As I arrived at the farm, Minnie was pulling a large metal trough out from a shed. I hopped out of the jeep and hurried over to help her. She was doing pretty well on her own, considering, but was happy for my assistance. We took the trough out. The sun reflected off its silver sides. Other than a myriad of cobwebs and what looked to be the very, very old carcass of a mouse, it was in great shape.
Minnie took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from her forehead. The air was chilly, but the physical task had made her breathless and sweaty.
"Please, Minnie, let me take you inside. Get you a glass of water. I'd feel much better if you'd sit down for a few minutes."
"I suppose a glass of water would do me good. It is awfully hot out here under the sun." It was anything but hot outside. I led her slowly back to the house. The sheep were quite disappointed that the big silver trough hadn't been for them. They made a chorus of complaints as we returned to the house.
"What do you think of the trough?" Minnie was having a hard time catching her breath. We slowed our pace. She was strong enough physically to still run a farm, but her heart couldn't keep up with the rest of her. It was a terrible fate to be strong yet one step from death's door.
"It's nice. I'm sure Jackson will want it, but he'll have to drive out here with the truck. It's too big for my jeep."
Minnie glanced toward the road. "Oh, I thought you came out here to fetch the trough."
"No, I had something else to ask you. Let's get you inside first." I was rethinking the whole idea for my story. I wasn't sure if Minnie was going to have the energy for it.
We reached the steps up to the house. Minnie stared at them as if looking up Mount Everest. "I can remember when I used to spring up and down these steps taking two at a time." It was the first time I'd heard sadness, surrender in her tone. And that was saying something considering how her week had begun, with the death of her only sister.
Minnie looked over at me and took my arm. "Let's climb this hill."
We started up the steps, stopping on each one until she caught her breath. I breathed my own sigh of relief when we reached the door. I opened it and Minnie shuffled in ahead of me.
"Please, excuse the mess. I've been going through some old things, trying to get rid of stuff I don't need." The coffee table was filled with papers, letters and old postcards. Minnie tried to pile some of the things.
"Don't go to any trouble on my account, Minnie. Let's get you that glass of water." As I spoke, I realized I'd lost my audience.
Minnie was staring at an old postcard. Her eyes were watery.
"Minnie?" I asked. "Everything all right?"
"Huh?" She looked up stunned, almost as if she'd forgotten I was standing there. She briskly swiped at her eyes and sniffled. "Oh, I'm fine." She held up the postcard. The front was a picture of a beach, possibly in Florida given all the palm trees and blue skies. "It's a postcard from Vernon, after he moved away."
"Vernon was the man you planned to marry."
"Yes," she said, again with sadness. "I don't know why I pulled all these cards and letters out. I suppose I just want to take some of the memories with me—you know—when my time comes."
We walked into the kitchen. There were no smelly vats of dye today, and the stove was clear of oversized pots. I filled a glass with water as Minnie sat down.
"Thank you, dear. I'll be fine as soon as I get my breath back." Minnie took some sips of water. "Please, sit and tell me why you came out here."
"I wanted to ask you something, but please, feel free to tell me no. I won't be the least bit hurt."
"My, my, is this about the trough? If you don't need it, I'm sure I can find someone else to take it."
"No, it's not about that. I'm sure Jackson would like to have it. I was writing a story for the Junction Times. It was about the anniversary celebration at the hotel. But since—" I realized how awkward the conversation was once I got into it. Then again, Minnie didn't seem too broken up about her sister, so maybe it was all right to continue. "Obviously, there is no celebration anymore. I was hoping I could do a story about you."
She smiled. It was the first I'd seen since I arrived. It seemed the letters and postcards were the true source of her unusually sad mood. "Me? What could you possibly write about me? No one ever notices me. It was Donna who won awards and got her picture in the paper when a new restaurant opened up. I'm just always covered in dirt, wool and plant dye."
"Plant dye," I muttered aloud but hadn't meant to. Minnie was always covered in plant dye. I tucked that away for now. I wished I hadn't needed to tuck it away. It wasn't something I wanted to consider. "I'd like to write about the whole process from sheep to scarf. But if it's too much for you then I understand."
"I think that would be wonderful." The idea had really brightened her mood.
"You're sure? Maybe I should give you time to think about it."
"Nonsense. I've made up my mind. Later this evening, my friend Dee Dee is coming over for some knitting. We're going to bake cupcakes. Why don't you come by? Dee Dee knows almost as much about wool as me. She could help fill in details." She clapped once. "I can't believe I'm going to be in the paper and the Junction Times no less. I'll call Dee Dee right now to let her know."
I hadn't given her an answer, but I hated to burst her bubble now. It seemed I had some plans for the night. "Great. Is seven good? I'll bring the truck so I can pick up the trough."
"Wonderful," Minnie said. "I can't wait."
I headed back to the jeep. She'd been in a more sullen mood than usual, but I'd left her in bright spirits. I wasn't sure if her earlier mood had to do with the letters and postcards or not. One thing seemed certain—her sister's death was already a forgotten memory. It was strange, but I didn't want to think about Minnie as a possible suspect. She was just too sweet.
She'd lived under the heavy hand of her sister for years. She even lost the love of her life because of Donna. Aside from that, Minne was already close to the end of her life. She needed to spend the rest of her days free and happy.