“Nothing,” I tell her. “When we get to Grandma’s, don’t forget we have to bring in the groceries.”
“I know,” she says. “I’ll help.”
She probably will. But half the time she’s so happy to see Foghorn, the wolfhound mix that’s roamed the house and tree farm since I was in high school, that she forgets to even greet her grandparents.
I pull up in front of my parents’ house. It’s a beautiful little rancher they built on the land back when Mom was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and the stairs in the old three-story farmhouse became a trial on her joints.
The doctor had told her to ease back on activities when she was flaring up. Of course, she said she was just fine.
Dad nodded and went along with her, but a weeklater, Chester Simmons was out here, measuring the outline of the rancher.
I remember getting up for a glass of water that night and overhearing Mom and Dad talking. Mom was upset about spending so much on the new house, insisting that the money was supposed to be something to pass on to the kids. My dad finally brought her around to the idea by telling her they would give us the old house and the farm instead, that it would be enough.
So that was exactly what they did, and it was more than enough. How many people can say they’ve inherited a house and farm while their parents are still living?
And knowing Mom can conserve her energy for the things she loves most makes all of us happy. Dad designed the house with wide hallways and doorways and a ramp to the front door, so that she’ll always have as much freedom as possible, even if she sometimes needs to use a walker or even a wheelchair one day.
For now, she seems as active as ever, and for that we’re all grateful.
Dad still works with my brother and me, and we split our profits three ways. My goal is to do well enough to buy Buck out. He works hard and he’s an upbeat guy, but I know this isn’t the life he wants long-term.
For me, it’s all I can imagine. And Meg’s happy herewith family around. If I have to be a single dad, I’m glad I can at least give her that.
We’ve just gotten out of the truck and loaded ourselves up with groceries when Foghorn comes bounding out from behind the house, moaning like he hasn’t seen us in years, even though I saw Meg giving him a good belly rub this morning.
“Hey, buddy,” she sings out. “Hi, old friend.”
Foghorn prances alongside her, smiling with his tongue lolling out. He rears up slightly on his back legs here and there to snuffle at the bags, which makes her giggle.
“There you are,” Mom’s happy voice rings through the cold air. “You brought me groceries.”
“Yes,” Meg tells her. “Wait till you see what we got.”
I know she’s excited about the candy canes. Meg loves them and so does her grandmother. And I can’t ever deny them a simple treat. I probably overdid it, but I got a couple of boxes so Mom can tuck a few of them in the cupboard.
“I can’t wait,” Mom replies.
“Is that my granddaughter?” Dad booms from the doorway.
They fuss over Meg, and it’s pretty clear that she loves it. Whenever I get stormy about Erica leaving her without a mom, I remember my parents and feel better. It may not be the traditional setup, but Meg’s got a good pack around her.
I follow them all into the house. It’s warm insideand it smells absolutely incredible—like cinnamon and spruce. You’d think working on a tree farm would ruin the smell of evergreens, but I don’t think anything ever could for me. We head down the center hall to the great room, and I set the bags on the counter in the open kitchen and then head back out for the rest.
“Need more help, Dad?” Meg asks from the floor, where she’s already lying with Foghorn sitting on her chest, industriously licking her from chin to forehead.
“Nope,” I tell her. “I’m good. Be right back.”
It’s only when I come in with the rest of the groceries that I notice Dad’s got an enormous spruce set up in the corner, with the Christmas bins from the shed lined up beside it.
“Dad,” Meg says, scampering over to me with a worried look on her face. “Grandma and Grandpa want to decorate the tree tonight.”
“Right,” I say. “I forgot too. But that’s great, since you’re home early.”
“What about Taylor?” she asks worriedly. “I told her I’d help with the books.”
“I can help her,” I offer. “If anyone comes for a tree, I’ll just run over and take care of them.”
“Really?” she asks, looking happier right away.
