to ride with it on my lap.
The ride to town wasn’t a long one, but it was long enough for Clara to still give me some attitude along the way. “You know, I don’t need your help with this,” she said. “It would have been more helpful if you would have stayed with Scott and continued to help him with the harvest.
“Why don’t you accept help from anyone?” I asked. I’d been dying to ask that question for days now. “I know you don’t need help, but why are you so resistant to taking it when it’s offered. You seem especially resistant to taking it from me.”
She didn’t look like she wanted to answer that question, but I guess she figured there wasn’t really any place for her to run away this time since we were in the car. “It has nothing to do with you,” she said. “I just like doing things on my own.”
“But everyone knows you’re capable. It’s not like you have anything to prove.”
She smiled at my comment as if it were a compliment that she rarely heard. It was true, though.
“Scott doesn’t think that I can handle the farm,” she said, finally opening up to me a little.
“That’s not true,” I said. “Your brother knows how capable you are. He thinks that you are very strong, and he even told me himself that you do the lion’s share of the work out there.”
“If he thought that I was capable of handling things on the farm by myself, then he would have already accepted the job you’ve offered him over and over again.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t want you to be lonely without him,” I suggested.
“I’m already lonely.”
I looked over at her when she said that and saw that her eyes were staring straight ahead. They looked vacant and sad. “Why?” I asked. “You shouldn’t ever feel lonely, Clara. You’ve got Scott, and I can tell you that despite the bickering that you two sometimes get into, your brother loves you very much. And you’ve got me.” I was treading very carefully in the next words that I chose to say. “I know I’m not around all the time, but I can promise you that when I am, I want to be around you. Even when I’m gone, all I can think about it—”
“Stop,” she said. “Just stop talking.”
I was going to ask her why I should stop talking and why she didn’t want to hear how I felt and what I had to say—I didn’t want her to ever feel lonely again—but just then, we pulled up to the market. It was small but bustling.
“Come on,” she said as she opened the door nearly before she had even turned off the engine. “It’s already started, and we need to get set up.”
I wanted to stay in the car until we had finished talking about this, but Clara was already out and starting to unload. I knew this was important to her, so I got out to help and tabled the conversation until later. We would still have the drive back together to talk. I helped her get everything unloaded and set up, and people started to come up to the stand almost immediately. I couldn’t blame them for being interested and wanting to stop and look. Not only did Clara look beautiful in her flowery dress with tiny pieces of her hair blowing in the breeze against her rosy cheeks, but the things she had brought to the stand looked delicious. I picked up one of the cans to look at it and read the handwritten label.
“Strawberry rhubarb jam?” I said as I looked around at all the jars and containers that were spread out on the stand. “You made all this?”
Clara nodded while she handed someone a bag of dried apple rings that she had dehydrated herself.
“When do you have time to make all this stuff and keep the farm running?” I asked in awe.
“I told you,” she said. “I can do all of this by myself.” She finally stopped for a moment to look straight into my eyes for more than a couple of seconds without looking away.
“And I told you,” I said, “that I know you can. But that I don’t want you to.”
11
Clara
The market today was going really well. There were lots of people here, and we were selling tons of stuff. After a few hours, I had already made a couple hundred bucks, which was enough to pay at least two