The moment was profound even though I expected it. This man, my grandfather and the only father figure I’ve ever known, who raised me as his own and loved me unconditionally, was finally at peace and in the arms of his beloved. It gave me great comfort knowing those two were together again. They were finally whole, as Madison explained to me. Two halves back together.
Complete.
I know the intensity of my grief will ease over time, but I will never get over the loss of my grandfather. For now, I’ll focus on the good things and their impact on my life. After Grandma Rosie died, he used to remind me that death was a naturalpart of life. And even though it’s painful, it’s part of the human experience.
Myexperience.
I have a lot more living to do. More to explore in my life. More adventures and milestones with Madison by my side.
Sweet, gorgeous, loyal, Madison.
I felt terrible when we had to postpone our wedding. But in hindsight, it was the right thing to do. We turned our special day into a glorious celebration of life for my grandfather, and I’ll always be indebted to Madison for her sacrifice.
We’ve chosen to live together in the big house, our wedding on hold for now. If I had it my way, we’d get married at the Heartsboro Courthouse—quick and easy without a bunch of fuss. But she deserves the wedding of her dreams, not some quickie, boring ceremony in front of a judge.
Madison mentioned a Christmas-themed wedding in December, and I must admit, the idea has grown on me. I love Christmas. And I love Madison.
It’s a win-win combination.
***
As I walk along the pathways in the dormant lavender fields, there’s a slight nip in the air as the morning fog surrounds me. As usual, I’m up at sunrise, traipsing across the property withpurpose and vision. The farm is all mine now. I didn’t cave and sell part of it to Kip Johnson. Everyone close to me convinced me I could do this, that I could run the farm with the help of some of the loyal workers, and with Madison by my side. And now that I’ve had time to face this without my grandfather’s help, I believe I can.
I’m unsure if I would’ve made this decision if it hadn’t been for their belief in me. But I did make this decision on my own. And it’s a good one too. My lips curl into a smile, knowing Pop would be proud of me.
Madison’s condo is on the market, and she’s officially unemployed. Well, unemployed in the corporate world. She wrapped things up with her company, helping them transition her contracts to another teammate. I’m proud of her for not burning any bridges, her professionalism and work ethic impressive. She’s already taken over the accounting books for the farm, and we’ve turned my cottage into a guest house where Beverly stays during her frequent visits.
I know Jamison Farm is in good hands with Madison at the helm of the financial wheel. The big news is that I fired Kip and hired Billy Hood shortly after Pop died. Billy is a longtime worker who knows the farm like the back of his hand. He was ecstatic when I offered him the job. He was also glad he wouldn’t have to work with Kip any longer.
That’s what surprised me the most through all of this: Kip.
I never realized how much his bullying grated on others because I assumed I was the only one who ever experienced his wrath. Boy, was I wrong. The other workers shared countlessstories about what a jerk he was to them over the years, even to some of our clients. Thank goodness that chapter has finally come to an end.
I watch the rusty windmill in the open fields teeter and tilt in the breeze. It’s wild to think I’m responsible for the windmill. And the surrounding fields, fenceposts, houses, underground spring, and barns. I’m in charge of everything on the farm.
Me.
George Jamison.
With my hands planted on my hips, I turn my focus toward the historic red barn in the distance, the one my grandfather’s ancestors built with their bare hands. My brow furrows when I notice a peculiar dark purple fog rising from the rooftop. Or maybe it’s smoke.
Smoke?
My adrenaline kicks in, and I race across the fields toward the structure. I gallop up the small embankment and see the onset of apparent flames between the cracks of the barn wood, sending thick plumes of purple smoke into the already hazy sky. I struggle with the latch on the barn door, my muscles straining as I slide it open, a thick cloud of smoke and several chickens exiting in a rush of feathers and high-pitched squawks to safety.
I look up into the rafters, my heart sinking at the sight of the upside-down lavender fully engulfed, the tongues of firelicking at the walls and consuming the rafters. The destructive scene is almost too much to bear.
I rush to the master switch outside the barn to cut off the power, and I remember the hose hooked up by the water trough. As I round the corner with my boots sliding on the hard-packed earth, I spot Kip in the distance, running through the fields, away from the devastation.
“What the…”
I drop the hose and run after him at full speed, the ancient structure behind me crackling and groaning under the intense heat. But the barn, filled with an entire profitable year of burning lavender is the least of my worries right now.
This is what Kip meant when he told Madison there would be payback.
I watch him try to scale a fence until his boot gets stuck in the barbed wire. I’m gaining on him and can see the terror in his expression as he struggles and flails to get away.
By this time, several of the day laborers have arrived, and grown men are jumping out of trucks and using the hose to douse the dry grass around the terrifying blaze so it won’t spread to the main house. Hopefully, someone has called the authorities.
