Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
I glance out my office window yet again, my focus not at all where it’s supposed to be. It’s getting late, and only one of the two tractors is back from planting.
I drag my attention back to my laptop to continue updating tomorrow’s prescription for the next field. But as I work on typing in target rates, movement out the window catches my eye.
The second tractor pulls into the yard and parks in front of the garage, and I swivel my chair towards the window as my heart picks up its pace.
Silas hops down from the cab, lifts his hat to run his fingers through his hair, then settles it on his head again. And even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders.
I watch as he closes the tractor cab door with more force than is necessary and disappears into the garage.
Well, shit.
Without giving myself a chance to talk myself out of it, I snap my laptop shut, push out of my chair, and head out of the office.
Most of the crew has already left since it’s getting late, and some relief flows through me at the sight of the nearly empty parking lot.
Because whatever I’m about to walk into will go much better without an audience.
While Silas and I have worked out a lot and we’ve reached an understanding about what happened between us, this variable-rate overhaul could still be a sore spot.
I’m the one who brought in a new way of farming that he now has to get used to.
And from the looks of it, it might not have gone so well today.
I pull in a breath to brace myself as I step through the wide bay door into the garage and scan the open space.
Al is the only one in here, standing at the back and sorting a stack of work orders.
He catches my eye and jerks his thumb towards the back door, and I give him a quick nod before heading that way.
As I step outside, I lift a hand to shield my eyes against the low sun, scanning the fields draped in golden light to look for Silas.
“You didn’t need to come out here.”
I look down to my left, where Silas sits on the ground with his back against the building, head tipped against the metal and arms draped over his bent knees. He doesn’t look up, keeping his gaze fixed on the field in front of us.
I walk over and lower myself to the ground beside him, matching his posture against the wall. My shoulder lightly brushes against his as I settle next to him, and heat rushes up my spine.
“I know,” I say.
He continues to stare into the open field as I turn my head to look at him, and I take in the way his jaw and shoulders are tight like he’s holding something back.
But I stay quiet and don’t ask him for it.
I’m not na?ve enough to think everything is just magically going to be better because we decided it will be.
There’s still some fragility here as we rebuild, and I know better than to push him.
He’s always needed a bit more time to process, and he always used to come to me when he was ready.
And if he feels like he can’t do that yet, at least I’ll be beside him, showing him I’m here anyway.
We sit in silence for a bit as we look out over the farm and the sun creeps towards the horizon, washing everything in soft gold and slowly stealing the light from the sky.
“I hate the new system,” Silas eventually says.
I just nod, not at all surprised to hear this. “Yeah.”
I turn to look at him and suppress my sigh as I see the hurt and frustration written all over him. And conflict twists deep inside me.
This is what I was hired to do. It’s why I’m here, and it’s what the farm needs.
And already, I’m seeing cleaner coverage and fewer overlaps in the field that’s been planted so far.
But I also know that all this change is tearing up Silas’s world.
From the day I stepped foot on this farm after years away, I could tell Silas completely threw himself into this work.
He’s worked hard to learn everything he needs to know to do the best job he can.
And now I’m coming in and changing it all up on him.
“Anything specific?” I ask.
He pulls in a deep breath. “No.”
His fingers start fidgeting, and I can practically feel the anxiety rolling off him.
“No?” I ask, trying to get him to open up enough so I can help him.
He sighs again and shakes his head. “It’s everything.
” He bites the inside of his cheek as he seems to get lost in thought for a moment.
“The screen is different, and it doesn’t…
It’s not the same. The guidance lines are gone, and now it’s colours and blocks.
..” His brow creases, and he shifts a bit against the garage.
“You showed me that, I know, but now it’s just…
” He lets out a frustrated noise. “Fuck, I don’t know.
” He brings a hand to his face and rubs it hard with a heavy breath.
I bump his knee with mine and let the contact linger a bit longer than it needs to as my pulse quickens. But I shift back as he drops his hand and tips his head back against the wall again.
“Walk me through it,” I say. “From the beginning.”
Silas stares out at the field for a moment longer before he releases a breath through his nose and nods. “Ok.”
And I try my hardest to calm my racing heart and the surge of hope and joy in my chest at that simple word. I need to just stay in this moment as he leans on me, like he always used to. Like I always want him to.
“The new screen is a lot,” Silas says quietly. “I don’t know where to look… and it’s hard to find what I need.”
I nod, even though he’s not looking at me. I get that.
He’s quiet for a bit as he gets lost in thought once more, and just as I’m about to gently ask him what else, he starts again.
“I don’t understand the target versus actual rate,” he says. “You said it’s normal for it to keep changing, but I keep getting worried it’s a problem, and…” He trails off and starts fidgeting with his fingers again.
“And what?” I ask.
“It just feels like it’s doing everything for me, and I have no control over any of it anymore.”
I wince to myself, as his words land exactly where I knew they would. He feels like he’s losing the only thing he ever really had control over.
“Even when I knew a zone needed more seed pieces,” he adds.
I look over at him again. “What do you mean?”
His eyes drift out to the far field he planted today. “The strip along the west edge, where the wind comes straight off the water and dries it out. I’ve always put more seed through there.”
I shift my gaze out to the field as well and my brow furrows.
In my maps that entire western edge sits inside one big zone and shows the same rate for seeding.
The soil samples from that corner folded into the rest, yield data from past seasons smoothed out the thin spots, and the algorithm ironed everything into an average.
On the screen, it reads as a single block…
and there are no data points to account for wind drying out a section of a zone.
“Did you override it?” I ask, turning to look at Silas again.
But he just shakes his head.
And that confuses me. He just let it go? Even though he knew what it needed?
“I didn’t know how,” he says.
But I showed him how…
“I didn’t know how to trust it.” Silas finally turns and looks at me, his eyes meeting mine with a sadness that damn near breaks my heart. “Or that I could do it.” Then he shrugs and looks away from me again. “Or maybe I just don’t understand any of it.”
“Silas…” I say, keeping my eyes on him as his drift over the farmland in front of us. “You can trust yourself.”
“I’m trying,” he says quietly.
“I know.” I let my head roll against the wall and tip my face to the sky. The last of the clouds stretch across the horizon, deepening from pale gold to purple as the light drains out of them and evening settles over the farm.
And I do know he’s trying. With everything. With me, with all this change, and with everything life throws at him.
“You should take over the hollow heart field,” he says.
My head drops, and I stare straight at him. But he doesn’t look at me, and just keeps his gaze locked somewhere distant.
“No,” I say firmly.
Silas sighs and turns his head to look at me.
“Why?” I ask, searching his gaze and finding nothing there but resignation.
He just shrugs. “I can’t do it right.”
I fight the urge to reach out and hug him, and another urge to smack some sense into him. But I know it’s not his fault.
An overwhelming anger builds inside me, and I want to unleash it on the world for making him feel this way. For making him think he can’t do anything, he fails at everything he touches, and that when life gets hard, he needs to give up.
I was always the one to hold him up and never let him slip under.
But now, it looks like he just lets himself sink.
Well, not anymore.
“I’m not taking it,” I say with a shake of my head. “You’re not giving up.”
He rolls his eyes and leans his head back against the wall with a sigh.
And I have to fight off a smile. Fuck, I missed that sass.
“But I will help you,” I say. “If you’ll let me.”
His gaze slides back to mine, and he watches me like he’s waiting for more.
“You know this land better than I ever will,” I continue. “Like today. You knew that zone needed more seed. Instinct like that doesn’t show up in my numbers. It can’t. And all I know are numbers.” A soft smile spreads over my lips. “I need you.”
Something flickers to life behind his eyes. And although it’s subtle, I catch it, and my smile grows.
“You and me?” I ask him, my heart thumping harder as I lay it out between us and hope he chooses to take it.
His eyes flick between mine for a moment, and the entire world seems to still as I wait.
Then he nods.
“You and me.”