Page 32 of Grounded
“Unless it’s mealtime. Then there’s no better place to be than Beulah’s table,” Jake said.
Annie sighed. “I’m going to have to do something about her bedroom. That couch is hard as a stone bench. And how has she climbed those stairs all this time?”
“She’s tough.”
“And stubborn.”
“Reminds me of someone else.”
“And who are you referring to?” Annie asked in mock sarcasm.
“Not many girls from Somerville have headed off to New York City after college. That takes guts and a strong will. I always admired that in you.”
Annie soaked in his words and enjoyed the warmth it gave her.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “But I never looked at it that way. After college, I wanted a new start, away from everybody knowing my business. New York was the total opposite of Somerville.”
In the easy silence between them, Annie rubbed her hands together, feeling the blisters below her fingers on the palm of her hands. Tenderly, she felt each one and thought about the hard work she had done today.
“So when are you hoping to make a decision about your future?” Annie asked.
“Hopefully by midsummer. If I decide to leave the bank, I want to give them as much notice as possible.”
“Haven’t you already decided to leave the bank by turning down the CEO track?”
“Not exactly. They’ve offered me a job with their foundation and I guess that’s somewhat attractive.”
“And where would you live if you moved back here?” Annie asked, wanting to know all the details of Jake’s plans, maybe if only to make sure he had thought of everything.
“Probably the guesthouse. When Suzanne comes back to visit with the kids, she likes to stay in the house with Mom anyway so it’s not used all that often. Then I can tramp mud all over the floor and not worry about Mom’s garden club luncheons or whatever else she might be doing.”
The guesthouse was a separate structure on the Wilder farm, built for servants in the late eighteen hundreds. Evelyn had remodeled it, adding a kitchenette and bathroom for her family to use when they visited from Lexington.
Annie had to ask him the question that had been on her mind since they talked that morning. “Jake, what is it about farming that you’re so passionate about? It’s hard work for a fraction of what you make in banking. I know how city people can idealize it, but you and I both know it can be a hard way to live.”
She studied his face, dimly lit from the barn’s security light, his brow furrowed, his eyes intense.
“Camille’s dad invited me to tour one of his convention hotels in downtown Cincinnati a few months ago. When we got to the kitchen, he asked the chef to show me around while he returned a phone call. There was this huge walk-in freezer full of frozen meat, any way you like it, cooked, breaded and seasoned. Frozen vegetables ready-mixed with sauces. Outside the freezer were massive cans of processed cheese and other sauces to make up for the lack of flavor in the meat. In that moment, it was like all the dots connected for me. Everything I’d been reading about caring for the land and our food production from Wendell Berry to Michael Pollan all made sense. Farming has been reduced to ruining the land, the animals, and the produce in order to mass produce cheap food that is ruining our bodies.” He took a deep breath. “I want to change that, Annie. Even if I don’t do it full time, I want to start making a change on our farm. To start stewarding the resources God gave us the way they’re meant to be.”
The passion in his voice, no—his whole body—convinced Annie. Jake needed to do this thing, no matter the cost.
“Then you should do it. If you feel that way about it, you should do it no matter what it takes.”
He looked at her then as if she had handed him a bar of gold straight from Fort Knox.
“Do you really think so?”
She nodded. “I’m just jealous that I don’t feel that passionate about anything. I wish I did.”
“Don’t wish for it. It’s made me miserable a few times this past year. I keep thinking I’m crazy for wanting to leave a great job, and nobody around me gets it. I can’t tell you what it means to hear you say that.”
“I do get it,” she said. “And I wouldn’t mind reading some of those books if you can give me some recommendations.”
He laughed. “I can do better than that,” he said, jumping off the post. “I’ll bring you my copies when I go back to Cincinnati.”
He held his arms out to help her down from her perch. “If you need help moving Beulah’s bed downstairs, I’ll be glad to lend a hand before I leave tomorrow.”
When Annie lay in bed that night, the last thing she saw before falling asleep was her grandmother’s twisted and pale face as she fell.
