Page 175 of Always Meant for You
“Uh-huh.”
“We should tell your dad. About us.”
I still, the pitcher growing heavier in my hands.
“I know we said we’d wait,” he continues, “but I think it’s time. Maybe after the next farmers’ market.”
“Yeah?” My gaze grows glassy.
“Yeah.” He leans in again, his smile crooked.
“I think my dad will take it well.”
“I do too. Your dad’s always been good to me. He’s a good man, Mabel.”
I glance at the curtains. “He is.”
We watch each other, suspended in the quiet hum between what we are and what we’re becoming.
Duke barks, urging us to get moving, then trots ahead of us, tail swinging.
Cal and I follow.
The group gathers around the picnic table.
Cal sets the tray down and starts placing ice into the glasses.
I pour the tea, then face our guests. “I hope the greenhouse gave you a good sense of what we’re working toward. Now you get to taste a piece of it. This is honey-lavender tea, steeped with herbs we grow here on the farm and sweetened with honey from the Martinez family’s apiary. I’m told their bees favor lilac bushes. You might catch it in the finish. It lingers in the back of your mouth.”
Cal and my father move among the group, offering the glasses one by one.
The governor lifts his cup and takes a measured sip, then hums. “It’s delightful—like everything you’ve kindly shared with us today.”
I catch Cal’s eye.
He knows what I’m thinking and nods.
This is the right time to ask about an idea Cal came up with.
“Sir, we’re delighted you’ve enjoyed Elverna,” I say, topping off his glass. “It’s a place that honors tradition, but we’re alsolooking ahead. And while we’re still ramping up, we don’t want to keep what we’re doing a secret. The community is eager to partner with universities and students who want hands-on experience with organic farming. We want to share what we’ve learned to help communities prosper.”
The governor takes another sip. “I can see the care you’ve put into every step of your process. It’s exactly what our state needs. Forward-thinking, community-rooted work that respects where we’ve come from without being afraid to evolve. I’d be happy to help connect you with the right people. Elverna can become a model for other rural communities.”
“That’s what we’re hoping,” Cal says.
Before the governor can reply, Kenny jogs toward us, panting. Abe follows close behind, his ball cap pushed back, sweat on his brow.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Kenny says, catching his breath. “But the north fence gave way again. We’ve got two dozen cows milling around the County Line Road.”
Cal turns to the governor. “I apologize, sir, but I should help.”
“No apology is necessary, son. I grew up in a rural community. I understand what’s required.” He nods to his staff. “It’s about time we head back.”
“Thank you for visiting,” my father says, shaking the man’s hand. “I should head out with Cal.”
“Understood, Elias. It was a real pleasure. If you ever need any help cutting through governmental red tape, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m giving you my personal line,” the man says, then pulls a card from his breast pocket and hands it to my father.
My dad nods. “Will do.”
