“Margaret, let’s be reasonable. You can’t stay alone on that farm forever. You need help. You need care.”
Catherine’s voice was condescending, as if she were explaining something to a foolish child.
“You know what I need, Catherine? I need you and your daughter to stay away from my family. I need you to stop manipulating my son. And I need you to understand that this farm will be mine until the day I die.”
“You’re making a terrible mistake. Without us, you can’t handle the business. You don’t understand banks or taxes or anything.”
There it was again. The same old song. The poor old woman who doesn’t understand anything. The same woman who had managed this farm for 40 years. Who had raised cattle. Who had negotiated with buyers. Who had paid taxes and managed employees long before Amber even knew how to write her name.
“You know what, Catherine? You’re right about one thing. I did make a terrible mistake. But it wasn’t today. It was 6 months ago when I trusted you.”
I hung up for the second time that day.
This time I trembled a little, not from fear, but from a strange energy that was coursing through my body, as if I had been asleep for years and was finally waking up completely.
Helen was still on the porch, rocking gently and looking at the mountains.
“Everything okay?” she asked without turning to look at me.
“Everything’s perfect.”
That night, I had dinner alone for the first time in months without feeling lonely. I made myself some scrambled eggs with tomatoes and onions from my own garden. The silence of the house didn’t weigh on me. It embraced me.
