The middle of September brought on a do-or-die period for the crops. Mark and I had worked every day, managing to cover almost three acres, but we needed to re-walk what had already been picked. Impossible at best.
My alarm went off early on a Saturday morning. I crawled out of bed and headed to Mark’s room. Bam, bam, bam. The door swung open.
Already gone. I huffed and went back to my room to get dressed.
When I walked in the barn, Old Dog was lying on the floor with his ears curled by his paws. Pathetic eyes glanced up at me. He scrambled to stand.
“Ba-woo, ba-woo!”
I patted his head. “Good morning, you old thing.”
As I headed outside, he followed right behind me. The morning felt pleasant and cool, inviting in the autumn air. After a few minutes, I stopped and listened to a mockingbird singing high in the trees. I imagined how proud the bird was of himself for mimicking everything from a doorbell to a cricket. I returned to picking, satisfied with my solitude. Mark could stay gone as long as he wanted.
About an hour later, I heard a car in the distance. I looked up at the house from the far end of the field. Mark. About time.
I turned around and grabbed a red pepper. Another distant rumble. I squinted, unable to place the sound. Old man Cramer must’ve been chopping wood.
I loaded my hands with red peppers and stuffed them inside my sack. Repeating the process, I topped off my bag and scanned the rows for any misses. Damn. I’d missed a lot. At least my sack was full. It didn’t matter as long as I had a full sack.
Voices in the distance floated in the breeze. I looked at the backyard and gasped.
Mark, Ruby, Mr. and Mrs. McAllister, Emma, Pastor Larry and his wife Sue – they were all headed my way with a crowd of faces behind them that I didn’t recognize. All of them were walking toward the field, carrying various kinds of bags, like they were here on a mission.
I wanted to shout and jump as I ran down the row to meet everyone. Then, I saw Woodrow at the back of the pack, limping along. Oh my gosh... even Woodrow?
I ran to Mark and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” I said in his ear.
He quickly returned my embrace and let go.
“All right, all right,” he huffed, pushing me away. “It’s no big deal.”
“Are you kidding? We’re killing ourselves here. This is amazing!”
I gave Ruby a hug and then Emma.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said to Emma.
“Girl, you know I’d never miss helpin’ y’all.”
“Now, we got all the people we could gather,” Ruby said. “Let’s get this harvest finished. You’ve done a fine job, but it’s time for some help.”
“Thank you!” I turned to Mark. “You lead ’em.”
“Let’s do this!” He clapped his hands like we were hitting the football field.
Mark separated people to cover three rows on either side of them. Emma and I went to our designated areas with Old Dog close behind. A dark-haired guy named Steve and another lanky man named Josh, parked two full-sized pickups by the field for us to empty our sacks into. Mark pulled our truck up behind theirs, giving us three means of transportation for hauling to the processing plant. Everyone fell into place with Mark’s instructions, surrendering their Saturday afternoon to help my family.
As the morning moved on, people rotated back and forth from the field to the trucks, filling and dumping their sacks. I was bent down, picking an armful, when I heard someone walk up behind me.
“How’s it going?” Mom asked.
I beamed a smile over my shoulder. “Look at how much we’ve gotten done. That guy over there,” I pointed, “he’s going to take a load to the plant soon, and we still have all day. Can you believe all these people are doing this for us? I don’t know half of them.”
“Your dad does,” she said. “Mark went to Ruby’s and told her what was going on. Between the two of them, they rounded up half of Morris Chapel, a few from Saltillo and Savannah. I believe that couple over there live in Adamsville.” She shook her head. “People never cease to amaze me.”
“I can’t imagine what Dad would have thought. Look at how they love him.”
“He would be very humbled to see this.”
I wrapped my arms around her. She clutched me tight.
“Mom, it’s going to happen,” I said. “We’re going to get these crops out.”
“Thank you, Elsie. Thank you for everything.”
Her gratitude meant the world to me. She let me go, and then she grabbed my empty sack, pulling it over her shoulder.
“Have you told Dad about this yet?” I asked.
“No, he’s been sleeping most of the morning.”
“Can I? I can’t wait to tell him what Mark did.”
“Of course.” She gave me a loving smile. “You’ve done this, too.”
Tears filled my eyes. We’d fulfilled our promise. That was all that mattered.
After lunch a few people had to leave, but we still had twelve helpers to keep us going until six that night. Each truck made five trips, giving Mom fifteen loads. On top of it, Mark had another load he could deliver on Monday, and if the weather held, we could still harvest some more. Kind souls from three counties. Maybe they did have a soft heart for outsiders... The strange Northerners who’d gotten lost. But they’d found a good ole Yankee in Dad, falling in love with him despite of where he came from.
After the last car pulled away, I ran inside to tell him. Pulling a chair next to his bed, I grasped his hand and replayed every detail. From Old Dog finding me, to the townspeople rallying to support him, to the amount of money we earned.
As I recounted everyone’s generosity, he struggled to keep his eyes open, but when I said, “Everyone loves you, Dad. You’re such a good man.” He undeniably squeezed my fingers.
After his unexpected response, I let my tears flow. He was proud. But I wanted him to see what we’d done. I wanted him to feel it like I did. I wanted him to get out of bed and walk the field with me. Bittersweet victory.
“I love you so much,” I whispered.
I sat there a bit longer, and then Mom came in after she’d taken a shower. I was ready to clean up, too, so we switched, and I headed to the bathroom.
After I crawled in bed, I opened up Tyler’s journal.
August 14 - How am I ever going to leave her? I can’t. I’m irrational. I want to skip next semester. I want to say fuck it, and not go. Wouldn’t that be stupid? I’ll just throw away everything to stay in a town I can’t stand. Nana’s crazy. The dementia is worse than Mom and Dad want to admit. The other night, she forgot about the chicken breasts on the stove, and the pan scorched. I cleaned it up. She didn’t even seem to care that dinner was ruined. Oh well. I’ll tell Dad again, but he seems to be oblivious. I hope it isn’t because of Alexis. When I took Elsie to my house, I noticed he didn’t go back to Memphis when we left the Country Club. He turned down the side street toward Alexis’ house. Mom asked me about it. I couldn’t tell her. I’ll talk to Dad later, but seriously, if he’s fucking around, I’m gonna be pissed. I get that he’s 43, and probably bored to death, but cheating isn’t cool. Hell, he’s the one who taught me that! Ugh. Just another thing I need to deal with. Nana having me followed is enough. I still have to go talk to my uncle. There goes my checking account.
August 16 - The shower’s running and I need to get in. I’ve never fucked up so bad. Elsie and I had three days... Three days that I couldn’t wait to spend with her. They’re shot. I blew it. How can I ever tell her how much I love her? She doesn’t know the half of how fucked up I am. I couldn’t tell her. I tried... I tried to tell her about Grandpa, but the words... I couldn’t say them without breaking down. Crying in front of her? That’s worse torture than my nightmares. I would’ve been a blubbering mess. She has to understand I’m not violent. I only beat Bobby’s ass because he had his hands on her. I tried to walk away. I’d grabbed her hand, her warm and comforting hand, and then the next thing I knew, I was rolling across the gravel again. All I wanted was to get her out of there. To leave. Fuckin’ scumbag. I hate Bobby Dale.
I gotta get out of here. I have less than seven hours. Fuck! What can I give her? My cologne. No. That’s stupid. A photo. Wow, that’s even dumber. She can draw me from memory. I’ll write her a letter... I don’t have time for that. But. Wait. I could give her this. It’s everything I tried to say, but couldn’t.
His last words were scribbled across the page in black ink.
Elsie,
We’re all at the mercy of circumstance.
I love what we’ve made of ours.
Please, don’t give up, hold on to what I’ve said,
And please, wait for me.
I love you.
Tyler
I closed the journal and texted him.
Me: I finished reading :) Thank you.
Several minutes later...
Tyler: All good?
Me: More than I can say. I miss you.
Tyler: That’s a relief. I miss you, too. Love you.
Me: I love you, too.