“And now my grandson has brought me home.”
Nate knelt beside her.
For a long moment, they simply held each other.
I stepped outside, overcome by emotion.
Beside the old cistern, red shoots were growing through the earth.
Later, Opal told me they were rhubarb plants her mother had planted in 1931.
They’d survived nearly a century.
Even when the family lost the farm, the plants continued returning every spring.
Opal also knew about the Easter gifts.
“I told Ronald he was wrong to leave you two out,” she admitted.
Nate looked down.
“We weren’t asking for money, Grandma.”
“I know.”
“We just wanted to matter as much as everyone else.”
She squeezed his hand.
Then she made another decision.
“Your father needs to see this place.”
The following Monday, Opal called Ron.
That Saturday, he arrived with Judy.
His truck slowed near the driveway.
Then stopped.
For nearly a minute, he remained on the road.
