Thursday morning was unusually warm.
I opened the kitchen windows and let the air move through the house.
The curtains lifted slightly.
I could hear the goats in the pasture.
Alden would be home the next evening.
I had spent most of the previous day organizing the paperwork.
Now I wanted to finish the ordinary things around the house.
I washed the kitchen floor.
I cleaned the refrigerator.
I changed the sheets in the bedroom.
I made sure his blue shirt was pressed.
His good jeans were folded on the bed.
His travel bag had been put away.
Everything was ready.
But I wasn't preparing for him the way I used to.
I wasn't checking every room to make sure he wouldn't find something to criticize.
I was simply making my home comfortable.
There was a difference.
Around ten, Miriam came over.
She carried a small container of fresh eggs.
"These are from this morning."
I thanked her.
"You didn't have to bring these."
"I know. I wanted to."
We stood in the kitchen for a while.
She looked at the folder on the table.
"Are you going to show him everything?"
"Yes."
"Even the bank statements?"
"Especially those."
She nodded.
Then she asked whether I had thought about what might happen afterward.
I looked toward the window.
"I've thought about it every day."
"And?"
I took a breath.
"I don't want a fight. I want him to understand that he cannot make decisions about my money and property without me."
Miriam nodded slowly.
"That's fair."
I smiled.
She placed the eggs on the counter.
Then she returned home.
Later that afternoon, I drove to the grocery store.
I bought chicken, celery, carrots, flour, and milk.
I also bought a small container of butter.
Alden liked the dumplings soft.
He always said mine were better than the ones served at the truck stop.
I remembered those comments.
For years, they had made me happy.
I suppose there is nothing wrong with enjoying a compliment from your husband.
The trouble begins when you start believing that a compliment is the same thing as respect.
When I returned, I saw Miriam's boys near the pasture.
They were checking the fence one last time.
I walked over.
"Everything looking good?"
Her oldest son nodded.
"All secure."
He showed me the repaired section.
The wire was tight.
The gate opened and closed properly.
I thanked him.
He smiled.
"No trouble, Miss Joanne."
I watched them load their tools.
Then I looked across the field.
The goats were spread out across the grass.
Daddy's old posts stood along the boundary.
I felt proud of that little piece of land.
Not because it was valuable.
Because it had been part of my life long before Alden arrived.
It had held my childhood.
My father's work.
My mother's garden.
And now it was helping my neighbors.
I went back inside.
That evening, Alden called from Albuquerque.
His voice sounded cheerful.
"Joanne, I'll be home tomorrow."
I was chopping carrots.
"All right."
"Did you get my good jeans ready?"
"Yes."
"And the blue shirt?"
"Ready."
He laughed.
"Good. I have a lodge meeting Saturday."
I continued chopping.
"That's nice."
"What are you making for supper?"
"Chicken and dumplings."
He made a pleased sound.
"Now that's what I wanted to hear."
I smiled.
Then he asked about the pasture.
"Have those goats finally been moved?"
"No."
He sighed.
"Joanne, I don't want to come home and see that mess."
I put the knife down.
"The pasture is being maintained. The fence is repaired, and everything is under the agreement."
He went quiet.
Then he said, "We'll talk when I get there."
"All right."
He ended the call.
I washed the cutting board.
Then I looked at the calendar.
Friday.
I had already decided what I wanted to do.
I wasn't going to argue with him over the phone.
I wasn't going to spend the evening trying to convince him that the deed was real.
He could read it himself.
I finished preparing the vegetables.
Then I placed them in the refrigerator.
I made the dough for the dumplings and covered it.
I washed the mixing bowl.
Before bed, I checked the folder one final time.
Every document was there.
I placed it in the kitchen drawer.
Then I turned off the light.
I lay in bed listening to the wind outside.
Alden would be home tomorrow.
I knew his habits.
He would come through the door asking about supper.
He would want his coffee.
He would talk about the road.
And eventually, he would ask about the goats.
But this time, I wasn't going to let the conversation move away from the important things.
I had spent too many years allowing that to happen.
I closed my eyes.
For once, I slept peacefully.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: His Big Rig Finally Turned Into Our Driveway After Dark, and My Neighbor Was Already Sitting Outside Waiting to See What I Would Do
My Pension Disappeared Before Breakfast, and the Woman at the Bank Told Me Something I Never Expected to Hear
Part 18 of 20
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