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When it finally happened, I’d taken her out on the pink tractor, which had become an icon for the farm. It was sunset on one of the last days of summer, and she sat in my lap, leaning back into me lazily as we puttered up one of the higher pasture hills. From up there, you could see the ocean in the distance stretching to the horizon, the mountains on either side of us cradling our valley. I’d gotten down first, and when she’d stepped to the edge to jump down, I was on my knee with an open velvet box in my hand.
As predicted, she hadn’t seen it coming.
The farm thrived under our watch and with the help of the Patton money. Our debts had been paid, our finances free and clear for the first time in a decade. Home deliveries had become our biggest earner, followed closely by tours and the shop, of course. James Patton had kept his promise to stay in Washington, and Chase had become an unexpected ally.
He stood on the other side of the dance floor mirroring me. When he raised his glass in my direction, I did the same, and we took a drink of camaraderie.
I never thought I’d see the day when I shook hands with a Patton. And this was definitely the first Brent wedding a Patton had attended in a hundred and twenty-five years.
We’d even made the ice cream flavor together like he and Olivia had talked about—Peace Treaty. It was a creamy strawberry (Olivia) fudge (Chase) swirl mixed with salted caramel chunks (me), and we couldn’t keep it in stock. With Chase in charge of the Patton farm, things around town had changed. For the first time in more than a century, we were equals, working in harmony, the feud finally put to bed by the generation with sense.
The only thing missing was Frank.
His absence had been felt more in the last few weeks than ever, especially today. Not long after we were engaged, I officially moved into the big house, and in the process, Olivia found Pop’s letter on my dresser in the same spot it’d been in since I’d received it. To no one’s surprise, she convinced me it was time, handing it to me before leaving me in my room alone.
I read it so many times, I knew it by heart.
Jake,
I’m sorry.
The last thing I ever wanted was to leave you with the farm in the state it’s in, but if this letter is in your hands, I’ve failed. I know you must be surprised that I’d leave you half of all of this, but I hope you’ll hear me when I say that this place is yours just as much as it is Olivia’s.
Seven years of my life were spent without a son, raising my only kin—his only child—alone. Every day was a reminder of his absence. Every cricket Livi brought in to show me, every hug with her stringy arms, every little tear I wiped away left me wishing he was there. I thought I’d known loss when Janet died. But nothing can compare to outliving your child.
And then Livi was leaving, headed for a better life than I could give her, and I had to face the prospect of being alone again, more alone than ever. But then you knocked on my door, and I knew just how much we needed each other.
If I know Olivia, she’s going to come in here like a bulldozer, and if I know you, you’ll budge like a brick wall. But she needs you. And I know you don’t want to admit it, but you need her too.
And I need you to take care of each other.
My greatest sadness is the thought of leaving you both alone, and the only comfort I have is knowing you’ll be together. Take care of her, Jake. Take care of yourself and the farm.
If anyone can save it, it’s the two of you.
Know that every time I called you son, it wasn’t an endearment. It was a fact. I am the most fortunate man on earth to have found you, to have helped raise you, to be there for you just like you were so often for me, even when you didn’t know how much you meant to me. I hope that you know how I love you, son. Now go out into the world and do good.
Forever your Pop,
Frank
Truth of it was, this world would never be the same without Frank Brent in it. But there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that today would have made him almost as happy as it made me.
I’d never been so lucky as I’d been since she showed up with those stupid pink suitcases to steal my heart.
At the thought, I tossed back the end of my drink and made my way onto the dance floor as the song changed to a Patsy Cline song. Without a word, I scooped up my bride and spun her away, giving a polite ‘Scuse me to those around her.
