fifty-eight. I was eighteen years old. And so in love.”
Wow. In Rachel’s whole life, she’d never heard Edna talk about being in love. It shook her a bit. Perhaps because…well, she’d never been in love. And Edna had known what it felt like at eighteen? Although Rachel had never aspired to all that traditional love-and-marriage stuff, for some reason, it almost made her a little envious.
“With Grandpa Farris,” Rachel chimed in, feeling wistful herself now.
So when Edna said, “No, with Giovanni Romo,” Rachel nearly fell off her ladder.
She turned her head. Stared. “Wait. Who?”
Edna tossed her a sly glance. “You heard me.”
Rachel barely knew what to say. Edna had never mentioned any man but her late husband, Edward Farris, who’d died when Rachel was fifteen. But as she caught her breath, she had a feeling this was a good time to ask, “Um, how exactly did our feud with the Romo family start?”
Edna resumed picking apples and said, “You never heard this story, huh?”
“No. By the time I was old enough to wonder, I’d moved away. And I once asked Mom, but she didn’t really know, either.”
“Well, let me start by sayin’—it wasn’t entirely my fault. But the Romos never quite saw it that way.”
“Let’s try here.”
Edna’s older brother, Dell, pointed at the silver mailbox sitting on a wooden post at the end of a pretty little lane. Staring back through the trees, she could see the path led across a creek to a little white house. They’d walked at least a mile since their truck had broken down and this was the first home they’d come to, so it seemed the obvious place to look for some help.
Her other brother, Wally, spit on the ground, then stuck his thumbs in his suspenders to hitch up his overalls, before he said, “Destiny my ass.”
“Don’t cuss, Wally,” Edna scolded him, but his scowl told her it was the wrong time for scolding. And she couldn’t blame him. They were all in bad moods for lots of good reasons.
The three of them had driven the old family truck up from Kentucky looking for work. It was that or send the boys to the coal mines now that they were of age, andDaddy wouldn’t hear of that. But there were five more children at home and not enough money to keep everybody fed come winter—let alone get shoes for school. So they’d decided Dell, twenty-one, and Wally, nineteen, ought to strike out for Ohio and see if anybody needed farm hands. Edna had decided to come, too, claiming she could hoe a row or dig up taters or shuck corn as good as any boy—and besides, she’d never been more than twenty miles from the farm. So it had seemed like an adventure. And when they’d passed by a sign telling them they were in a place called Destiny, well, it had felt a little magical. “Here,” she’d said. “Here’s where we’ll find what we’re lookin’ for.”
That had been about two minutes before the truck sputtered and died. And about an hour after the last time they’d been turned down for work. They’d stopped at farms and in towns, at produce stands and even churches, all the way from the Ohio River north, with no luck. “Told ya we shoulda gone to Cincinnati,” Wally said as they crossed the bridge on foot. “We coulda got work there for sure.”
“Mama didn’t want us in the city,” Edna reminded him.
“Well, Mama ain’t the one tryin’ to put food on the table right now, is she?” he snapped, and Edna ignored him, peering down at the pretty stream below, at the water rolling gently over the stones, washing them clean. It was a peaceful sight, and frankly, she could use a little peace after Lord knew how many hours in a truck with Wally.
The bridge led to what Edna thought was the prettiest little farm she’d ever seen. The white house had fancy carved trim all around the front porch and gable, and the drive led farther back to a bright red barn. A small grove of apple trees set across the lane, and behind the house was a
Wow. In Rachel’s whole life, she’d never heard Edna talk about being in love. It shook her a bit. Perhaps because…well, she’d never been in love. And Edna had known what it felt like at eighteen? Although Rachel had never aspired to all that traditional love-and-marriage stuff, for some reason, it almost made her a little envious.
“With Grandpa Farris,” Rachel chimed in, feeling wistful herself now.
So when Edna said, “No, with Giovanni Romo,” Rachel nearly fell off her ladder.
She turned her head. Stared. “Wait. Who?”
Edna tossed her a sly glance. “You heard me.”
Rachel barely knew what to say. Edna had never mentioned any man but her late husband, Edward Farris, who’d died when Rachel was fifteen. But as she caught her breath, she had a feeling this was a good time to ask, “Um, how exactly did our feud with the Romo family start?”
Edna resumed picking apples and said, “You never heard this story, huh?”
“No. By the time I was old enough to wonder, I’d moved away. And I once asked Mom, but she didn’t really know, either.”
“Well, let me start by sayin’—it wasn’t entirely my fault. But the Romos never quite saw it that way.”
“Let’s try here.”
Edna’s older brother, Dell, pointed at the silver mailbox sitting on a wooden post at the end of a pretty little lane. Staring back through the trees, she could see the path led across a creek to a little white house. They’d walked at least a mile since their truck had broken down and this was the first home they’d come to, so it seemed the obvious place to look for some help.
Her other brother, Wally, spit on the ground, then stuck his thumbs in his suspenders to hitch up his overalls, before he said, “Destiny my ass.”
“Don’t cuss, Wally,” Edna scolded him, but his scowl told her it was the wrong time for scolding. And she couldn’t blame him. They were all in bad moods for lots of good reasons.
The three of them had driven the old family truck up from Kentucky looking for work. It was that or send the boys to the coal mines now that they were of age, andDaddy wouldn’t hear of that. But there were five more children at home and not enough money to keep everybody fed come winter—let alone get shoes for school. So they’d decided Dell, twenty-one, and Wally, nineteen, ought to strike out for Ohio and see if anybody needed farm hands. Edna had decided to come, too, claiming she could hoe a row or dig up taters or shuck corn as good as any boy—and besides, she’d never been more than twenty miles from the farm. So it had seemed like an adventure. And when they’d passed by a sign telling them they were in a place called Destiny, well, it had felt a little magical. “Here,” she’d said. “Here’s where we’ll find what we’re lookin’ for.”
That had been about two minutes before the truck sputtered and died. And about an hour after the last time they’d been turned down for work. They’d stopped at farms and in towns, at produce stands and even churches, all the way from the Ohio River north, with no luck. “Told ya we shoulda gone to Cincinnati,” Wally said as they crossed the bridge on foot. “We coulda got work there for sure.”
“Mama didn’t want us in the city,” Edna reminded him.
“Well, Mama ain’t the one tryin’ to put food on the table right now, is she?” he snapped, and Edna ignored him, peering down at the pretty stream below, at the water rolling gently over the stones, washing them clean. It was a peaceful sight, and frankly, she could use a little peace after Lord knew how many hours in a truck with Wally.
The bridge led to what Edna thought was the prettiest little farm she’d ever seen. The white house had fancy carved trim all around the front porch and gable, and the drive led farther back to a bright red barn. A small grove of apple trees set across the lane, and behind the house was a
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