Page 9 of Sunny Skies Ahead
My parents were gone a lot when I was a kid. My father was a businessman, always seeking his next idea, and my mother simply wanted to follow him wherever he went. She hated Watford, and didn’t want to spend any more time here than necessary. That ‘necessary’ time involved dropping her children off with their Nana and heading back to the big city to be with her rich husband.
“Things are going,” I said, somewhat nervous about having this conversation with everyone present. I took a big sip of water in order to buy myself time to figure out what to say. “Since the festival, things have really picked up. I’ve been sending some of my products to a local farmer’s market in a neighboring county with the help of another local farm. It’s been sapping more of my time and energy than I’d been expecting.”
I felt bad that I was even complaining about this, because six years ago I’d been desperate to make a living that didn’t involve selling my soul and every hour of my day to a corporate job. The woman I was six years ago wouldn’t have been able to comprehend the level of success the homestead has achieved now.
But that itch to try something new remained.
I had needed the healing space this farm had provided for me after I left my ex-husband. I’d needed a place to come and unpack everything, to heal. I’d needed to work with my hands and dig in the dirt and feel the grass and mud underneath my feet, to nurture plants and livestock, to look around and understand that the world was still a good place, although bad people existed.
“Are you thinking of moving?” Lucas asked in between bites, quirking an eyebrow towards me. I shook my head fiercely.
“Well, I couldn’t sell it soon, with the amount of work that it needs done,” I said with a small laugh. That was the understatement of the century. This house not only needed cosmetic updates to bring it out of the eighties and into the 21st century, but there were many structural updates I’d been putting off, like replacing the air conditioning unit and much of the plumbing. Only the kitchen had been modernized.
“Besides, this is the only thing I have left of my grandmother and her influence in my life. I love this house and everything it has been to me over the years. But I am thinking of selling some livestock and minimizing operations back down to where they were before the festival. I think I got caught up in what could be, especially after the festival, when so many people were interested in partnering with me for various business opportunities. I expanded more quickly than I could handle.”
There were also financial considerations with the house; not that I was going to declare that to everyone.
I’d spent a good part of my meager savings on starting my homestead operations. Purchasing my livestock, constructing buildings to house them, buying feed every month, vet visits, general upkeep. . . the list was long and expensive.
My savings were dwindling, and the more time I spent in this house, the more I felt suffocated by that realization. The homestead’s profit margins had widened in the months following the Founder’s Day Festival, but I feared the growth wasn’t sustainable.
The fact remained that if there was an emergency, either in the farmhouse or outside of it, I wouldn’t have enough money to fix it. And that was terrifying.
Kameron nodded, and I focused on him as I tried to calm my panicking heart.
“We have our own experience with that. If we weren’t able to hire farmhands to come in and help us take care of most of the daily upkeep tasks, I would have sold part of our herd off a long time ago.”
“That’s exactly where I’m at,” I said. “With the farmhouse needing repairs, it’s coming to a point where I either need to bring in more help or change the way I’m doing things.”
As if I could afford to hire paid help. A few of the local high school FFA students shadowed me after the festival, wanting to gain more hands-on experience with homesteading and learn more about what it actually takes to make this place run daily.
It was scary to admit that out loud, even though I was among friends.
Such was the nature of having your trust broken at a young age. It made it uncomfortable to be vulnerable with others.
I’d already started overthinking what I’d shared when the conversation moved on after Lucas brought up some random news headline he’d read earlier in the day. I relaxed slightly, hunched over the table as I finished my spaghetti. With the spotlight now off me, I could focus on doing what I did best: taking part in the conversation from the sidelines.
Dinner wrapped up as it always did, with everyone carrying their plates to the kitchen, knocking any leftovers into the compost bin before setting them on one side of the sink. I took up my post as the dishwasher as everyone filed into the living room to continue their conversation. This was one element of our family dinner that I looked forward to the most—having a task to focus on while I mulled over my thoughts.
“Thank you for dinner,” a voice said from behind me.
I jumped back, my heart lurching into my throat as I spun around to face the person, every part of my body going into overdrive at the unexpected presence of someone behind me.
I relaxed at the sight of Kameron holding the rest of the dirty dishes, pressing a hand to my chest to calm my racing heart.
“Sorry, you startled me.”
“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”
I forced a smile as best I could and turned back towards the sink, finishing rinsing the plate I’d been holding. Kameron came to stand beside me, laying the dirty dishes down on my side of the sink and rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows.
“You rinse, and I’ll load them into the dishwasher,” he said, gesturing for me to hand him the clean plate.
I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head.
“You cooked. It’s only fair we help clean,” Kam said, jerking his head toward the dining room table, where the others had finished clearing the table before taking their seats on the couch.
We fell into a comfortable silence. The repetitive action of scrubbing each plate, followed by a quick rinse, and the handoff to Kameron, was soothing in a weird, domestic way that was foreign to me.
