Chapter 21 #2
Jackson was in his element, giving impassioned tours of the seed building and the expanded fields, describing the future he had envisioned and was now building, brick by brick, petal by petal.
Tibb gave the floral-arranging demonstrations, sharing tips on how to mix and match flowers, how to care for them, and how to bring out their natural beauty.
And Luke…Luke was everywhere. His infectious energy and enthusiasm radiated out from him like a beacon.
He played with groups of kids, brought Tibb more flowers, and helped Jackson with the tours.
I stationed myself at the front, taking orders for bouquets, managing the steady stream of customers eager to purchase flowers for their homes, businesses, and upcoming events.
I also made reservations for photo shoots and weddings, and kept everything organized with a smile.
We needed a dozen more people, but somehow, we made it work.
“You did it,” I said to Jackson during one of his breaks.
Without a word, Jackson swept me up in his arms and hugged me tight, holding me for a moment before pulling back with a grin, his eyes sparking with the same enthusiasm and vision that had driven him from the beginning.
He didn’t need to say anything. His smile said it all.
Then, he released me and was already moving, ready to give another tour, and I beamed because he paused long enough to share this small, fleeting moment of joy with me.
“So this is where you ran off to,” a familiar voice behind me said.
I turned, and Walt stood in front of me with both hands gripping his cane tight, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
“You came,” I said, a grin spreading across my face as I walked to him. Without a second thought, I pulled him into a hug.
He laughed and wrapped an arm around me. “Of course I did,” he said, looking around the farm. “Had to see what the fuss was all about. It’s all everyone’s been talkin’ about.”
I pulled back slightly, a tinge of regret in my voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“That’s all right. I ain’t never been good at goodbyes.
I’m glad to see that you’re doin’ good. I figured you’d land on your feet.
I just didn’t think it would be here.” He stepped back and gave me a long, thoughtful look, taking in every detail, as if cataloging all the changes in me. “This place agrees with you.”
I smiled. “Yeah…it does.”
Walt raised an eyebrow, and there was a knowing, almost mischievous gleam in his eyes. “And from that hug I just saw, I’m guessin’ Jackson has something to do with that?”
My cheeks warmed, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”
“I knew it. I knew it when he brought you those flowers. I could see it in his eyes then and yours when you saw them,” he said, grinning. “I’m not wrong about these things.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“I’ve lived long enough to know how to spot when something’s right. And you…” He gave me a pointed look. “You’ve got a spark in you that wasn’t there before. I’m glad to see it. To see you happy.”
I swallowed, moved by his sincerity. “Thanks, Walt. That means a lot to me”
He nodded and extended his arm to me. “Now…I reckon it’s time I take a proper look at this place. Y’all got me all the way out here and all.”
I took his arm and gestured toward the fields. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
As we walked together, I thought of my early days with Walt.
In a short period of time, he had been a steady presence, someone who felt more like the father I wished I had, someone gentle and wise.
I thought of the father I did have, the one who shaped me in ways I never fully understood.
I don’t know if I made peace with Daddy in that moment, not in the same way I had with Mama.
But I felt a connection between the past and present, the way my journey was so deeply rooted in everything that had come before it.
Daddy had taught me how to survive. I knew that.
He had prepared me, mentally and physically, for the rough road ahead, whether he meant to or not.
He pushed me to be strong, to face adversity head-on, and to keep moving forward always.
His lessons had been tough, practical, and often delivered in a way that made me feel more like a soldier than a child.
But those lessons had stuck. They had become part of me and deeply embedded in my bones.
I was here because of him, but I also wouldn’t be here, alive, if not for him.
I couldn’t deny that. It was a complicated truth, one that I learned to accept over time.
In that moment, I understood that Daddy had given me the tools to survive, but he hadn’t given me to tools to live.
He hadn’t taught me how to trust or embrace the softer side of life.
But at the same time, I realized something else, that part of my strength, the part that allowed me to thrive, had come from the things I didn’t learn from him.
Those things I had to learn on my own or find elsewhere.
Here on the farm, Jackson, Tibb, and even Luke taught me how to build my own version of peace and rest, one that blended with the hard lessons from Daddy with the compassion and understanding I’d found in others.
The rest of the day, and the days that followed, blurred into a whirlwind of activity.
We helped customers, locals and tourists alike, showing them around the farm and processing the endless stream of orders that flooded in.
We ran on fumes, but the energy of the farm, of the people who came to experience it, kept us going.
Every smile, every thank-you, every look of wonder, fueled us.
By the end of the week, one thing was crystal clear: the farm was a success.
The skeptics who had questioned Jackson’s vision, were now eager to get involved and learn more about the co-op.
It was impossible to ignore the contrast between the doubt and skepticism that had clouded the early days and the reality we were living in now.
The first week of the farm had exceeded our wildest expectations, drawing people not just from our community but from all over.
People were coming to Gee’s Bend and Camden to experience what we had built.
The farm and the area busted with possibility.
We knew it wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.
The seed business was just starting and still had a long way to go before its potential would be realized.
During that first week, as I watched the farm flourish and the excitement continue to grow, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride.
Jackson’s dream wasn’t just viable—it was thriving.
And I knew deep down that this was only the beginning of something much greater than any of us could have ever dreamed.
“How do you feel?” I asked Jackson one evening just before sunset. We were on one of our last walks together and had wandered farther than usual, our bare feet brushing against the swaying grass, until we came upon a wide field of wildflowers.
A splatter of soft oranges and pinks painted the sky, and the sun sat low, casting golden rays over the field.
We stopped and sat, the earth cool beneath me as I lay back among the flowers, allowing my body to melt into the ground, becoming part of the landscape, each petal, each blade of grass blending into me.
Jackson sat next to me. A slight breeze stirred the petals, and the air smelled of sweetness.
I turned my head to look at him, wondering if he, too, was trying to preserve the moment.
His gaze was fixed on the horizon as though he was trying to read something in the fading light.
“Like these wildflowers,” he said after a long pause. He reached down into the grass, running his fingers over the petals before plucking one and holding it out to me. “Among these fields, they look like they belong. No one would ever know they didn’t.”
I took the flower from his hand, its fragile stem delicate between my fingers. I held it up to the fading light and smelled it. “That’s how you feel?”
“Maybe,” he said, turning his attention back to the sky. “Maybe, sometimes, we find ourselves in places where we feel like we fit, even if we don’t really. But no one asks. No one has to know.”
I didn’t press him for more. It was enough to be there with him, surrounded by the beauty of the evening.
We both understood with he meant, even if the words hung unfinished between us.
There, in that field of wildflowers, was a kind of belonging we could both feel, something fleeting, like the sunlight that faded by the second.
The flowers, the sunset, the quiet of the evening, seemed to know that time, like everything else, was transient.
And we couldn’t hold on to it. As I lay there, I glanced up at Jackson again and wondered if he felt the same pull.
But he had turned his attention back to the horizon, his eyes tracing the colors of the fading sky.
We stayed there, in the growing dusk, watching the scenery change around us with each passing moment.
The sun dipped out of view, and dark clouds moved in.
A stillness wrapped around us, and that seemed to stretch forever, as if the world had slowed down just for us, to let us breathe in the beauty of the evening before everything changed.
Then, the air shifted, the warmth of the day replaced by a cool breeze that ruffled the wildflowers around us.
Jackson stood first, slow, almost reluctant, as if he didn’t want to leave.
He extended his hand to me, and I took it, letting him help me to my feet.
Just as I stood, the first raindrops fell.
A hurricane was coming.