Page 2 of Ginjuh

I just smiled at him.

“I’m fine, damnit.”

“You sure?”

“Said so, didn’t I?” He waved that hand at me again.

I gave him a simple nod, letting him have his dignity.

“You ready to work today?”

“I always am.”

“Well, ain’t got nothin’ for today.” He smiled wickedly. “Guess you runned over here for nothin’, son.”

I frowned. “If you don’t plant soon—”

“Ain’t doin’ the garden this fall, Zach.”

Grandpa wasn’t planting anything for a fall harvest? That in and of itself boggled my mind. Grandpa planted at the end of winter, all through spring, summer, and at the end of summer. Winter was the only season where you wouldn’t find vegetables shooting out of the ground on the acreage around his house. Grandpa was a farmer—if we didn’t plant, I’d have to find other reasons to jog to his house each day so that I could spend time with him and not be obvious about it. First and foremost, and whether it was stupid or not, I wanted to spend time with my grandpa. But guys aren’t supposed to be emotional like that are they? I shook my head, shaking out those toxic thoughts. Grandpa wasn’t an effusive man, and I had been conditioned to not be either, but we both knew deep down what my coming around to his house every day to help him meant to us.

“What…” I looked up at him, trying to find the words, “…I mean, do you need me to come do other things to help out? I mean, this is a lot of land to take care of on your own, grandpa. The house needs a fresh coat of paint, the house is too big for you to clean on your own, and—”

“Well, I think we’ll do a corn maze this year instead.” Grandpa took mercy on me and stopped me mid-ramble. “Instead of planting, I thought maybe I’d see how a corn maze works for Halloween.”

“A corn maze?” I frowned, though I was intrigued. “Why?”

“Well,” he reached up to scratch his chin, “you’ll be going off to college next year, won’tcha? A corn maze might be easier to handle in the fall when I don’t have you around to help out anymore. I’ll still need your help getting paths made through the field.”

He gestured south towards the fields where he planted corn. I glanced over thoughtfully at the acres and acres of browning corn stalks.

“So,” he said, “maybe we’ll try that this year so I’ll know what I’ll be up against next year when you’re gone, son.”

“Won’t you need someone to help again next year if you need my help this year?” I asked. “Broad as it is long, grandpa—planting or making a corn maze.”

“About that.” He rose from his chair with a creak—from his joints or the chair, I wasn’t sure. “I got us some help this fall, Zach. I thought it might be good to see how hiring out some help would go so I’ll know what to expect next year.”

Staring up at my grandpa, I couldn’t help but feel a slurry of emotions flooding my mind. Did grandpa think that I wasn’t up to the challenge so he went and hired an actual farmhand? Some big, strapping guy who could sling a hay bale over each shoulder—not that we were harvesting hay or ever did—and walk two miles without breaking a sweat? Or was he slowly pushing me out of his life since he thought things were headed that way when I went off to college after my senior year? Did my grandpa not need me anymore—or was he trying to convince himself of that? Had I not been good help at the farm since I had been old enough to do manual labor? I took pride in helping my grandpa and I actually loved going to his farm and helping with anything he needed help with, so the thought of some stranger encroaching on that hurt my heart.

“Do—do you still need my help next spring and summer?” I asked, making sure I made eye contact with my grandpa.

“That’s just ridiculous, Zach.” He guffawed. “We’re still gonna have plenty to plant then. You been out here since you was knee high to a grasshopper working this land, son. You ain’t getting’ off that easy.”

I smiled but made sure I didn’t smile too widely. Didn’t want to show too much of my hand, after all.

“I just think that since this is our first year doin’ this, we might want an extra pair of hands helpin’ out is all.” He waved me off. “And it’ll let me know if I know anything about sizin’ up help, ya’ know what I mean.”

I nodded, pretty sure that I understood.

Grandpa wanted to be sure that he could read someone right and know from looking at them and talking to them that they’d make good help on his farm. That way, when I was gone for the bulk of the year, he could trust himself to hire the right guy or guys to fill in.

“I’ve really enjoyed working on the farm for you, Grandpa.” I replied. “I’m sorry I can’t help while I’m at college. I’ll miss…the farm.”

“Well,” Grandpa cleared his throat and looked out towards the fields, “it won’t run as well without ya’, I know that much is sure.”

Grandpa’s farm wasn’t huge, not by farming industry standards. Between Grandpa, his equipment, and myself, we could easily run the place on our own. To be honest, the farm was more of a hobby for him. He always harvested enough just to break even and make a little extra cash—which he didn’t really need. He’d retired from his job in finance in his early fifties with a more than decent pension. Traveling the country in an RV with grandma had been his dream for his golden years. When the cancer took her, farming filled that void. Then, when I got old enough to come help out, I filled another void.

“I’ll have to be over here a lot more in spring and summer, I guess.” I turned to look off towards the fields as well. “We’ll want to make sure that whoever you hire when I go to college can help you keep things going. And Ames isn’t that far away. I can probably come help out on Spring Break and definitely in summer. Maybe even some weekends.”