“But the—” Wes began.
“—it’s just dirt and trees without someone to tend them,” Diane concluded, reaching across the table and covering Wes’s hand with hers. “Your mama wouldn’t want you working yourself to death, honey. She’d want you to live.”
Wes’s eyes welled. He thought of his mother in her final days, worried about him, making him promise to be happy.
He’d promised. Then he’d spent five years doing everything except that.
“Then, I reached out to Mr. Marley here—Jake.” She smiled warmly. “Because of him, I was able to hire help. We reached out to other farms that taught me best practices. Cody set up the books and an ordering system online. The farm’s doing better now than it has in years.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s more than good. It’s what Robert would have wanted.” She squeezed Wes’s hand. “And it’s what Linda would have wanted for you.”
They left an hour later, after Diane insisted they take a pie for Henry. In the car, Wes stared out the window, processing.
“You okay?” Jake asked.
“She knew my mom since they were kids.”
“Yeah?”
“Mom loved that orchard. We’d go every summer for peaches.” Wes closed his eyes. “After she died, I couldn’t go back. Couldn’t face Diane, couldn’t face... any of it.”
“But you did today.”
“Because you made me.”
“I didn’t make you do anything. I just drove.”
“You’re also the reason that farm is still operating... that Ms. Diane can still handle it.”
“It’s what I do, Wes.” Jake’s eyes twinkled as he reached out and stroked Wes’s temple with the back of his hand. “Eventually, that’s gonna sink in. I just know it.”
“I don’t know. I've got a thick skull… or so I’m told.” Wes winked. “Where are we going now?”
“Lunch first. Then, the Whitlocks’ vineyard.”
“The young couple?”
“Sarah and Keith, yes.”
They stopped at a diner between properties. The TV above the counter was showing the news. A meteorologist pointed at a system developing over Texas.
“Could bring significant icing to central Georgia,”she said.“We’re watching this closely.”
“They always say that,” the waitress commented, refilling their coffee. “Gets everyone worked up over nothing.”
Wes and Jake ordered burgers and sat in silence for a while. Finally, Jake spoke.
“My third foster home was with an older couple. The Hendersons. They were kind, stable. I stayed there for almost two years—the longest I ever stayed anywhere.”
Wes waited, sensing there was more.
“Mrs. Henderson had a garden. Nothing fancy, just vegetables and some flowers. She taught me how to tend it, how to be patient with growing things.” Jake smiled sadly. “Then Mr. Henderson had a stroke. A bad one. They couldn’t keep foster kids anymore, so I got moved to another home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The thing is, I never went back. Never visited, never called. I was thirteen and angry, and I thought if I couldn’t stay, what was the point?” Jake looked at his hands. “She died when I was in college. I found out on Facebook. In the pictures from the estate sale, the garden was all overgrown.”
