The Year Money Grew on Trees (26 page)

My dad kept reading over the deed without saying much, as if he were looking for some kind of mistake. He finally set it aside and said, shaking his head, "You are one sneaky kid. How did you ever pull this off?" His voice had a mixture of pride and awe in it. "Why don't you sell that place? Someone could probably put three or four houses on that land. If you could get $10,000 an acre..."

"No, no. I can't do that. The trees have to stay," I insisted.

"Whatever you say, farm boy. But since we're neighbors now, you better keep the weeds down on your place." He chuckled and flashed a proud grin.

"I will if you keep your yard cleaned up," I replied.

As I knew she would, my aunt laughed and laughed when she found out the whole story and my uncle started calling me "the apple tycoon." "If you're ever looking for a replacement for Michael, give me a call," he teased.

In some ways, Amy was right about what would happen between us sooner than I ever expected. After the apples were picked, she stopped taking the bus and would instead ride with friends who could drive to school. She also got a serious boyfriend she was always talking to or hanging out with. I hated his guts but didn't dare say so to him or Amy.

I watched her go, feeling more helpless than I ever had surrounded by three hundred wild apple trees. I dreaded her growing up and looking at me differently. Inside I promised that when I thought of her, I would always begin with a scene from somewhere in that orchard. She'd have sunburned cheeks and muddy fingernails. She'd be that same little girl I waited for at the bus stop, her eyes shining in the New Mexico sun.

***

She wasn't with Sam, Michael, and me that next February as we dragged the ladders over the frozen ground. We forgot the radio, so it was quiet when we made our first cuts with the pruning scissors. Beneath its dark winter skin, the wood was soft and alive, as if the trees were expecting us, expecting spring.

"Just think how easy it's going to be, now that we know what we're doing," I sang out.

Sam snipped away diligently on the second ladder.

Michael was already talking about how good the Shasta I promised him was going to taste.

Aaron Hawkins tended his family's orchard as a child on a New Mexican plateau. He graduated from the California Institute of Technology with a bachelor's of science in applied physics and from UC Santa Barbara with a Ph.D. in electrical and computer engineering. He is now a professor of electrical engineering at Brigham Young University, as well as the author of
The Handbook of Optofluidics.
He was inspired to write this, his first novel, from his memories of the family orchard. "I was never really paid for any of the work," he writes, "but looking back, I think of it as transformative. I hoped to create a story that contained some of the things I learned—appreciation for nature and growing something, the self-esteem that comes from hard work, and the love for family and friends that comes from struggling together." He lives with his wife and kids in Provo, Utah.

www.aaronhawkins.com

Aaron Hawkins and his little sister Lisa in their apple orchard.

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