she was in Dell’s childhood memories. Sturdy jeans and boots, a flannel shirt folded up to the elbows. Slightly graying dark blond hair pulled back into a braid. She didn’t wrinkle or change. She was just Mom. Strong, sturdy, calming. If it wasn’t for her, he and Dad would probably have come to blows at some point.
Mom stood next to him on the top stair of the porch, watching Colby return lazily with the ball. “You can’t let your father get to you.”
“I’m not sure I have a choice.”
“Of course you do. We always have a choice. I know it’s frustrating, but he isn’t trying to be the bad guy here, Dell. He’s wrong, but that doesn’t mean his reasons aren’t right.”
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.” Dell bent down to scratch Colby’s ears. “You know Mia Pruitt?”
“Oh, sweet little Mia. Poor girl.”
Dell frowned, momentarily put off the point of bringing up Mia and how she was getting her family farm. “Why do you say that?”
“I just remember how she always seemed to be the butt of everyone’s jokes. And no one I’ve ever met is in more need of stick-up-her-ass removal than Sarah Pruitt. The woman made being a co-room mother for Kenzie’s kindergarten class a nightmare. That kind of stress from a mother can’t be good for young girls.”
“They seem fine enough.” Fine enough to dance with him and infiltrate his dreams in ways he was not at all comfortable with. “Her dad’s selling her his farm.”
“You know, it’s like that TV doctor says. Karmic debt.”
“You really need to stop watching daytime TV.” Dell took the slobbery tennis ball from Colby’s mouth. He stood and hurled it again, farther this time. “Besides, I don’t see how the two are related.”
“It’s not for you to see.”
“Mom, no offense, but sometimes that crap is a billion times more annoying than you just coming out and saying I’m a jackass.”
Mom laughed. “Maybe that’s why I do it.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Dell, honey, I know there’s a lot of tension over this.”
“I don’t understand why—”
Mom held up a hand and he stopped as he always had. “I can tell you what it’ll take to change your father’s mind. He won’t like that I told you, and he’ll still complain about you not wanting something more—which is silly, of course, because your roots are here, and what more is there?”
“Mom—”
“The point is, it’s going to take some concentrated effort. He wants to see if this farm can support you and a family, should you choose to have one. Farming is changing. New Benton is changing. He wants to see this farmers’ market and CSA give you the kind of security the pigs and corn and soybeans do. It’s not wrong he wants to know you’ll be taken care of. I want that, too.”
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