CHAPTER 40

Halfway across the orchard on my way home, I spied Granddaddy coming to fetch me. He turned around when we got to him, and we walked in silence the first few minutes. But eventually, I couldn’t hold in my words any longer. “I can’t say goodbye to Buster, Granddaddy. Can you tell Daddy there’s a better way? Please?”

I heard him take a deep breath before responding. “Pixie, I’ve been on a farm my whole life. I can’t even count how many animals I seen go to market. Remember us talking about that circle of life? That’s just the way it is on a farm.”

“But why? Why does it have to be that way?” I stopped walking.

He turned to face me. “Buster’s a lamb—and lambs go to market ’round here. Doubt if that’s ever gonna change. But I guess the decision you might have to make is how you want to let him go.”

“What does that mean?”

“Pixie, when it’s time for something or someone to leave us—and there’s nothing we can do about it—we have a decision to make. We can cling to it and make it as hard as possible to push on, or we can open our arms and let it go. It still hurts, but letting go leaves fewer scars.”

“I don’t think I’m brave enough to let Buster go, Granddaddy.”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Hmm . . . didn’t somebody help write a speech not long ago where they talked about fear and heroes?”

“Yeah—but that wasn’t about me being a hero.”

“What was that one part about how being brave is in everybody?” Granddaddy winked at me.

I shook my head. “I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do. I saw your lips moving along with every word Berta spoke that night. Something about being brave inside?”

I breathed in, but the words weren’t easy to let out. “The power . . . to be brave . . . also lives in me and you.”

Granddaddy took my hand. “Wise words from a brave young lady.”

But I wasn’t so sure.

Maybe words are just funny that way—it’s easier to write them than it is to live them.