The sound came just after dark.
First, I heard the engine.
Then the familiar rumble of Alden's pickup moving up the gravel road.
I stood beside the kitchen window.
His headlights swept across the front pasture.
They moved over the old fence posts and stopped briefly on the gate.
Then the truck pulled into the driveway.
I watched him climb out.
He stretched his back and looked toward the house.
He was smiling.
That smile disappeared for a moment when he noticed the lights across the road at the Yoder property.
Miriam's boys had been working late.
Their truck was parked near the field.
Alden stared at it.
Then he shook his head.
I heard his boots on the porch.
The door opened.
"Joanne! I'm home!"
I walked into the kitchen.
"Welcome home."
He dropped his travel bag beside the chair.
"What's for supper?"
"Chicken and dumplings."
His face brightened.
"Now that's what I'm talking about."
He washed his hands and sat down.
I brought the pot to the table.
He served himself a large bowl.
For a few minutes, everything looked ordinary.
He ate.
I poured coffee.
He complained about traffic near Albuquerque.
He talked about a driver who had been late at a loading dock.
I listened.
Then he glanced through the window.
"What are those Yoders doing over there?"
I put down my cup.
"Working on the fence."
He stopped chewing.
"What fence?"
"The fence along the front pasture."
He stared at me.
"Why?"
"Because we're getting the pasture ready for their goats."
He slowly put down his spoon.
"Who's getting it ready?"
"Miriam's boys."
He looked at me as if he hadn't heard correctly.
"Joanne, what are you talking about?"
I kept my voice calm.
"Miriam and I discussed renting the pasture."
His face changed.
"Renting?"
"Yes."
"Who told you that you could rent my pasture?"
I looked at him.
There it was.
The same phrase.
My pasture.
I folded my napkin.
"It's my property, Alden."
He gave a short laugh.
"Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything."
"You can't just let people put goats on my land."
I looked toward the window.
The fence posts were visible beneath the porch light.
"They won't be on your land."
He pushed his chair back.
"Joanne, I have been telling you for years that field is not for rent."
"I know."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"Because I decided to."
He stared at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he laughed again.
It wasn't the happy laugh from the night he waved his paycheck at me.
This one sounded uncertain.
"You've been talking to Miriam behind my back?"
"I talked to her across the road."
"That's not what I asked."
I took a breath.
"Yes, Alden. I discussed the rental with her."
He stood up.
"Well, you're going to tell them to stop."
I remained seated.
"No."
One word.
Nothing more.
He looked at me.
I could see him trying to understand whether I had really said it.
"What?"
"I said no."
His face turned red.
He walked toward the kitchen window.
He looked out at the pasture again.
Then he turned around.
"Who gave you permission to make that decision?"
I looked directly at him.
"My father left me that property."
He shook his head.
"We've been married forty-five years."
"I know."
"We built our life here."
"I know that too."
"Then you don't get to act like I'm some stranger."
I felt a sadness I hadn't expected.
Because he was right about one thing.
He wasn't a stranger.
He was my husband.
But being married to me didn't make every decision his.
I stood up and carried my bowl to the sink.
"I didn't say you were a stranger."
"Then stop treating me like one."
I turned on the water.
The sound filled the kitchen.
Behind me, he continued talking.
He said the Yoders had been waiting for an opportunity.
He said Miriam was taking advantage of me.
He said her children had no business touching the fence.
He even suggested that they had been planning this for years.
I dried my hands.
"They've asked about renting that pasture for three years. You refused every time."
"Because I didn't want goats out there."
"I remember."
"And now suddenly you do?"
"Yes."
He looked at me.
"Why?"
I almost told him everything.
The bank account.
The pension.
The new deposit information.
The deed.
But I stopped.
I wanted him to understand that the pasture wasn't the only thing he had taken for granted.
I wanted him to think about the paycheck he had waved in my face.
Instead, I walked to the drawer and took out the certified deed.
I placed it on the kitchen table.
He looked down.
"What is that?"
"My property deed."
He didn't touch it.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you seem to have forgotten whose name is on it."
He picked up the paper.
His eyes moved over the first page.
Then the second.
I watched his expression change.
He looked at the date.
He looked at the property description.
Then he looked at my name.
"Where did you get this?"
"At the courthouse."
He lowered the paper.
"You went to the courthouse?"
"Yes."
"Without telling me?"
I nodded.
He stared at me.
I could see the anger building.
But underneath it, I noticed something else.
He was confused.
For years, he had spoken about the property as if it belonged to him.
He had done it so often that perhaps he had forgotten there was an actual document proving otherwise.
He put the deed down.
"This doesn't change anything."
"It changes who owns the land."
He rubbed his forehead.
Then he looked at the food on the table.
His bowl was still half full.
"Can we talk about this tomorrow?"
I looked at him.
"We've had forty-five years to talk about it."
He didn't answer.
I went upstairs.
Behind me, I heard him move his chair.
Then I heard the television turn on.
The blue-rimmed plate remained on the table.
And for the first time in many years, Alden went to bed without getting the final word.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Next Morning He Demanded an Explanation About the Bank, but I Finally Asked Him Where My Retirement Money Had Gone
My Pension Disappeared Before Breakfast, and the Woman at the Bank Told Me Something I Never Expected to Hear
Part 6 of 20
