signature on it?”
“I was trying to handle things.”
“Handle what?”
“You don't understand the pressure.”
I pushed the page toward her.
“Then explain it.”
Desmond finally moved away from the sink.
“Ranata, stop.”
She glared at him.
“Stay out of this.”
“I've stayed out of it too long.”
Something passed between them.
A look I recognized
from people who had argued
long before everyone else entered the room.
Dad leaned forward.
“Desmond, what do you know?”
He rubbed both hands across his face.
Then he reached into his jacket.
He removed a folded envelope.
“I found this Thursday.”
Ranata stood abruptly.
“Desmond.”
He ignored her.
“It was addressed to our house.
I thought it was another loan statement.”
He placed the envelope on the table.
Inside was a notice
from a financial institution
I recognized only by name.
An outstanding balance.
A missed payment.
A demand for updated financial information.
The borrower was listed as