“A woman named Agatha Brown. She said she used to baby-sit Lori sometimes.”
“Yes, she did.” Cara pulled out the last frame, which held a picture of Johnny, Cara, and Lori as a toddler. She showed it to Ephraim, and when his eyes met hers, she wished he could see through them and into her mind to understand the concern building inside her.
He took the picture. “Trevor, did anyone ask you about where Cara is living now?”
“Mrs. Brown did. She wanted to hear all about Cara and Lori.”
“She’s the only one?” Ephraim asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“A man from Cara’s days in foster care used to stalk and threaten her. That’s why she left New York with nothing and lived in my barn for a while.”
“I … I’m sorry.” Deep hurt mirrored in Trevor’s face. “But, Cara, honey, it’s one of the largest cities in the world, and I was in your building for only a couple of hours. No one but the manager and Mrs. Brown knew I was there. Besides, surely that fella has lost track of you by now and probably lost interest.”
Trevor made sense, and her fear retreated. “You’re right.” She looked at the back of a frame. “I need a screwdriver or butter knife.”
Trevor pulled a knife out of his pocket and popped open the blade before she could blink. “I can use the blunt side of this to push those clasps out of the way. But why do you want to?”
“I never had enough frames, so I stashed older pictures behind newer ones. I put duplicates there too.”
He took the back off the frame and pulled out two hidden photos.
Cara held up two pictures with Johnny in them—one when Lori was a newborn and one when she was almost two.
“You’re pleased?” Trevor studied her.
“I am. Look.” She moved closer to Ephraim, pointing out a stuffed puppy in Lori’s hand that looked very similar to Better Days.
Her stalker, Mike, had done so much damage that it was natural to feel overwhelmed at just the thought of him, but Trevor was right. She had nothing to fear, and he’d done something for her no one else could—driven to New York on his own, found her old apartment building, and brought Lori pictures of her father.
She should hug him and really thank him, but she couldn’t make herself go that far.
“Come on.” She motioned to Trevor. “Let’s show these to Lori.”
Twenty-Six
Aaron closed the pliers over the loose strand of barbed wire and twisted the metal around and around, tightening it. More than a thousand feet of fence ran behind and ahead of him. It had taken him two days, but he’d almost finished repairing the half mile of fence line. A horse stood nearby, hitched to a work wagon loaded with topsoil. Sweat trickled down his face and neck as he used all his strength to tighten the eight feet of thick wire from one fence post to the next. His arms shook with weariness, and his legs felt weak.
He jerked the post back and forth to test it. It held tight, so it didn’t need fresh dirt packed around it. He withdrew a pad of paper and a stubby pencil from his pants pocket and jotted a note.
Farming wasn’t as miserable when he knew other people were on the property, helping him keep up. He stood straight, working the kinks out of his back.
Seeing Sylvi cross the field toward him caused his insides to do a little jig. It was a beautiful sight to behold—a dark-haired woman in a purple dress walking across green pastures. She held two half-gallon thermoses in her hands, but as thirsty as he was physically, he was thirstier for a conversation with her.
Aaron moved to the next fence post.
Sylvia had done more than dismantle the walls he’d tried to build between them; he found himself wishing she’d go with them when this place sold. Not that his Daed had agreed to sell yet, but he was moving in the right direction. Ten days had passed since Sylvia and his parents had gone to the Better Path and then to the appliance store. Aaron couldn’t control how he felt about Sylvia any more than he’d been able to control his desire for alcohol. Terrifying situation, really.
“Hey, Sylvi.” He clamped the pliers onto the wire. “Mamm too tired to walk this field again?”
She came to a halt near him. “No.”
He exerted muscle power to twist the wire, which was what Sylvia did to his insides with no effort at all. Her presence had him curious, though. She usually didn’t bring him drinks or food unless Mamm couldn’t do so.
Sylvi set one thermos on the ground and opened the spout on the other. She held the jug out to him.
He shoved the pliers into his tool belt, removed his work gloves, and took the thermos. The icy water tasted wonderful as it cooled his whole body. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s up?”
She got the large tin bowl out of the wagon. “Remember the favor you said you’d do for me if I’d go to church without arguing?”
“Is it finally time for it?”
“Ya.” She filled the bowl with water from the other thermos.
“So what can I do for you?”
She walked to the horse and set the bowl of water in front of it. “There’s a farming issue.”
“There are hundreds of farming issues. You only earned one favor.”
Technically he owed her far more than that, but he’d rather not admit it openly.
The lines of tension in her face didn’t fade even a little as he teased her. She walked over to the back of the wagon and sat on the tailgate. “Men never want to talk to a girl about farming.”
The embarrassment on her face bothered him. She was smart enough to understand whatever the issue was, even though no one had taught her the financial ins and outs of farming. It angered him that someone had treated her as if her opinion didn’t matter.
“What’s the problem?” He removed his tool belt, put it on the tailgate, and sat beside her.
“Some men from the EPA showed up about twenty minutes ago.”
What little energy he had left drained from him. He’d heard stories of government agencies stopping by farms to enforce new regulations. “Someone from the Environmental Protection Agency is here?”
“Something about the fence lines along the creek banks being in the wrong place.”
The thought of moving all the fencing along the waterway made him want to crawl into a hole. “Where are these men?”
“They’re driving along the fence line in their truck. I asked Michael to have them start in the east field so I’d have time to talk to you.”
He liked having her respect, though he longed to rail against the futile pursuit of farming. “So what’s the favor, Sylvi?”
Her brows knit and her eyes searched his, looking as if she thought her request had been clear. “To listen as if you have my heart for the farm and then help me understand what the problem is and how it can be fixed.”
He heard the fear in her voice. If she had no understanding of the problem, she had no chance of finding a solution. And he realized afresh how much she loved this place.
Sylvia kept searching the horizon. “There are the men from the EPA.” She pointed to a knoll a couple hundred feet away.
He looked across the field and saw a truck headed their way. He dreaded the two possibilities that could come out of this conversation—the work it would cause him or the standoff it would bring between him and this branch of government.
“I’ll go see if your Mamm needs anything.” She took the jug from him. “Will you come to the house to talk to me after they’re gone?”
“No.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.
“Why?”
He removed his hat and wiped sweat from his forehead and the rim of his hat. “You’re not going to the house. You’re staying right here.”
Her eyes met his, and a smile lifted her face.
The truck came to a stop, and two men got out.
Aaron put on his hat and looked at Sylvia. “If you have a question, ask it.”
They hopped off the tailgate.
“Aaro
n Blank?” one man said.
“Ya?”
The men stepped over clods of uneven ground. “I’m Dusty Randall.” Aaron shook his hand. “This is Brian Clayton. We’re with the Environmental Protection Agency. We understand you run this farm.”
“About half of it, actually. This is Sylvia Fisher. She runs the other half.”
Randall blinked. “Oh. I owe you an apology then.” He held out his hand to Sylvia. “I didn’t realize … Mr. Blank said I needed to talk to his son.”
Sylvia didn’t say a word as she shook his hand.
“What’s the problem?” Aaron asked.
“You’re in violation of federal regulations. Someone from the EPA came through here years ago and explained to all the farmers the regulations concerning fence lines and fresh waterways. According to my records this farm wasn’t in operation at the time. The sale of it to your father and his reestablishing it as a working dairy farm flew under our radar. We’re not sure how that happened, but we’re here to work with you to fix the problem.”
Randall began explaining about the Clean Water Act and the laws that governed where fences could and couldn’t be put and where animals could and couldn’t trod or graze. He pulled out a stack of papers stapled together. “There’s more information in here, but the bottom line is, we need to get these fences moved as quickly as possible. You can keep the old fences up for property-line purposes, but the new fence has to keep the cows a hundred feet from the creek.”
“A hundred feet.” Aaron mentally calculated how many hours of work it would take, how many miles of fence line would have to be moved, and how many acres of grazing land he’d lose. “What about the pasture on the other side of the creek? How are the cows supposed to get to that land to graze on it?”
“A culvert will need to be built, and the fence will attach to the railings so the cattle can’t get to the water.”
Aaron moaned. Did these men have any idea the amount of work and money it would take to build a cattle crossing of that type? “Then we have to find a new way for the cows to get water.”
“We’ll help you as much as we can.”
“How?” Sylvia asked.
“When the paperwork’s all filled out, you should qualify for a grant.”
Sylvia stepped forward. “What’s a grant?”
“It’s money given by the federal government for a specific purpose. It’s not a loan. If you qualify, the money must be used for its intended purpose, but you won’t have to pay it back. Our help is part of the package deal. We’ll bring in the manpower and the machines to dig the postholes, place the concrete or metal culvert, and run some or all of the line. You can get your own supplies with the grant money, or we can provide them. You can be here directing or leave it all up to us. If you don’t feel you can accept a government grant to help offset the costs, you don’t have to. You have the right to do it however you want. If you do it on your own, you’ll have ninety days to comply. If you want our help, it’ll have to be done in thirty days. We have other projects on the schedule after that.” Randall passed Aaron the stapled papers.
Aaron looked at the fat stack. “What’s this?”
“Details outlining regulations and offering solutions. This farm is clearly struggling with outdated equipment. A modern system that helps handle waste management would make your days much easier and protect the environment too.” He turned to the other man. “Would you get him an information packet?”
Clayton grabbed a thick manila envelope out of the truck and handed it to Aaron.
“Everything you need to know is in there,” Randall said.
“Excuse me,” Sylvia said. “Will moving the fence fix all the problems?”
Randall drew a deep breath. “There could be penalties for the years of violation. Either you or your father might need to go before a board and explain why you weren’t compliant to the laws.”
“How stiff a penalty?” Sylvia asked.
“Hard to say. The regulations take into account the number of cows and each day you’ve been in violation.”
Her face went ashen. “A penalty for each day, and it’s been years?”
If she’d seen farming through rose-colored glasses before coming to the Blank farm, those glasses were being ripped off her face. That wasn’t a bad thing, but Aaron wished the men would leave and give her a chance to absorb the news.
“We’ll need time to read this information and think about what we’re going to do,” he said.
“Sure.” Randall pulled a phone out of his pocket. “Today’s July 24. Allowing time for all the work you do, it’ll probably take you close to a week to read through everything and fill out the necessary forms, so I’ll be back out July 30. But, like I said, if you want our help, we only have thirty days from today to resolve this issue. And the sooner you show cooperation, the better the penalty assessment will go.”
“I understand.”
The men climbed into their truck and drove off.
Sylvia eased onto the tailgate. “How could we farm all this time and not know about this regulation?”
“I’m sure the answer to that is in here.” Aaron tapped the stack of papers.
“Has anything like this happened before?”
“No. Usually there’s no grant money to help out. This could be easier to deal with than most of the problems that come up on a farm.”
“If we qualify, will Michael accept money from the government?”
“I don’t know. Taking government money isn’t a comfortable position to be in. I’m not even sure how I feel about it. Are you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Whatever is decided about the grant money, the fences have to be moved. This place can’t be sold as a working farm if it’s not in line with federal regulations. To get around that issue, we’d have to sell the herd, and I’d have to drop the price so low we couldn’t pay off the mortgage.”
He expected her to tell him she needed the fence moved in order to keep the feds from shutting down their operation, but she said nothing as she walked to the spot where she’d left the thermoses, gathered them, and put them in the wagon.
“I’m heading back,” she said.
Watching her strength evaporate was more than he could stand. She took the horse’s water bowl and dumped the remaining contents on the ground. Tears welled in her eyes. He didn’t know what to say. She’d taken a hard hit. Why did he feel as if he’d been the one to issue the blow?
“How about I give you a lift back to your place or the barn?”
Passing him the bowl, she offered a tender smile. “I’ll walk. Denki.”
He fought the temptation to offer comfort or put his hand on her shoulder. The lesson had to be learned, and softening it for her would be a lie. She slowly made her way across the field. Why did this godforsaken money pit matter to her so much anyway?
Seeing her now was like watching someone drown, and he could do nothing about it.
Could he?
Twenty-Seven
Lena stood at the counter of the doctor’s office, paying her bill. Dr. Stone had removed her cast and kept her medical boot. Her arm tingled a bit, especially her fingertips, but mostly it just felt weird not to be wearing a cast. The doctor had said she was doing really well but that the damage to her arm had been extensive. He’d lined up months of physical therapy.
She’d hoped her hand and arm would be completely healed by now. But considering that Dwayne’s goal had been to kill her, she was beyond grateful.
Just as she reached the exit, a man opened the door for her from the outside. When she looked up to thank him, she saw Grey wearing a knowing smile.
“I spotted your horse and rig when I pulled in and wondered if I’d catch you. I see the cast is off.”
Lena held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Ya.”
He gestured toward her carriage.
She went to the hitching post and untied her horse. “Today’s the day you find out what the tes
t results were?”
“It is. Dr. Stone agreed to examine the genetic specialist’s reports and interpret them for me.”
A nervous shiver ran through her as she stood at the hitching post, playing with the leather strip she’d used to tether the horse. “Good. I’m glad. This has bothered you long enough.”
“It could bother me even more before it’s all over. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“It’s a weighty thing.” She wouldn’t tell him she’d lost sleep over it too. “Do you know how much I’m looking forward to our years together? Whatever you find out in there does not change that.” She opened and closed her hand, trying to rid it of the tingly feeling.
“Do your fingers feel funny?”
“Ya. Dr. Stone said the stinging and numbness should go away over the next few weeks. I begin physical therapy tomorrow. But I can’t wait to get my gloveless hand in potting soil.”
“I think you simply like to play in the dirt, Lennie.”
“Remember when we booby-trapped the door to my greenhouse?”
Grey laughed at the reminder of the time they’d placed a bucket of soil on top of the doorjamb. “The look on your Daed’s face when all that dirt landed on him was priceless.”
“And as soon as Daed was gone, we reset the trap, remember? But my brother still didn’t come through the door. However, the very expectant preacher’s wife did.”
Grey rubbed his chest, a gesture she’d come to understand in the last few months that meant a heaviness was lifting from him. “She didn’t appreciate your joke one bit.”
“Oh, my joke, was it? May I remind you I was only nine, and you were a savvy fourteen-year-old?”
“Ya, that’s it. I was savvy.” His laughter slowed, and he studied her, his eyes radiating affection. “And the community wonders why all your girlfriends started pulling stunts on each other. I knew why the first time I heard about one of those tricks.”
“You never told on me.” She went to her carriage and got in. “We’ll be fine no matter what the results are. Although I do have concerns for the rest of the community.”
The Harvest of Grace Page 21
