Chapter Thirteen

I spent the next two days after the funeral entertaining all kinds of folks who dropped by to offer condolences. I know most of them meant well, but by Monday afternoon, I was worn out. The only good thing was that Annie spent part of Sunday afternoon with me, helping to clean up the kitchen. I was happy Wayne was working at the hospital. Annie and I shared a few beers and frozen pizza around suppertime. We sat across from each other, the kitchen island between us, laughing about some of the local characters.

“So, Annie, tell me about the rumor I heard about you.” Her neck stiffened, and as she turned her eyes to me, I noticed a guarded look that dropped away as her face became more open and inquisitive.

“Okay, what kind of baloney have they been saying about my boring little life?”

“That you’re a pretty good shot. Billy said you like to go out to the Martins and play Annie Oakley, or is it more like Calamity Jane?” I hoped she knew it was just a friendly question, not an accusation. She looked relieved, so I wasn’t off the mark.

She smiled, gave an offhand laugh, and said, “Oh, that little rumor. Well, it’s true. I’m a gun-toting gal these days. Wayne and I took some lessons several years ago, where I fired all kinds of rifles, pistols, shotguns, and automatics. I got hooked. So I practice whenever I can get away from the store. And, guess what, I’m damned good at it. Kinda ticks Wayne off because I’m better than him, but it’s one thing we can do together.”

I felt a minor jolt of jealousy at hearing about Annie and Wayne’s common hobby. But years of practice at hiding it came into play. “So why the Martins, Annie? I mean, no offense, but aren’t they a little, um, hard to deal with?”

“Now you’re just showing your O’Hara prejudice about the Martins. Really, they’re nice guys; you just need to know how to understand them. Josh is an amazing man. This whole thing with your dad is a misunderstanding gone out of control.” I had been admiring the late afternoon sun in her short, married-lady haircut but was miffed by the word “prejudice.”

“A misunderstanding? I’m not sure what it is because I haven’t met with the attorneys yet. What do you know about it?” While I hid my irritation, I could feel myself slip into the puzzled questioner mode, one of my favorite journalism tactics. Even my relationship with Annie wasn’t immune to that.

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about your father’s misguided dealings, not with him so newly in the grave. Let’s save it for another time.”

“Why ‘misguided’? Whatever has happened in that land deal, I need to know about it…from several perspectives. If you’ve got something to tell me, I want to know. The whole situation is confusing, and it seems my dad was really focused on it just before he died. If it was such a problem, then I’d like to fix things as soon as possible.”

Annie reached over the island and grabbed my hand. The first thing I noticed was that her hand was sweaty, but then I felt barely discernable revulsion in my gut. She looked directly into my eyes. “Jill, I know you can be reasonable and fair. Your dad was more stubborn than you.” She tightened her squeeze on my hand, then gradually let go, but didn’t move her eyes from mine. I forced myself to focus on her words, trying to ignore my surprise reaction to her touch.

“Old man Martin was in no shape to be selling his land. He’s old, has dementia. Your dad, well, I have to say, he took advantage of that. Fifty-six hundred acres, Jill, only half of it farmable. Why would your dad do such a thing? He took the Martins’ legacy from them. Those boys grew up on that farm and expected to live on it all their lives. Now you own it, and—”

“Dad bought that land from a demented old man? Hey, I know my dad was, well, greedy, but I can’t believe he would knowingly do that. He did have some ethics, and one of them was respect for farmers and their land.”

Annie was shaking her head, appearing sadly perplexed. “Well, for whatever reason, he wouldn’t change his mind and sell it back, even for a small profit. The Martins don’t have much money, and now that the old man is in the nursing home, they’re strapped. The money their dad made on the farm sale got eaten up by creditors. Josh told me.” She grabbed my forearm, gave me one of those melt-away looks I cherished when we were in high school, and said, “You can fix it, Jilly, can’t you? I hate the thought of your dad leaving this world putting a bad taste in everybody’s mouth.”

“I’ll look into it, Annie. I don’t want my father’s legacy to be any more tarnished than I think it is. I’m meeting with the attorney this week. Let’s see what fixing this would take.”

And there it was, the smile that had kept me captive for all those years. As I led her to the front door, we held hands. Just before she let herself out, she took my face between both hands, slowly kissed each cheek, looked into my eyes, and said, “I’m glad you’re home, Jilly.” I was relieved when I closed the door behind her.