She’s blocked me.
Getting dumped by women is kind of my thing. I mean, I don’t blame them. I’m a workaholic, I get tunnel vision, I forget dates, I’m boring. Friends and family call me a player because I cycle through relationships so fast, but ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, I’m the one who got left dangling in the wind.
But even though I’ve known this woman for less than twenty-four hours, the connection I felt with her was different. Deeper.
The disgust and dismay in her eyes were the final nail in the coffin for this job. I need to be a better man, even if it’s too late for her to see it.
Quit your job, lose the girl, what else could go wrong?
Then I remember. It’s almost Thanksgiving. I’ve promised to visit my grandparents’ farm for the holiday. I won’t be able to hide this news if I’m there in person. I’ll have to tell my grandfather.
Diane isn’t the only one who’ll be disappointed in me.
CHAPTER 3DIANE
Seven Months Later
When I turn off the county road and onto the tree-lined driveway of Bedd Fellows Farm, my tires crunching on the gravel, the sun peeks out between the clouds, and I’m tempted to pull over and start shooting B-roll. The property owners have already signed releases online, and the perfectly aligned rows of bright green soybean plants covering the rolling hills on either side of me glisten from recent showers like they’re preening for the camera.
If I stop, I’ll be late, so I make myself continue up the drive. Over the final rise, I’m rewarded with the sight of a picture-perfect gabled farmhouse. Slowing my approach, I tuck away the combination of nerves and anticipation that’s been buzzing through me all morning. I’m finally starting to get comfortable with my equipment, but this video business is all still pretty new. I love meeting new people and talking to them, but it’s nice to have a personal connection at Bedd Fellows. You never know what you’re going to find when you roll up to meet a new interview subject.
Like the old guy who was, unfortunately, as stinky as he was knowledgeable about heirloom peas. Or the woman who aimed a shotgun at me until she remembered that she’d invited me to her property. Mostly, though, I’m heartily welcomed by people eager to share their stories.
Colleen Bedd and I were both members of Vassar SEED—Students for Equitable Environmental Decisions—though she was a few years behind me. When we reconnected at an alum event a few weeks ago and she heard about my new project, she invited me to visit, thinking I might like to interview her grandmother.
Lost in thought, I have to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a sheep that’s appeared in the middle of the driveway. I’m practically at the house, and the sheep doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere, so I just put my car in park and get out.
“Hi there… sheepie,” I say, looking around for a dog. I’m almost always greeted or warned off by a farm dog, but maybe the sheep is this home’s guard animal?
I don’t know if sheep can be aggressive, so I take the long way around the car, grabbing my smaller equipment bag in case Mrs. Bedd wants to jump right in on the interview. Since I started my YouTube channel “Seeds of Change,” I’ve learned that people usually share the most interesting tidbits before things get official.
The front steps creak as I mount them, but it’s a gorgeous old place. Classic white clapboard with black trim, it’s got a wide, wraparound porch, welcoming rocking chairs, and a swing nestled between planters. But it’s the building next to the house that catches my attention. Curious, I drift past the picture window to check it out. Is it a playhouse? A fancy tool shed?
“It’s quite the spectacle, huh?” Colleen asks from behind me.
“Oh!” Whipping around, I just manage to save my equipment from spilling out of my bag.
“Sorry to scare you,” Colleen says with a sly grin, not looking terribly sorry.
Hand to chest, I let out a breath. “I shouldn’t have been snooping. I just couldn’t help—” Breaking off, I wave a hand at the side building. “Did you play there when you were a kid?”
Colleen shakes her head. “Nah, it’s only five or six years old.”
She doesn’t provide further clues, so I ask. “For the grandchildren, then?”
“Nope.” I didn’t spend a lot of time hanging out with Colleen at school, but I can read the hint of mischief in her eyes. She’s fucking with me.
“Ah, so it’s a…” I cast my gaze across the yard, looking for the most ridiculous possibility, and it lands on the animal still parked in front of my car, still chewing its cud, or whatever sheep do. “House for the sheep?”
Colleen snorts. “Wow. Nobody ever guesses that fast.”
“Riiight.” Now I know she’s screwing with me. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”
She just shrugs, holding back a smile. “My grandparents had a special relationship.”
Not sure I want to know what that means, especially with regards to the sheep, I remember she told me of her grandfather’s passing at the end of last year. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. It’s been tough.” She sighs, and the energy seems to drain out of her. “Come on and meet Gran. She’s in the garden.”
“The light is perfect right now. Okay if I start filming?”
Colleen shrugs. “Fine with me.”
She leads me around the side of the house, past the building where the sheep supposedly lives, and beyond an impressive compost pile before stopping at a gate. Colleen nods at the tall fence as she opens it. “We have a lot of deer.”
I almost feel like I’m entering the Secret Garden as I follow her through the gate. It’s not a fussy, formal place with mazes and roses, but it is beautifully laid out. Well-kept plots burst with produce: summer squashes, pole beans and cucumber. Tomatoes as big as your head and as small as a thimble.
Speechless, I take my time weaving up and down rows, zooming in on a yellow and green striped melon here, following a bee as it pollinates a zucchini blossom there.
“I’m sure the birds and the bees have plenty to say about seeds. If only you knew their language,” a woman with a slightly raspy voice says from behind me.
Turning, I find a grandma straight out of central casting grinning at me… until she sees the phone I’ve instinctively aimed at her. “We starting this already? But I haven’t done my makeup!”
She’s got me going for a few beats, and then I see the same exact expression Colleen beamed at me when she tried to convince me that the sheep lived in that monstrosity next to the house. Rolling my eyes, I grin. “You got me.”
“If you can’t laugh at life, then it’s not worth living is what I say.” Mrs. Bedd flicks a hand at my phone. “You can point that thing at me if you want. Hopefully I won’t break it.”
