Growing Season Read online

  She passed the plate of burger patties to Melinda and raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “And it’s a delicate balancing act to deal with all the small-town intrigue. Some people want you to keep their confidences, others secretly want you to share them with everyone that comes in the door. If you’re looking for a part-time job to tide you over, you’d probably have an easier time at some little boutique up in the city.”

  “Not that we wouldn’t love for you to come back for a visit,” Roger quickly added. “We’ve always got room for you here. But if you do come back, just promise you’ll leave eventually.”

  “No worries there, Dad. I love you both but I’m used to being on my own. Actually, I discovered something interesting today, on my way over from Prosper.” She told her parents about the slow tractor, the sign, the barking dog, the peaceful farmhouse.

  Diane’s face lit up. “I think that’s the old Schermann place. My Grandma and Grandpa Sonberg, your great-grandparents, had their farm not far from there. If you’d gone south to the next crossroads and made a left, and went up the hill, it was on the right side.” She chewed on a fry, thinking. “A few of the Schermann boys never married. They were still living on the place you’re talking about, last I knew. But they’d be around ninety now. It’s likely the farmhouse has already changed hands.”

  Roger whistled as he smothered his burger patty with mustard. “Your mother continues to amaze me with how she knows everyone in the county. And where people lived fifty years ago. And who’s related. I’ve been around here most of my life, too, except when I was away at college, but I can’t keep all these families straight.”

  “When your parents run Prosper Hardware, you meet everyone eventually,” Diane smirked. “And like I said, that store’s a hub for gossip. But back to this house. There’s really a ‘for rent’ sign out front?”

  “Maybe it’s the fields that are for rent, not the house.” Roger took a gulp of his iced tea. “That’s more likely. Especially if someone bought the Schermann farm but works in town. People make good money these days renting out their fields to neighbors farming full-time.”

  Melinda found her heart sinking at that thought. She was drawn to the welcoming house, the vast garden, the big maple in the front yard. The driveway sign said “for rent,” but what exactly had the sign on the county highway said? She couldn’t remember. “House for rent” and “for rent” suddenly had two different meanings.

  “Besides,” Roger passed Melinda the salad. “Thought you were a city girl these days. And if the house is indeed for rent, they’ll likely want a renter for more than a month or so.”

  He stopped, reading the disappointment on his daughter’s face. “You’re really drawn to this place, aren’t you? I don’t want to discourage you, honey, but living in the country is very different from what you’re used to.”

  “I don’t know how to explain it.” Melinda twirled her fork in her fingers. “I saw the sign and drove on by at first. Then felt I needed to turn back, to see what was down that road. I got so excited when I saw the house, the yard, all of it.”

  She was rarely at a loss for words, but this time, she wasn’t sure how to describe what she was feeling.

  “Maybe I’m just tired. The last few months have been hard. I love the city, I love all my friends and my life there. But without a job, I feel like I’m just sleepwalking through my days. I need something to do, somewhere to belong. I didn’t realize how much of me was wrapped up in that job until it was gone.”

  Diane reached around to rub Melinda’s shoulder. “You’ve been pushing very hard with your career, especially the last few years. And things have been tough lately.” Then she brightened. “Maybe you just need a break. Maybe that’s why that farm affected you so. It is a charming place, for sure.”

  Roger shook his head. “I doubt Miriam can pay you much to help out at the store,” he said gently. “To pay rent at two places, even for a few months, I don’t see how you could swing that.”

  Melinda hesitated to let on about how much of this she already had worked out in her mind. She was jumping ahead too quickly and might end up disappointed.

  “Maybe I could sublet my place in Minneapolis,” she said casually. “But if I sublet, it can’t be for just a month or two. It would have to be at least for the summer. Maybe I can find a student who’s going to be out of their dorm until late August. But it’s already June. I’d have to move fast, and …”

  “And,” Diane raised a finger, “you haven’t even seen inside the house yet. Who knows what it’s like?”

  “I know, it could be in horrible shape. Why are we even talking about this?”

  But she a knew the answer. Seeing this charming homestead had lifted her spirits, just as visiting Prosper Hardware had that afternoon. She yearned for something, but wasn’t sure yet what it was. She couldn’t give up her life in the city. It wasn’t just her career. It was her friends, her habits, and her home there. But maybe it was time for a change, if only for a few months.

  “First things first,” Roger gestured at the cordless phone on the kitchen counter. “How about you find out what the deal is? You’re staying a few more days before heading back, anyway. It’s worth a call.”

  A guy named Kevin answered and confirmed the farmhouse was indeed for rent. The next day was Saturday, and he offered to drive down from Mason City to show her around.

  “So, it’s vacant, then?” She tried not to sound too eager.

  “Well … not yet,” was his answer.

  That was enough to make Roger insist on riding shotgun the next morning as Melinda retraced the miles back to the farm. She hated to look as if she couldn’t handle her own affairs, but had to admit it was a good idea to not go alone. Kevin sounded like he was about her age, and friendly enough, but she was still meeting a stranger at a remote location.

  “Not bad,” Roger said as they turned up the drive. “That’s some house. Does look like it could use a little TLC, though.”

  The morning sunshine that gave the yard a warm glow also cast an unfiltered spotlight on the house. Now that she was getting a closer look, Melinda noticed the wood siding was a little tired, the white paint a bit faded. The roof was older that she had expected, but no big patches were visible. And the flowers clustered around the yard were as vibrant now as in yesterday’s late-afternoon sun.

  She angled her car in next to a pickup parked by the garage. The truck was newer, a tasteful dark blue. It didn’t look like something a serial killer would use as a getaway vehicle. She had her seat belt unsnapped in a flash, her hand on the door handle. It had been hard to fall asleep last night, wondering what she might discover today.

  “OK, Dad, let me do the talking here. You’re just on security detail.”

  “Should I stay in the car, then?” He crossed his arms and tried to look tough. “Pretend I’ve got a gun under my jacket?”

  “Of course not. Just hover in the background, like the Secret Service. Front or back door?”

  “Back door’s the kitchen door, the one everybody uses. Let’s try there.”

  The second of the three weathered wood steps wavered slightly under her sneakers. Her heart was pounding. There was only one way to find out what this place was really like. She knocked.

  “It’s so good to see you.”

  An old, wavering voice came from somewhere near her elbow. She jumped, relieved the top step was sturdier than the second. “Are you here to buy some eggs this fine morning?”

  A short, slight, elderly man with striking blue eyes was giving her a curious-if-friendly look. His faded brown cap was a little too big for his head. She could see the dull gleam of the buckles on his overall straps under his tan cotton jacket. One hand balanced a galvanized bucket full of delicate brown eggs, and the other reached out for the steadying support of the stair rail.

  A medium-sized brown-and-white dog of unknown parentage tagged along behind, then stopped short next to the old man. The dog looked from Melinda to Roger, rais
ed its ears and offered a short bark.

  “Hobo, hush,” the elderly man said gently. “They look like nice people, don’t they?”

  The dog wagged its tail, gave the man an adoring glance, then jogged over to sniff the tires on Melinda’s car. The dog seemed intelligent and energetic, and she wondered if it recognized her vehicle. I’m so glad you can’t give me away, she thought.

  “You have some lovely fresh eggs there,” she offered the old man a smile that couldn’t quite cover her confusion. The voice on the phone had sounded much younger than this man looked. “But we’re here about the house. We’re here to meet Kevin.”

  The old man nodded but remained silent, a sea of emotions crossing his face. Melinda wasn’t sure what to think. Might he have dementia, or be hard of hearing? And where was Kevin? She came down to the bottom step and tried again.

  “Hi, I’m Melinda.” She offered her hand to the old man, who responded with a dry, feeble grip. “And this is my dad, Roger.”

  “Horace,” the old man nodded, finally offering a cautious smile. “Horace Schermann.”

  Roger and Melinda only had time to give each other a surprised glance before the metal storm door snapped open and a tall, slender man in his mid-forties leaned out. He had the same blue eyes as Horace.

  “Sorry I didn’t hear you knock at first, I was just cleaning up a bit. I’m Kevin Arndt.”

  Melinda eagerly shook his hand, relieved to solve at least one part of the puzzle. Even better, Kevin seemed calm and dependable. His light-brown hair was neatly trimmed, his glasses distinguished. His jeans looked nearly new, and clean. It was highly unlikely that Kevin Arndt staged rural rentals to lure unsuspecting urbanites to their deaths.

  “I see you’ve already met my uncle.” Kevin reached around Melinda and gently took the bucket of eggs from Horace, who gripped the railing tighter as he turned to mount the steps. Melinda and Roger pushed themselves against the side of the house to give the old man room, and Kevin held the door wide. “How are the chickens this morning, Uncle Horace?”

  “Pansy nearly pecked me again today, but I got her egg,” Horace let out a smug chuckle. “A fine one, too. All of them look good today, no cracks.” He carefully hung his faded cap on a row of iron pegs on the inside porch wall, revealing wispy white hair that was a bit shaggy on his neck.

  “Well, there’s plenty of chores to do every morning and night,” Horace said, seemingly to no one in particular. “Chickens to feed, eggs to gather. Oats and corn to the sheep, they need to be watered. But Hobo keeps things running smoothly, he’s always on the job.” He carefully lowered himself down on a wood bench and began to slowly remove his boots, their bottoms caked in mud.

  Kevin was friendly and Horace seemed more aware of his surroundings than Melinda had first suspected, but something didn’t add up. Then she remembered what Diane had said about the Schermann brothers. Horace had to be in his eighties, at least. Was he living here all alone?

  “Coffee’s on in the kitchen, Horace,” Kevin said gently. “Why don’t you settle in with a cup and we’ll be back in a minute.”

  Kevin gestured for Melinda and Roger to follow him outside, then made sure the storm door was latched securely behind him. They wandered over to the picnic table, which enjoyed the shade of another oak tree between the house and the garage.

  “So if the house is for rent, does Horace come with it or something?” Roger inclined his head back at the porch. Kevin laughed, breaking the tension.

  “No, unless Melinda’s a nurse’s aide. Sorry to seem so secretive about all this. I was trying to figure out a way to explain the situation without upsetting Horace.”

  Kevin leaned back against the edge of the picnic table. “I’ll start from the beginning. Horace and my other uncle, Wilbur, lived here for years until Wilbur went to the nursing home in Elm Springs about a year ago. My mom, Ada, is their only sibling that lives around here and we’ve always been close to Horace and Wilbur. Horace is pretty spry for eighty-nine, still has his license, even. He’s just shy with people he doesn’t know very well.”

  “That explains why he was so quiet when he found us on his back steps,” Melinda said. “I wasn’t sure at first if he understood why we were here.”

  “Oh, he knows,” Kevin sighed and rubbed the side of his face. “He just doesn’t want to deal with all of this. You see, Horace fell two weeks ago. Says he was changing a light bulb in the kitchen and lost his footing, slipped off the chair. Nothing serious, the doctor said he didn’t break any bones. But still, it scared us.”

  Kevin’s shoulders slumped. There was both love and frustration in his voice. “I’d told him to let me handle things like that, not to risk it. But he’s stubborn. I’ve been coming down from Mason City every other weekend to help him around the farm, take him to town for supplies. Thank goodness for good neighbors, they keep tabs on him for us.”

  “It’s tough seeing your older relatives decline.” Melinda felt sorry for Kevin. He obviously cared for his uncle. “My Grandpa Shrader worked behind the counter at Prosper Hardware until he couldn’t get around, even with a walker. He had a hard adjustment to retirement. His work kept him going.”

  “Your family owns the store?” Kevin’s mood brightened. “What a great place! Always glad to see it’s still going. The community needs it. How’s Frank doing? My mom said he had a heart attack.”

  For a moment Melinda couldn’t believe word had traveled that fast. But of course it had.

  “It’s my wife’s family that owns the store,” Roger said. “Frank’s doing much better, we’re all thankful for that. So, I’m guessing Horace needs to go to senior housing somewhere, but doesn’t want to go?”

  “Exactly,” Kevin sighed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Wilbur’s ninety-two and is in the beginning stages of dementia, and Horace understands why Wilbur had to go to assisted living. But he sees Wilbur sitting around, looking out the window, and says that’s not for him, he’s got too much to do.”

  Kevin rubbed his hands together. “But now, something’s come up. Wilbur’s roommate is transferring next week to a place over in Charles City. I’ve convinced Horace to go for an extended visit, that Wilbur will be lonely when his roommate leaves. I’m not sure how this will play out, but I’m hoping once Horace gets there, he’ll like it and maybe want to stay.”

  Melinda realized that if Horace’s absence was to be temporary, at least at first, there was a chance to negotiate a short-term lease. But she could see how difficult this was for Kevin and tried to keep her excitement in check. “Actually, I only need a place for a few months. I was laid off from my job at an ad agency in Minneapolis and Aunt Miriam’s asked me to help out at the store for a while, just until Frank gets back on his feet.”

  A big grin spread across Kevin’s face. He looked from Melinda to Roger and bounced up from the edge of the picnic table. “Well then, maybe you’re the renter I’m looking for. We’re hoping Horace will settle in at the home, but I don’t know if he will or how long that might take.”

  Then Kevin hesitated. “But there’s another wrinkle to this plan.”

  “Oh my,” Melinda’s spirits started to sink. Maybe this was too good to be true. “Just how many wrinkles are there?”

  “Depends, if you count all twelve sheep separately or as one flock.” Kevin pointed over toward the barn, then gestured back at the chicken coop. “Same for the hens, I think there’s eight of those. And then there’s Hobo. He means the world to Horace. I wish I could take him, but he won’t be happy at my bungalow in town.”

  Kevin crossed his arms and shook his head. “Horace says he’ll only go if there’s someone to look after the animals. We can’t sell off the chickens and sheep until we’re sure he’s not coming home, that would break his heart. The neighbors are great, but requiring someone to come over twice a day to do chores is a lot to ask. Horace won’t even consider that idea, as he says Hobo will be terribly lonesome if no one is living here. And I think he’
s right.”

  Melinda glanced around the yard. Tender green shoots were just starting to lift their heads in the garden, which Horace had carefully planted in rail-straight rows. It would need to be weeded and watered regularly. The outbuildings were sturdy, but she could make out small chips of peeling paint and worn shingles here and there, even from her spot near the picnic table. If the house sat vacant and the animals were gone, this place would rapidly slip into the sad, tumble-down loneliness that marked abandoned farms all around the countryside.

  And then there was Hobo. Hobo was going to lose his best friend. He didn’t need to lose his home, too. She could see his kind brown eyes shining under the picnic table, as if he knew every word of the conversation. She crouched down and reached out to him, let him sniff her palm, then gently patted his head. “What do you think, huh?”

  Hobo licked her hand and the funny white tip on his tail thumped once, twice, but he didn’t get up.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask,” Kevin’s voice was low, tentative. Melinda could see Hobo’s pleading look mirrored in Kevin’s eyes.

  She glanced again at Hobo and then at her dad, who gave her an encouraging nod. This wasn’t what she had expected. It was complicated, difficult, a challenge. But wasn’t her whole life like that these days?

  “It’s a lot of responsibility,” Kevin warned as she got back on her feet. “I’d need you to be my eyes and ears out here. I’ll bring all the feed down, you won’t need to worry about that. The chicken and sheep chores aren’t much in the summer, anyway. We’d like to keep the garden going,” he looked over his shoulder at the substantial plot, “but the animals would be the priority. The good news is, with all those contingencies, the rent would be low. How does one hundred a month sound?”

  Melinda’s eyes widened and she nearly laughed. “Are you serious? That just might be an offer I can’t refuse.” But then her shoulders slumped. “I’m a town girl, grew up in Swanton. I love animals, but I’ve never taken care of anything other than a cat or dog. Are you sure I’m the one to take this on?”