Authors: Marlina Williams
“Well, honey. Looks like you’ve been doing some heavy thinking. How’s it working out for you?”
Harper gave Brianna a watery smile fraught with all the thoughts flying through her head. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do. Let me rephrase that, what I’m going to try to do.”
Brianna looked at her with expectation shining in her eyes framed with heavy mascara. “Well, spit it out already.”
Harper wrestled jangled nerves and won by finding an image of Cara in her memory locker to calm her jitters. “I’m going to go out to the farm and try to finish what Cara started. It was her dream, and I feel obligated to give it a shot. I can’t imagine selling the last thing Cara owned to some stranger.”
“Would you like my opinion?” Without waiting for an answer Brianna continued. “You’re doing the right thing, and it’s what Cara would’ve wanted that’s why she left it all to you.”
Brianna pushed a binder across the desk. “This is what I was working on while you were gone. I knew you’d make the right decision, so I wanted to be ready. I pulled all the old property records including the listing from when Cara purchased it. I found some interesting tidbits on its history. It’s all in there, so why don’t you peruse that while I go have a smoke? Feel free to sit on the couch and get comfortable.”
Harper waved as Brianna exited the building accompanied by the jingle of the bell and a movement of air as she passed through the opening. The scent of Brianna’s vanilla scented perfume hung in the air as a reminder of her exit.
With shaky hands Harper picked up the binder and walked to the tan leather couch. Smooth velvety leather grabbed her butt as she sank into a sit and settled into well-worn cowhide. She shook her head at the first page. Brianna must have some serious organization skills if she could put this binder together in the limited time she had when Harper was out of the office.
A printed table of contents faced Harper, laid out in neat precise rows along with page numbers, titles, subtitles, and various bullet points. With hands still shaking from nervous energy Harper turned to the page with its shiny clear protector guarding the words underneath. It held the probate announcement from the original property owners. I contained all the typical legalese and nonsensical plat descriptions.
The property entered probate after the death of Victor and Murine Slater who died within weeks of each other after fifty five years of wedded bliss. Harper rolled her eyes at the thought of wedded bliss that lasted fifty five years. She knew better, they were probably fighting behind closed doors everyday then presenting their conservative little town with a fake veneer of happiness. Her eyes roved farther into the document.
Victor and Murine had owned the property since 1955. The original property was closer to a thousand acres, but they sold off parcels over the years ending with the smaller one hundred acre plot. After they purchased it they built the house that still stood and made it into a working cattle farm for a number of years. A freak storm wiped out their entire herd of cattle during the winter of 1965. Once insurance claims were settled for the cattle they decided to change directions and moved over to wheat, corn, and soybeans. Over time, as crops ebbed and flowed with the economy and the fickle nature of weather they were underwater on their mortgage and various farming implements.
Starting in 1975 they began selling off parcels of land to pay off their massive debts and put food on the table for their five children. As each parcel of land was sold their farming operation had to be curtailed to fit the new acreage available to farm. For the next thirty years their farm was a veritable feast or famine. All five children grew up and left farm life for city adventures leaving Victor and Murine to work the remaining land on their own. In 2005 they sold the last parcel slice, outside of the one hundred acres surrounding their house and barn, to a man with farming dreams, but city ignorance.
That man would later purchase a pregnant chestnut mare. The mare and her filly paid the price for the man’s idyllic vision of what it meant to own a farm and two twelve hundred pound animals that needed food and a pen bigger than a hundred square feet. His daughter lost interest in the animals once she realized they needed food and care, and the newness of a cute foal wore off as the foal grew into a full-sized horse stunted from lack of food and proper care.
With the money from the last parcel sell Victor and Murine were able to retire. They lived the remainder of their golden years in relative comfort in the house they built in 1955. The house fell into disrepair as they ignored the upkeep an older home required. Upon their deaths the home was stuck in probate due to them not having a will and none of the kids willing to take over the farm. Once probate was settled the home had sat unused for a year before it was put up for sale. The kids listed the home too high for the slow housing market so the property sat on the market for two years as it continued a slow deterioration into abandoned property.
***
Cara had told Harper the story of discovering the sad house on a drive through the countryside based on a closed eye finger point to a random map of Missouri. Cara had broken up with her most recent girlfriend and knew she needed a change in her life. She dug through her desk and found an old road atlas, one with each state on its own page. In true Cara fashion she dropped the atlas on the floor with the intent of whatever page it landed would be the next destination on her train of life that was ready to move on. When it dropped it flipped open to a map of Missouri. She shrugged with indifference, closed her eyes, and called to her inner muse to guide her wandering finger. With excited trepidation she opened her eyes to see where her new home would lie.
Her finger rested on a tiny town called Buck Run. She spent that evening combing through the limited job offerings such a small town contained. When she spotted an opening for a physical therapist she shrieked with joy knowing her fated muse had guided her finger with precision. The next morning she was packed and on the road heading to her fifth new destination in as many years. Her phone’s GPS stopped working when she got close to town causing her to take a wrong turn. The wrong turn was a dirt road crossing in front of the farm she would eventually purchase.
She drove the dirt road at a sloth’s pace attempting to keep her teeth from rattling out of her head. As she rounded a sharp bend her future home came into view, Ziggie from his shotgun seat, issued a sharp bark of disapproval when his balance was interrupted by the rude curvature of the road. The fence surrounding the property couldn’t contain a wheelchair bound horse much less anything mobile. The boards were weathered gray and detached in dejected neglect. For her it was love at first glimpse when she spotted the ragged For Sale sign swinging a lopsided dance near the mailbox at the driveway’s end.
By the time Cara found the neglected overpriced property it had been sitting stagnant for four years, between probate and kids seeing dollar signs, every potential buyer was driven off by greed. Cara knew immediately that she would own the property and her dream, tamped down by life, of owning a u-pick fruit farm sat in front of her in all its neglected glory.
When Cara contacted the realtor who was weary of a property that would never sell, he was ecstatic to have a possible buyer for the red mark on his books. With much persuading the kids agreed to part with their childhood home that would soon be no more than a pile of dry lumber and faded memories without the maintenance it so sorely needed. Cara purchased it for a fraction of the asking price and had been methodically bringing it back to life.
***
Harper recalled the day Cara had called her about finding her dream home.
“Harper, Harper, Harper guess what!” Cara squealed in the same delighted voice of a kid learning of an upcoming trip to the Magical Kingdom.
“Cara, slow down. You’re gonna hyperventilate if you don’t breathe. In out, in out, in out.” Harper teased as Cara tried to contain her joy.
“I found my dream house, I really found it. I got a call from the bank and they approved my loan.” Cara continued trying to calm her ecstasy while she waited for Harper to respond.
“Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you.” A moment of jealousy flashed up then burned out that Cara’s life was starting fresh while hers had finished crumbling along with her doomed marriage.
With a flash of brilliance Cara declared. “Harper, how about you come live with me? We can be roomies and start over together.” A note of desperation Harper had never heard from Cara crept into her request.
“Cara, I’m barely hanging on here. I can’t afford to move cross country right now. Maybe in a few years after the farm is up and running I can come be your hired hand and do all the grunt work.”
With disappointment dripping from each syllable Cara voiced her assent to Harper’s position. “I know, but maybe someday it will happen. Until then I will be working my little rear off to make a palace for my future roomie.”
Harper smiled at Cara’s childish enthusiasm and willingness to always look for a bright spot even when things weren’t going her way. “Maybe when I move there you can have a man lined up that will treat me right and you’ll finally meet your fairytale princess. We can all live in bliss while we run your farm.”
Sudden silence echoed through the phone. Harper pulled the phone from her ear to stare at the screen, thinking they had lost connection.
“Cara, you still there?” The silence continued for several more seconds before Cara responded.
“Yeah, I’m still here. I was thinking about the dream you’re creating for our future. I like the sound of it.” Harper detected a note of softness, almost a muffled quality, to Cara’s words, a note she had picked up on before but could never quite figure out.
Harper didn’t know that Cara’s vision was much like her own but with a few key differences, and a couple less people.
“Alright my very best friend in the whole wide universe, it’s time for me to go I got lots of work to do. You know what I mean, man?” Cara’s normal bright eagerness was back in her voice. The muffled voice quality gone like smoke in a windstorm, gone before you had a chance to realize it was there.
Harper chuckled, happy to hear the jingly breathy voice she was used to. “Yes, Miss Cara, go get to work. Send me some pics so I can see your new dream castle.”
“Oh, that’ll take a while. You won’t be seeing any pictures until it’s all fixed up and ready for an open house showing, complete with chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of ice cold milk.”
“Bye, Cara, talk to you soon. I love you.”
Harper heard the distant beep as they disconnected. She puzzled over Cara’s change, but decided to shelve it for later reflection. It would sit along with all the other items shelved on that same perch that was beginning to gather dust.
Harper pulled herself back from her ruminations to continue the task at hand. She flipped to the next page where a full color photo of a dilapidated house reflected the years of neglect. The house, a typical rambling structure built to last and raise a passel of kids without them falling over each other. Her fingers rubbed over the smooth clear plastic covering the chipped and dented, but somehow charming structure. She now saw what Cara must have seen that first day when fate lined up to show her a lump of coal hiding a precious gem under its ugly surface.
Below the picture the house details were listed in typical fashion: five bedrooms, three bathrooms, three thousand spacious feet, perfect for the growing family, this is the house for you if you’re a handyman who needs room for the kids to roam, and room for the horses to rest their horsey heads. A fixer upper with real potential, all offers will be considered. Call me today to inquire about your future home in the peaceful countryside, with great neighbors – because they’re too far away to be nosy.
Harper laughed at the last bit of the listing. The realtor was working hard to sell a property that would have been condemned in a city. She liked the zest applied to make a crummy house seem like the whole cake with ice cream on the side. He even made the fixing up part sound like it would be great fun to participate in such an arduous task. Tom Sawyer would have been proud of his work ethic.
She thumbed through the next pages showing the barn, a beat up truck covered in rust and shiny splotches of white paint, the final two pages showed the animals. The first was of Ziggie lying on a stoop next to a doggie door. Harper’s heart ripped when she saw the sadness born of grief in his eyes. The picture must have been taken after the accident. She flipped again and two red colored horses grazed in a small paddock beside the crumbling barn. They seemed indifferent to the photographer as they concentrated on chewing winter brown grass and flicking their long tails. Their white striped faces and stocking clad legs contrasted against the winter landscape and their fluffy winter coats.
As Harper flipped the last page and closed the binder Brianna returned from her cigarette break.
“Well, I see you’ve finished. What’d you think?”
“You’re very thorough. I’m amazed you put this together so quickly.”
A sly guilty look crossed Brianna’s face. “Okay, I may have fudged that a little. I had most of this together before you got here. I knew you would make the right decision.”
Harper smiled. “Well, looks like your little voice told you right. One question from me for now, who’s taking care of the animals?”
“Silly me, I totally forgot to tell you. The neighbor, Noah Givens, has been watching them. He was friends with Cara and helped her with some work before… well before you know. He’s a carpenter, so I bet he’d be willing to help with anything you might need.”