Saturday morning was quiet.
Alden had gone to the hardware store.
I was cleaning the kitchen when I opened the drawer beneath the old telephone.
There were rubber bands, spare batteries, a few pens, and an envelope filled with photographs.
I hadn't looked through them in years.
I pulled the envelope out.
The first picture showed me and my mother standing beside the Christmas tree.
The second showed Alden and me on our wedding day.
We looked so young.
I almost didn't recognize myself.
I moved to the next photograph.
Daddy.
He was standing in front of the farmhouse.
One hand rested on the fence.
The other held his old work hat.
I sat down.
I remembered that day.
It was sometime in the spring of 1981.
Daddy had been getting weaker.
He knew it.
I knew it.
But neither of us wanted to talk about it.
He had taken me outside that afternoon.
We walked along the fence line.
I was twenty-three.
I had recently become engaged to Alden.
Daddy liked him well enough.
But he had always been protective of me.
He stopped near the front pasture.
"Joanne, this place is going to be yours."
I laughed.
"Daddy, don't talk like that."
He looked at me.
"I'm serious."
He told me he wanted the farmhouse and the forty acres to remain mine.
He said he had worked too hard to keep the property for it to become something I could lose because of a bad argument or a bad decision.
At the time, I thought he was being dramatic.
I was young.
I was in love.
I believed marriage meant two people would always protect each other.
I told him Alden would never do anything to hurt me.
Daddy didn't argue.
He only nodded.
Then he said something I had forgotten.
"Love somebody all you want, sweetheart. Just don't give away the part of yourself that keeps you standing."
I sat at the kitchen table holding the photograph.
My eyes filled.
I wished I could talk to him.
I wished I could tell him how much I had misunderstood.
Alden returned around noon.
He came into the kitchen carrying a bag from the hardware store.
He saw the photograph.
"What's that?"
"Daddy."
He glanced at it.
"That's an old one."
"Yes."
He put the bag down.
Then he noticed the envelope.
"What are you doing with all those?"
"Looking through them."
He shrugged.
Then he opened the refrigerator.
I watched him.
For years, I had believed that our marriage had simply settled into its own arrangement.
He handled the finances.
I handled the house.
He made the big decisions.
I made the smaller ones.
I thought that was how we had divided responsibilities.
But there had never been a conversation where I had agreed to give up my voice.
It had happened gradually.
And I had allowed it.
That afternoon, I drove into town to pick up a few groceries.
I stopped at the bank.
I wanted to make sure the new account information was still correct.
The same young teller helped me.
She recognized me.
"Good afternoon, Miss Joanne."
"Afternoon."
I explained that I wanted to confirm the status of my account.
She checked the information.
Then she told me the new account was active.
The pension deposit was scheduled to arrive there.
I thanked her.
Before leaving, I asked whether I could get a printed statement.
She provided one.
I folded it carefully and placed it in my purse.
I wasn't going to let important information live only on a phone anymore.
When I returned home, I found Alden in the garage.
He was sitting on the riding mower.
He had cleaned it.
The yellow paint looked bright under the garage light.
He was checking something near the front wheel.
I stood in the doorway.
"That machine still running well?"
He smiled slightly.
"Runs like a dream."
I nodded.
I remembered the price.
Twelve thousand eight hundred dollars.
I remembered the six weeks without hot water.
I didn't mention either one.
I went inside.
Later that evening, I received another call from Miriam.
She wanted to discuss the next month's rental payment.
We agreed on the date.
She also told me the goats were settling in nicely.
"They seem to like your grass."
I smiled.
"Good."
Then she asked whether I needed anything.
I told her I was fine.
Before hanging up, she said something that stayed with me.
"You know, Joanne, you don't have to apologize for making a sensible decision."
I thanked her.
Then I sat by the kitchen window.
Alden was outside.
He was walking around the mower.
He stopped near the pasture and looked toward the goats.
I wondered whether he remembered Daddy.
I wondered whether he remembered the day we moved into the farmhouse.
I wondered whether he had ever truly understood that this place had been mine before it became our home.
That night, I put the photograph back into the envelope.
But I didn't put the envelope away.
I placed it on the kitchen shelf beside the family calendar.
I wanted to see Daddy's face every morning.
I wanted to remember what he had told me.
And I wanted to stop feeling guilty for believing him.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: The Pension Office Sent Me a Confirmation Letter, but Alden Still Refused to Explain Why He Had Moved My Money
My Pension Disappeared Before Breakfast, and the Woman at the Bank Told Me Something I Never Expected to Hear
Part 11 of 20
