Chapter 14 - Sarah’s Trees
On the fifth anniversary of Sarah’s death, Thomas asked James to walk with him to the western boundary.
He carried the red folder.
They stopped beneath a cedar that had been no taller than James’s knee when he planted it.
Now it stood above both of them.
Thomas handed him one page from Sarah’s file.
The sketch.
Runoff arrows.
Three circles.
plant something permanent here someday?
“I want you to keep this.”
James took it carefully.
“I still don’t know whether I remembered seeing that before.”
“What?”
“When I was little. Maybe Mom had it on the kitchen table. Maybe I saw it once and forgot.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Does it matter?”
James thought about that.
Maybe not.
He had spent years wanting his idea to belong completely to him because the county had mocked him.
Now he understood ideas rarely grew alone.
Books.
Observations.
His mother watching water.
His father giving him permission.
Conservation nursery forms.
Dr. Sloan’s questions.
Even Ray’s mistakes.
Everything was connected.
Thomas touched the cedar trunk.
“Your mother wanted to plant something here.”
“She wrote a question mark.”
“She usually did that when she already knew what she wanted.”
James smiled.
Then Thomas’s face became serious.
“I owe you an apology too.”
“You already apologized.”
“Not properly.”
James waited.
“I took your notebook because I was scared of what you’d prove.”
Thomas swallowed.
“A father is supposed to want his son to know more than he does. I wanted that until what you knew made me look bad.”
James looked down.
“That wasn’t fair.”
“No.”
“Did you think I’d stop loving you?”
Thomas took too long to answer.
“Yes.”
James looked toward the Hensley field.
Ray’s new grassed waterway curved green across the slope.
“I was angry.”
“I know.”
“I’m still angry about some of it.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t hate you.”
Thomas nodded.
His eyes watered.
James pretended not to notice.
Some mercy should be allowed to keep its dignity.
They planted one more tree beside the cedar.
A white oak.
Not because the farm needed it.
May you like
Because Sarah had once put a question mark on a map.
Sometimes a family earns the right to turn one into an answer.
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