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  When Beulah opened her eyes, Annie was watching her, grinning. “I never saw anybody smell dirt,” Annie said.

  Beulah laughed again, feeling a deep contentment inside her take hold. She pushed herself up, trying to hide the struggle with her knee from Annie.

  “This dirt holds our history. It’s like a time machine for me. I never know what memory will play out when I smell it.”

  Annie bent down and scooped a handful and brought it to her nose. “Smells like dirt to me.”

  “You don’t have as many memories here as I do. It’ll come to you one day.” Beulah reached for the hoe and used it to steady herself. “Land sakes, you worked the ground up so fine, it’s almost like sand. We better put the zinnias and marigolds on this outside row.” She pointed to the edge of the garden. “I left room when I planted that first row of beans. They’ll keep bugs out of the garden and make nice cuttings for the kitchen table.”

  Beulah scattered the flower seeds and showed Annie how to rake the soil over them with the hoe. Annie finished the row of flowers and waited for the next instruction.

  “Let’s start another row here and put in more green beans. This time, you’ll make a furrow with the edge of the hoe, like this,” Beulah turned the hoe at an angle and dragged it a few inches so Annie would see what she meant. “Tighten the rope, three feet from the last row, and use it as a guide.”

  Beulah watched as Annie dragged the corner of the hoe the length of the garden. “That’s good.” A good straight row meant a person cared about her work.

  “I remember dropping the seeds in, but how far apart?” Annie asked.

  “Two or three inches. I’d rather have to thin the plants than have a sparse row.”

  Annie covered the seeds after dropping them. Beulah watched as she did another row of beans and then two rows of corn.

  “We’ll leave this space in the middle for more beans and corn in a couple of weeks. We don’t want everything coming in at once or we’ll be worked to death. On this end of the garden, we’ll put our squash, zucchini and pepper plants.”

  Annie fetched plant trays for the final two rows.

  “Space those out about four feet each so the vines have room to wind around,” Beulah instructed.

  She watched Annie on her knees, digging a hole for the plants with the trowel. It was then that Annie disappeared and instead, Beulah imagined it was Jo Anne digging the hole and dropping the plant in it, as she had done many times years ago. A red bandanna held her brown hair back from her face, her creamy skin a little too pale and her brown eyes seeking Beulah’s for approval.

  “Am I doing all right?” she called.

  Beulah, transfixed by the image of her daughter, couldn’t answer.

  Jo Anne stood, dropping the trowel, and walked to her. “Grandma, are you all right?”

  “Jo Anne … Jo Anne,” Beulah repeated.

  “No, Grandma, it’s me, Annie … your granddaughter. Come sit here next to the smokehouse,” Annie said, leading Beulah by the arm. “I think the sun might be too hot.” Beulah followed and then sat hard on the stack of concrete blocks next to the smokehouse wall.

  “I’ll get you something to drink,” Annie said, leaving her to puzzle out what had happened.

  For a moment, Jo Anne was there. Beulah saw her plain as she saw the brown dirt in the garden. But Jo Anne was gone, having died at nearly the age Annie was right now. But she saw her, Beulah knew it.

  “Here, drink this.” Annie handed her a cold glass of sweet tea. “You look like you saw a ghost!”

  “My knee’s bothering me. Must be the pain,” Beulah said.

  “How long have you had pain in your knee?”

  Beulah heard Annie, but the effort to respond was too much. “We’re finished anyway,” Annie said. “Rest here for a minute and then I’ll help you back to the house.”

  Finished. Finished gardening today or forever?

  The vividness of the vision faded, although the impression embedded itself in something tender deep within her.

  After a few minutes of rest, she stood to go in the house. When she did, a searing pain ripped through her knee, and the smell of earth came full in her nostrils.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Annie’s emergency training as a flight attendant took over when her grandmother fell. She was by her side in an instant, relieved to see she was conscious and able to answer Annie’s questions.

  “My knee,” her grandmother said, but Annie wanted to be sure it wasn’t something more serious.

  Worried it was sunstroke, or something worse, Annie said, “I’m calling an ambulance.”

  “Absolutely not!” Beulah called before Annie made it two steps away from her. “I’ll not have sirens wailing up my driveway, scaring all the neighbors. It’s my knee. Call Evelyn and see if Jake can come and help me get to the house.”

  Within minutes, the Wilders arrived. Evelyn held the door while Jake and Annie carried Beulah to the living room couch.

  Jake positioned her across the faded polyester couch, and Evelyn threw a hand-knitted afghan of orange, green and gold yarn over her legs.

  “I’ll put away the garden equipment,” Jake said.

  “Thank you,” Beulah replied.

  “It’s time for that medicine, Beulah,” said Evelyn, and there was no question in her voice.

  “It’s in the cupboard next to the phone,” Beulah said.

  “What medicine?” Annie asked as she tucked the blanket around her grandmother’s legs.

  “Pain pills.”

  Evelyn brought the pill bottle back with a glass of water, and Beulah took it.

  “What’s wrong with your knee?” Annie asked.

  Beulah looked up at Evelyn and Annie saw silent information pass between them.

  “What? Somebody, out with it!” Annie insisted.

  “Beulah, tell her or I will,” Evelyn said.

  “Oh, all right. I need a knee replacement. I’ll do it this fall.”

  “Why does it have to wait? Why can’t you get it done now?” Annie asked.

  “Good question, dear,” Evelyn said, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Oh good heavens! In fifty years, I’ve never gone one summer without raising a garden or canning my own food. I’m not starting now, and that’s the end of that. This is just a bad spell. It will ease off, and I’ll be able to get around.”

  “But Grandma, you’re in serious pain!” Annie protested.

  “I’m not having the surgery now,” Beulah said.

  “Just rest, dear, and let the medicine start working,” said Evelyn in a soothing voice.

  “Evelyn, I’ll have to take a rain check on the Old Mill, but Annie can go.”

  “No, I’ll stay here with you,” Annie said.

  “We’ll see you at lunch tomorrow if you’re feeling better,” Evelyn said, patting Beulah on the arm.

  Beulah was relaxing and her eyes drooped, the medicine taking effect. Annie followed Evelyn out to the back porch.

  “How long has she had this?” she asked.

  “Dr. Bright referred her to a surgeon over three months ago. She won’t do it until after summer. I’ve already tried.”

  “Why is a garden that important to her?” Annie asked. “I went to the cellar last week to get something for her, and there are still canned fruits and vegetables from a couple of years ago.”

  Evelyn sighed, her eyes following Jake as he pushed the wheel barrow toward the equipment shed.

  “Many reasons, some even I don’t understand. But I do know food is her ministry. It’s how she takes care of people. The garden is an important part of that. I think it also marks the seasons in her life. If she goes a year without doing it, then maybe it’s the last time, which means she’s growing old. It’s a part of her life, a part of living on the farm. I think it’s somehow tied to Fred too.”

  “Grandpa? How’s that?”

  “Fred used to brag and brag to anyone who would listen about Beulah’s garden veget
ables. Every Sunday in the summer, he would tell everyone at church how many quarts of beans she had put up, how many bags of corn she had frozen, how many quarts of tomatoes, on and on.” Evelyn slid into the passenger side of Jake’s SUV. “He was proud of her and her work. I think Beulah doesn’t want to let go of that memory either.”

  “I put everything in the storage shed. Anything else we can do?” Jake asked.

  “No. Thank you both for coming.” Annie felt a grateful affection for both mother and son.

  “We’ll check on her later,” Evelyn said before they turned around and headed down the driveway, the rear bumper bouncing as tires dropped into deep potholes.

  It was after dark when Annie heard a quiet knock on the back door.

  “Hey!” Jake said, after Annie answered. “How’s Beulah?”

  “Resting well. She must not take any medicine on a regular basis. That pain pill knocked her out! How was dinner?” Annie held the door, but Jake stood outside.

  “Not the same. Can I offer you a fence post?” he asked.

  Annie laughed. “Sure!”

  She followed him out to the other side of the drive where the plank fence posts were positioned several feet apart. Annie and Jake selected two next to each other and climbed up to sit. No clouds obstructed the stars, and a full view of the spring night sky stretched above them.

  “Ah, this is much better than sitting at the kitchen table,” Annie said.

  “Unless it’s mealtime. Then there’s no better place to be than Beulah’s table,” Jake said.

  Annie sighed. “I’m going to have to do something about her bedroom. That couch is hard as a stone bench. And how has she climbed those stairs all this time?”

  “She’s tough.”

  “And stubborn.”

  “Reminds me of someone else.”

  “And who are you referring to?” Annie asked in mock sarcasm.

  “Not many girls from Somerville have headed off to New York City after college. That takes guts and a strong will. I always admired that in you.”

  Annie soaked in his words and enjoyed the warmth it gave her.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly. “But I never looked at it that way. After college, I wanted a new start, away from everybody knowing my business. New York was the total opposite of Somerville.”

  In the easy silence between them, Annie rubbed her hands together, feeling the blisters below her fingers on the palm of her hands. Tenderly, she felt each one and thought about the hard work she had done today.

  “So when are you hoping to make a decision about your future?” Annie asked.

  “Hopefully by midsummer. If I decide to leave the bank, I want to give them as much notice as possible.”

  “Haven’t you already decided to leave the bank by turning down the CEO track?”

  “Not exactly. They’ve offered me a job with their foundation and I guess that’s somewhat attractive.”

  “And where would you live if you moved back here?” Annie asked, wanting to know all the details of Jake’s plans, maybe if only to make sure he had thought of everything.

  “Probably the guesthouse. When Suzanne comes back to visit with the kids, she likes to stay in the house with Mom anyway so it’s not used all that often. Then I can tramp mud all over the floor and not worry about Mom’s garden club luncheons or whatever else she might be doing.”

  The guesthouse was a separate structure on the Wilder farm, built for servants in the late eighteen hundreds. Evelyn had remodeled it, adding a kitchenette and bathroom for her family to use when they visited from Lexington.

  Annie had to ask him the question that had been on her mind since they talked that morning. “Jake, what is it about farming that you’re so passionate about? It’s hard work for a fraction of what you make in banking. I know how city people can idealize it, but you and I both know it can be a hard way to live.”

  She studied his face, dimly lit from the barn’s security light, his brow furrowed, his eyes intense.

  “Camille’s dad invited me to tour one of his convention hotels in downtown Cincinnati a few months ago. When we got to the kitchen, he asked the chef to show me around while he returned a phone call. There was this huge walk-in freezer full of frozen meat, any way you like it, cooked, breaded and seasoned. Frozen vegetables ready-mixed with sauces. Outside the freezer were massive cans of processed cheese and other sauces to make up for the lack of flavor in the meat. In that moment, it was like all the dots connected for me. Everything I’d been reading about caring for the land and our food production from Wendell Berry to Michael Pollan all made sense. Farming has been reduced to ruining the land, the animals, and the produce in order to mass produce cheap food that is ruining our bodies.” He took a deep breath. “I want to change that, Annie. Even if I don’t do it full time, I want to start making a change on our farm. To start stewarding the resources God gave us the way they’re meant to be.”

  The passion in his voice, no—his whole body—convinced Annie. Jake needed to do this thing, no matter the cost.

  “Then you should do it. If you feel that way about it, you should do it no matter what it takes.”

  He looked at her then as if she had handed him a bar of gold straight from Fort Knox.

  “Do you really think so?”

  She nodded. “I’m just jealous that I don’t feel that passionate about anything. I wish I did.”

  “Don’t wish for it. It’s made me miserable a few times this past year. I keep thinking I’m crazy for wanting to leave a great job, and nobody around me gets it. I can’t tell you what it means to hear you say that.”

  “I do get it,” she said. “And I wouldn’t mind reading some of those books if you can give me some recommendations.”

  He laughed. “I can do better than that,” he said, jumping off the post. “I’ll bring you my copies when I go back to Cincinnati.”

  He held his arms out to help her down from her perch. “If you need help moving Beulah’s bed downstairs, I’ll be glad to lend a hand before I leave tomorrow.”

  When Annie lay in bed that night, the last thing she saw before falling asleep was her grandmother’s twisted and pale face as she fell.

  For all her mother’s physical frailties, her grandmother had been the very opposite: hearty and tough, strong of mind and body. Annie believed her grandmother would always be there for her to push against. If her grandmother said something was black, Annie claimed it was white, while her grandfather mediated between the two.

  After he died, Annie hadn’t wanted to forge a new relationship with her grandmother. It was easier to ignore in New York where life traveled at the speed of light. But here, in the quiet and stillness of the country, the truth was plain.

  Thinking back over the years past, she understood now that her grandmother had tried in the best way she knew how: phone calls, letters, requests for visits, admonitions when needed, and love in the way she knew how to show it. Annie, on the other hand, had focused only on herself, what she needed and what felt good to her. Annie had given nothing back. Even worse, she had pushed her grandmother away these last two years, when they needed each other more than ever.

  There were no excuses now, no reasons not to do what was right. For once, she needed to put her grandmother’s needs before her own. The decision settled, Annie finally gave in to a deep and peaceful sleep.

  The next morning, Annie was up before her grandmother. She plugged in the percolator and was already into her first cup of coffee when her grandmother hobbled into the kitchen, using one of her grandfather’s canes for support. Still in her nightdress and slippers, she looked older and weaker, Annie thought.

  “How do you feel?” Annie asked.

  “I’ll be fine as soon as I get some coffee and take my pills. Don’t believe I’ll go to church today. First time I’ve missed since the weekend after Fred died.”

  “Sit down, and I’ll get your coffee for you.”

  “Now, there’s no sense in making a fuss,
” Beulah protested.

  “I’m not making a fuss, only getting your coffee.”

  Reluctantly, Beulah sat down.

  Annie talked as she poured. “Why don’t we call that surgeon on Monday and make an appointment to see him?”

  “Annie …”

  “Look, Grandma. I thought about it last night. I don’t have a job right now. I can stay here and do the gardening and canning until you get back on your feet.”

  “Annie, you’re going back to New York soon. We won’t even get in to see the surgeon before then.”

  “Grandma, I can stay here as long as necessary. I might get my job back in three months, but it might be six. This is really a good time for you to have the operation.”

  “That’s sweet of you, but your life is up North. You’ll soon tire of caring for an old woman.”

  “Grandma,” Annie leaned in. “I want to do this. Let me do something for you for once. You gave up your life to finish raising me. Now it’s my turn to do one small thing for you.”

  There were tears in her grandmother’s eyes, a rare thing indeed.

  “Now, I don’t remember anything about canning and not much about gardening, so you’ll have to teach me. But I can do it.”

  “I’ve always wanted to teach you, but I couldn’t figure how that would help you in New York City.” Beulah laughed.

  “It will help me more than you know.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beulah sipped her coffee, trying to figure out what was different. She had told Annie how many scoops to put in the percolator basket, but it seemed much stronger. Personally, she always liked strong coffee, but it seemed a waste to run through a can too fast.

  Sitting on the edge of her twin bed brought down from the spare bedroom upstairs, Beulah looked around her new bedroom, amazed at the miracle Annie and Jake had worked in only a couple of hours Sunday afternoon. They moved her sewing machine and table upstairs along with all the material and other supplies and moved the bed, nightstand, Bible and a lamp down the steps. Some of her clothes were now in the small closet where yards of material used to be, and lickety-split, she had a bedroom on the first floor.