Keeper of the Seed

By Rachel Benson Gifford

Some secrets are worth dying for...Sarah's are worth fighting for...
When you grow up on a small farm in Cottonwood, Arkansas, you expect your life to be uncomplicated. That’s the way it was for Sarah, a down-to-earth girl, satisfied to live in the shadow of her brilliant brother Ben. She was simply the lanky girl who played basketball. But when Sarah visited Ben in Lubbock during spring break and met Tim Randall—life’s simplicities were forever changed. Now, fifteen years later, Sarah’s bond with her brother is gone and the sudden death of her husband has turned her world upside down. When Sarah receives word that her brother, now a renowned cottonseed breeder and research professor at Texas Tech University, is missing and his graduate assistant has been murdered, Sarah responds with a vengeance. She is confused and a little worried when a package arrives addressed to her brother and immediately heads to Texas to unravel the mystery. Sarah faces more confusion when she is reunited with Tim Randall—now an FBI agent investigating the case. Their quest for answers reveals Ben’s involvement in high stakes developments that could impact farming worldwide and potentially cost billions to current patent holders in seed and chemical markets. With so much at stake, Sarah fears for her brother’s life and ultimately her own. The search for her brother takes Sarah across the ocean to her father's homeland of Sweden—forcing her to face skeletons and feelings from her past while hesitantly trying to determine her future course. Sarah must learn to deal with grief and loss as she forges ahead in a life suddenly full of adventure and danger. Can she protect those she loves most without causing more hurt in the process? As the cotton grows and blossoms, can Sarah let go of the past to overcome her sorrow and guilt and finally reap her own personal harvest?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel Benson Gifford
• Release date: Dec 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301699452

Rachel Benson Gifford

Rachel Benson Gifford is an Associate Vice President at Arkansas Northeastern College in Blytheville where she oversees the Marketing and Development Offices. She holds a Bachelor's Degree in Communications and a Master's Degree in Mass Communication with a major in Journalism. She is an avid reader who also loves to write and has taken her journalistic experience to a new level in the writing of Keeper of the Seed--her first novel. An Arkansas native, Rachel resides in the northeast corner of the state in the Mississippi River Delta area where agriculture is a prominent part of the economy. Having grown up on a cotton farm, she appreciates her rural heritage and enjoys writing stories with a southern angle. When she's not working or writing, she enjoys watching basketball and baseball. She and her husband Scott have two children, Miles and Meg

Book preview

By Rachel Benson Gifford

KEEPER OF THE SEED

Published by Rachel Benson Gifford

Smashwords Edition

ISBN# 9781301699452

Copyright © 2012 by Rachel Benson Gifford.

All rights reserved.

Edited by Sheiron Bearden.

Cover design by Ammi Tucker.

Cover photography by Rachel Benson Gifford.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locals, or events is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About the Author

Contact the Author

Acknowledgements

A great big Thank You to Ammi Tucker of Ammi Tucker Designs for lending her technological savvy to Keeper of the Seed. Not only did she provide the formatting to allow the e-publishing of this book, she designed the cover, and developed a marketing plan to help publicize this book and its sequel—Seedlings. I appreciate her willingness to contribute her talents toward the promotion of my story more than words can express.

I must thank my friend Ginger Berry who sat with me during one of my son’s baseball practices and helped me conceive the initial characters and a plotline. Though the story evolved greatly from that initial concept, her vision and encouragement helped ignite the fire that became Keeper of the Seed.

Thanks to my dear friend Tina McMechen for reading all 535 pages of the first draft of this book and not hating me for it. She helped me revise the storyline to be more believable—and more concise, and I appreciate her kind but truthful evaluation of my early work on the book.

My brother Ray, a cotton farmer and agronomist who has worked with several world renowned cottonseed breeders, was my own personal reference guide to the process of cottonseed breeding and the world surrounding it. He patiently explained the scientific practice in a way that I could understand and I enjoyed visiting with him about possible storylines.

I also want to thank my friend and science instructor Layne Rayder for her excellent explanation of seed development from germination to growth. Additionally, her insight into enzyme function was especially helpful in determining the story’s ending.

I would also like to say a very special thank you to Sheiron Bearden for her unwavering support. From beginning to end, she has been an ardent believer in the charm of this story. Providing proofing and creative suggestions at every stage of the development—from the first draft to the tenth rewrite—she enthusiastically pushed me to continue Sarah and Tim’s story. Without her motivation and encouragement, this story would still be words on my computer. If no one else comes to love Keeper of the Seed, it was still worth writing just for Sheiron.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this story to my children Miles and Meg who make each day worth living.

Chapter 1

I was thinking of my Swedish family when I pulled into a parking spot, gathered my attaché case, and headed for the office. Sweden, and the secrets it held for me, were always a part of my thoughts. Today was like most every other day, as the horrific last year of my life replayed through my head while I engaged in minimal office duties. I was just in the middle of checking my e-mails when the phone rang.

Hello… Sarah White, I spoke.

Hey Sarah, it’s Collin, came the familiar voice of our mailroom clerk. I always thought it was ironic that FedEx had a mailroom, never mind the fact that much of our mail came in via the US Postal Service. Collin was the mail distributor for our office building as well as the supply clerk—perfect set up because both services shared a large space on the bottom floor with a large dock and substantial storage.

Oh, hey Collin. What’s up?

Well, you’ve sort of got a package here.

Sort of?

Yeah, well…it’s a heavy box from the Universidad de Costa Rica and addressed to a Dr. Ben Ericsson, but in care of you at our address here. His accent as he pronounced the University of Costa Rica would have been funny if I had not been so confused by the entirety of his information.

That’s strange.

Do you know a Dr. Ben Ericsson?

Not so much anymore, I answered honestly, somewhat taken aback by the news. Ben’s my brother. He lives in Lubbock, Texas.

Oh, he said surprised. A doctor huh, cool. Would you like me to bring this up to you? I can take it to your vehicle if you want, ‘cause it’s kinda heavy, Sarah.

I wondered if Collin would have been as impressed if he knew my brother held a Ph.D. in plant physiology rather than an MD. Does it say what it is?

No.

Um, let me call my brother and find out why he’s getting packages at my workplace. Will it be okay just to leave it down in the supply room until I find out what to do with it?

Sure, I’ll leave a sticky note on it so that no one will bring it up to your office ‘til you say to.

Thanks Collin.

After hanging up, I decided to call my brother to solve the mystery of the heavy package from Costa Rica. We hadn’t talked in months, so the arrival of a package at work was even more baffling. After four rings, the answering machine picked up with no elaborate message, just my brother’s voice saying, Not in…leave your number and I’ll call back.

Feeling a little irritated by not only the mystery mail, but also the abrupt message, I decided to be just as direct. I reeled off my ten digit cell phone number. Then, in reference to his message’s promise of calling back, I added a disbelieving, We’ll see.

He rarely returned calls, so I rarely made them anymore. I was also irritated that he would have something shipped to me at work without prior notice, much less approval. I was sure it was some research thing. He probably wanted me to hand deliver the package to some special lab in Memphis, but a little direction would be nice. Maybe it was a gift? Maybe he was planning to be in Memphis himself? Whatever, I didn’t have time to ponder the odd nuances of my eccentric brother.

###

After another long day, I laid back in the warm bath water letting all but my nose submerge. The sound of my breathing was magnified by the water surrounding my ears. I squinted my closed eyes in a vain effort to push my memories outside the sound of the muffled breaths. For a few brief moments, I could block them. But the moments were far too brief for real comfort, and then the searing pain was back. I counted each breath with exaggerated focus and wished that the water would wash away the knowledge surrounding me. I wanted to lift myself from the tub and let my sorrow, my grief, my reality swirl down the drain with the clouded water.

It had been almost a year ago that I found myself both widowed and orphaned, and it had happened in a span of just four short years. How could this be? Truly the past fifteen years have dealt me more blows than I would have thought possible to handle.

I remember so vividly the first real death experience that was so hard to accept. The cancer had only taken nine months to rip my mother out of my life. Now, a year after my husband’s death, I continue to struggle to just get through this hollow life with a sense of purpose. In an extremely selfish way, I have always been grateful that my mother had not died suddenly, unexpectedly. At a cost to her of much pain, I was able to spend hours of quality time with her, helping her, saying all the things to her that I wanted to say, showing her how much I loved her.

Sudden death is worse…just too painful. Horrid shock can cut through a person’s heart much deeper than the slow realization of impending loss. There is no time for healing to begin as the cut continues to deepen. Just like jumping into cold water can cause cardiac arrest while easing into the same water is just staggeringly uncomfortable. I have lived through both—easing into the water and being shoved into it, and now I feel like the after-affect is drowning me. It is a year later and the shock still surfaces.

My dad died just three years after my mother…her cancer killed him too. His misery in a life without her made his death almost a blessing…or maybe I was just still numb, over losing her, to really feel. Thinking of my mother always brings me back to the piercing truth that she was far better in that role than I can ever be. If only I had been strong enough years ago to deserve the gifts I had been given, then maybe the latest fate would be different. Still, love and life don’t always seem to blend well together, and I cannot undo my past.

Only the two little faces with his brown eyes and the dream of another held me above the water. I would not leave them too. I had no idea of anything else, but of that I was completely sure. I wrapped my mind around their faces and closed my eyes. My children had been my buoy in this ocean of despair. They held me afloat when everything else sank. I inhaled deeply at the firmness of that thought—an act which almost negated it. Instantly my mouth opened and water burned my nostrils and raped my lungs. I splashed myself upright and croaked out a series of coughs that sent water spewing from my mouth and nose. My throat seared and my ears popped. I must have been flaying loudly in the huge tub because I suddenly felt someone grasp my shoulders, pull me forward roughly, and begin beating my back.

Sarah! BREATHE!

I shook, maybe because the upper portion of my body was so suddenly introduced to the cool air of the room or maybe from the fear of what had just happened. Either way, I was very much awake and no longer in my reverie.

I’m okay, I coughed. I must have drifted to sleep, I said hoarsely as I tried to cover myself with a wash cloth.

She sighed deeply, concern registering in her piercing blue eyes, I was just coming to check on you, thank God. Are you sure you’re okay?

Yeah, I forced a tight smile for my best friend. Thanks Meredith, I added as I glanced at her sitting on the edge of my bathtub with her shirt soaking wet.

She sighed and rose from her seat before heading to the linen closet where she retrieved a towel for herself and another one for me.

An Agent Cooley stopped by. He left his card…said that he wanted to speak with you. She looked concerned as she turned to the vanity to look in the mirror and began wiping her shirt, offering me a bit of privacy. While her back was to me, I stood and wrung out my hair, wrapped the towel around my body and stepped out of the tub.

What did he want? I asked, baffled.

She shrugged, He said he was following up on a Lubbock case and was looking for Ben. It didn’t’ seem urgent.

They’re probably in need of an agricultural expert for some kind of trial, I guessed.

I have no idea, but he left his card just in case you hear from him.

You know, a package for Ben was sent to my office today, I said as I considered the coincidence.

Really, what was it? She asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. I don’t know. It’s addressed to Ben. It’s still in the mailroom. I tried to call him to find out what it was, but naturally he didn’t answer.

I’d open it before I called Agent Cooley…just to see what it is.

Did you tell him about the letter? I asked.

No, she said. Maybe you should try Ben…

No. I left him a message, I sighed, squeezing the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. What time is it anyway?

She had turned to lean against the vanity, facing me now. It’s around nine. She tilted her head as if she were inspecting my reaction. You okay, really?

Yeah, I laughed with no humor.

So, what now? she asked softly.

I’ve got work to do, I said.

Sarah, that’s all you’ve done for the past year. Don’t you think it’s time to take a little break?

Well, at least I can do most of it from home. I don’t think I could make that drive to Memphis everyday anymore. I sighed. It’s too much for you to keep coming here too. I said to my best friend who had spent every bit of her free time running to tend to me and the kids.

She smiled softly, It’s been almost a year, and you’re getting worse rather than better. I’m here as an intervention, and I’m here as long as you need me.

Intervention can’t bring the dead back to life—it won’t help me, I chided, but then offered my gratitude. I’ll never be able to tell you how much I appreciate you, and I promise to get out of this funk. It’s just that time was supposed to be the healer of all things bad, and I think it actually makes things worse.

She nodded, Well, maybe we can do something tomorrow to take your mind off things…We have plans, she said excitedly.

Tomorrow is Friday, we have to work.

I’ve already talked with Roy and you have the day off, just like I do.

No photo-shoot tomorrow? I asked my carefree photographer friend.

The beauty of being self-employed—you can take time off whenever you want. She laughed. She hadn’t felt the need to use her teaching degree after college. Instead, she chose a career in something she enjoyed. It was quite a switch for her in the beginning. As a former beauty queen, she had always been on the other side of the camera, but her artistry in her chosen career was evident. She was an excellent photographer bringing high wages and staying as busy as she wanted.

Okay, I agreed. A day with you is always a pleasure, and I could use some time off, I guess. True and loyal, Meredith was more than a friend. She was a sister. I smiled my thanks and watched as she heaved herself away from the vanity and headed toward the door.

You’re not alone. You know that, it was a statement spoken matter of fact. I’m here for you, and….you still have Ben you know.

Why did she have to always bring the subject back to Ben? Don’t, I said firmly. Aside from a few holiday visits, contact with my brother had been limited to cordial formalities for the past fifteen years. We were no longer close. I missed my brother, I missed everything.

I thought back to the last time I saw him—at my husband’s funeral. Ben had come from Lubbock and stoically stood with me and my six year old twins Luke and Bess as the preacher tried to bring closure to a life too early. As soon as the service was over, Ben left without a return visit and only a call just before Christmas. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I received an odd letter from him.

Sarah,

I am so very sorry about the cards you’ve been dealt. I know it still hurts. I think about you all often and want so badly to come see you and the kids, but there are some things going on here that prevent me from doing so. I wish I could explain, and I will try to later. I’m still sorry about Christmas, I was in South America. I wish I could see you, but you’ve been through enough and I don’t want you to have to endure any additional pressure because of me.

Wasn’t life so easy when we were kids? I often think of our summers and all the peace and serenity that we had. Carl von Linné had quite a home! It’s a beautiful heritage we have. Try to think of the beautiful memories, Sis, maybe they can bring you some happiness as you continue to cope with your loss. I do love you.

Ben

The words were a mystery. Reliving our summer trips to my father’s homeland of Sweden was an odd thing for him to write about. Or maybe it wasn’t. It had been so long since we had really talked, that I didn’t think I knew him anymore. Maybe years in a lab had finally taken its toll on his sanity. At any rate, I couldn’t process it right now. My own mind was teetering on the verge of lunacy without me trying to understand the minutiae of my only brother.

Okay, get some rest. Meredith said as she left the room.

Certainly I counted her friendship as one of my greatest blessings. Steadfast and strong, she and I had bonded our first year of college and the friendship had endured its fair share of hardships. My children may be the buoy keeping me afloat, but Meredith was the lifeline reeling me to shore and pulling me out of the water.

After she left, I looked down at myself in disgust. Over the years, inactivity had changed my body from its once athletic frame, to an out of shape gob. Although I had gained a good thirty pounds since college, it had all dropped off over the past year. My desire, to attend to my body, however, had died long ago.

My dingy, muddy- red hair was a far cry from the once shiny, sun-streaked auburn that used to frame my face. And my face…it no longer reflected a natural glow. There was no longer even a hint that I had once been a lifeguard, an athlete, a health junkie. Now, my green eyes were just lost in the dark circles surrounding them, and my skin looked harsh. What had I done to myself? No, what had I not done to myself? Everything, I sighed.

At just an inch shy of six feet tall, I had spent the greater part of my life as an athlete. From the time I was a child, I enjoyed playing outdoors with my brother and his friends. His two years age advantage didn’t cause him to exclude me from his life as it often does siblings. Maybe he included me because we lived out in the country where any type of human contact was appreciated, even if it was your lanky, little sister.

Ben and I could never have passed for siblings. We stood about the same height—tall for a girl, and average for a guy. He was always a bit stout growing up, while I had been very thin. His deep chestnut hair was more beautiful than anything that could be produced from a bottle. He favored my mother and had her beautiful golden brown eyes, but I was more of a mixture of my parents—a true mixture, not having individual features of either but a blend of features. My mother had a darker skin tone while my father was fair, and I was a blend of the two with a medium golden complexion. My brother and I looked nothing alike, but we had always been close…had been.

Playing softball and basketball, running track and swimming, I had been the poster child for healthy living. But the day my collegiate career as a basketball player ended, so did my workouts. Now here I sit, in my beautiful bathroom in my beautiful house with my beautiful children asleep in their beautiful bedrooms as my beautiful friend ponders a way to help me. Sitting here surrounded by so much beauty, I feel so ugly.

I stood and slipped on a soft robe. I took a deep sigh and left the marble walls behind me. As I opened the double doors that led into the master suite, my eyes were drawn to a flashing red light on the nightstand. I rarely checked the answering machine—that was usually something that he would do, but the past year had begun the process of teaching me a new kind of norm. So, for whatever reason, I perched myself on the edge of the bed and leaned over the answering machine to push the little red button.

Sarah... Electricity ran through me at the sound of the voice, which by all rights, should be foreign to me by now. I’m trying to reach Sarah Ericsson…um, White. Sarah, this is Tim…Tim Randall. If this is the right number, Sarah, can you please return my call? My heart stopped each time I heard my name come from the machine. My number is … I listened as he reeled off the ten digit number. Sarah, I know it’s been a long time…umm, I…it’s just really important that I talk with you. Sarah, please call me back. There was a sense of urgency to the message that left me spinning.

What in the world! My head began to swim, and I struggled to make sense of the strange call. The air burned my throat as I breathed and the room turned fuzzy. It had been more than fifteen years since I last heard that voice. I was still trying to process it, when I heard her clear her throat. I turned to see Meredith, at the bedroom door, wide eyes glaring into mine.

Oh. My. God. She spoke each word slowly, softly. Are you, she paused to clear her throat again, going to call him back?

I couldn’t answer. I had to run back to the white marble room to throw up.

Chapter 2

Just Over a Year Earlier

Saturdays are always fun when Alan is home. So, today should be a good day…a family day. I watched from the kitchen as the kids ate their cereal at the coffee table in front of the flat screen television in the den. When I began to unload the dishwasher, I heard a sweet little yell of joy.

Yea! Daddy’s back, called Bess as she hopped up and ran to meet Alan’s waiting hug. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and still had on his work boots. His tan arms displayed well defined muscles, and his wide shoulders tapered down to a thin, lean waist. Probably his only physical quirk was the fact that he sported a true farmer’s tan. He looked very much like a modern day Marlboro Man, minus the cowboy hat. Tall, tan, rugged and utterly handsome, he smiled and the faint crow’s feet around his eyes gave testimony to his longs days in the sun.

How’s my girl this morning? His southern voice was deep and filled with love. He leaned to kiss the top of her head.

Good, daddy. Her brown eyes were sparkling behind long thick lashes as she looked up at him. She was beautiful—just like him. Her thick, dark hair was smooth and curled just under her pointy little chin. Her full lips were pink and stayed in a constant pucker. She was gorgeous by anyone’s standard.

And what about you Bud? He called to Luke who still sat quietly watching SpongeBob. The resemblance between the two children, and their father for that matter, was uncanny. I must have recessive genes, because it was hard to find me anywhere in their little faces. Good, my little boy nodded for his dad without taking his eyes off the television.

Luke, by far the more reserved of the twins, usually allowed Bess do his talking. He learned early on that she would do his talking, and everyone else’s for that matter, and succumbed to his role as the more serious, silent type. His hair, though the same color as Bess’, had a little wave to it and curled up slightly at the back of his neck. He was every bit as beautiful as she.

Hey Bud, let’s see what’s on ESPN, Alan said to Luke as he sat down and began changing the channels.

Okay, Luke said and got up to bring me his empty cereal bowl. I’m gonna go play my Wii anyway.

Bess followed him to his room and, naturally, left her half empty cereal bowl on the table. I could hear her stating her demands for which games to play, her mouth running at its usual nonstop pace. Luke was disagreeing with her choice, but she was arguing her point frantically.

So, what do you think they’ll play? I asked my husband who was smiling at their exchange.

Whatever she wants, he replied, Why make life harder than it has to be?

We hovered around the house most of the day with Alan periodically going outside to check on different things. He could never be still as he was always working on something. We built our farmhouse, next to my parents, just in time to move in before the twins made their appearance. Now, though, we were left with two houses and three acres of yards to manage. It had been perfect in the beginning. My mother helped me tend to two tiny babies, and then I helped her tend to life with cancer.

I hurt her so much during my life that I can only hope that my sincere devotion to her as she died might somehow diminish the disappointing past. But, that’s not why I did it. I truly loved my mother; and the truth is, as much as I wanted her forgiveness and approval, I would probably never give it to myself. Somewhere along the way though, I must have made some kind of amends for previous sins, because I was blessed with an adoring husband and wonderful, healthy children. Alan had danced into my life and helped me find a little merit in my existence.

Why did he love me as he did? From the day our paths first crossed, he had been blind to my faults. I was obviously broken, but he did not see it. He was like a kid who knew no better, and I was like a used toy at a yard sale that he bought and loved because it was new to him. He treated me with respect, like a lady. He took me to fine restaurants and movies. He took me to his hometown to attend football games, so that he could show me off to his friends. He went to church with me every Sunday. He was never less than a gentleman. I had been scared to allow myself to become involved with him, but he was patient and persistent.

It took him three dates to finally kiss me. It was a sweet kiss—not passionate, but soft and light. I had heard his heightened breath and mentally prepared for a more aggressive follow-up, but he just pulled away and smiled. He was willing to take things slowly. I was attracted to him, but I knew I did not deserve him, and I was very fearful of allowing myself to love anyone at that point in my life. He put me on a pedestal for which I was not worthy, and it made me uncomfortable.

After several months of dating, I decided that I had to be honest with him.

You deserve better than me, I had said.

That’s not true, he sighed.

Yes it is. You’re too good to be stuck with me. I try, but…

He interrupted, I think you’re as pure as the driven snow, he had said smiling, and I violently shook my head.

NO…NO, I am not! I argued, but he just smiled unconvinced.

Listen, I quietly said as I placed my hand over his mouth, not letting him interject anything. We were sitting on a bench in the park where we had been feeding the ducks and watching children play. You don’t know everything about me. I’m…I’m not the woman you think…I am. I was having a hard time explaining without exposing skeletons from my closet.

He pulled my hand away from his mouth and kissed it. Whatever it is that you’ve done, that makes you feel like such a despicable person… well, it just doesn’t matter to me, he said softly without releasing my hand. I’ve never seen someone so determined to hate herself. His lips pressed together firmly.

I started to object, but he interrupted, Whatever it is, let it go, he almost whispered. I don’t care. He smiled and looked at me with too much fervor. I love you Sarah.

Okay, there it was. He finally said what I already knew. Could God really be sending him to me? Had I not prayed for this very thing? In that instant I made a decision. I would accept this blessing because I would live to earn his adoration, but for now I would just be completely honest.

I…love you too, I said and my voice broke. But you need to know the real me. While I was in college, I…

Stop, he cut me off mid-sentence, his smile wide. It was like he was elated over my initial response and hell-bent on hearing nothing else. Surely he had expected that I felt the same?

I do know you. He continued, I’ve watched you so intently for five months that I’ve been like an obsessive stalker. I’ve watched how everyone around you notices your beauty but you. I’ve watched as you do kind things for everyone but yourself. I’ve watched as you’ve tried to protect me from you, he laughed at the idiocy of his own words, but he couldn’t stop the flow, and I’ve watched as you’ve gradually started to trust me. I think I know the ‘real you’ better than you do, and I’m just relieved to know that you could love me too.

That was how we truly became we. It was a beautiful, honorable relationship. We married less than a year later in a small ceremony with only our parents, Meredith, and Ben present. Alan, putting his agriculture degree to use, had taken over my father’s farm while I flourished as a computer programmer. Within three years of marriage, I was pregnant, working for Federal Express an hour away in Memphis, and building a new home with my merciful husband.

He fit into my family and my community with ease. The little town of Cottonwood, Arkansas, population of four thousand accepted Alan White with open arms and was better for it. He let his Tennessee ties loosen when he migrated across the Mississippi River and found his new home. The Volunteer had become a Razorback as he traded his orange shirts and Good Ole Rocky Top for red and white and memorable times of calling the hogs. A sellout of this magnitude could only occur for love or money, and I had had no money.

Alan helped me create a new reality for myself—one where I wasn’t a horrible person, one that provided me with happiness. I still had occasional pangs of guilt from my past, but Alan gave me a new sense of self value. He made my life worth living. He brought out the best in me and gave me much more in life than I could ever return. With all my heart, I hoped that I made him happy.

Sarah? He interrupted my trip down memory lane. I want to talk to you about something.

We were in the den where he had been watching television. The kids were playing outside, and we could see them through the windows framing the fireplace. He stood, and he was holding an envelope in his hands.

I’ve got something for you…well, something for all of us, he said.

Really? I smiled. What is it?

I think we need a break. I’ve been so busy…so focused on implementing this precision agriculture process into our farming operation that I know I’ve neglected you and the kids.

I cut him off, You implemented precision agriculture? I asked jokingly.

I had finally sold him on how precision agriculture would benefit our farm because its technologies helped with site specific farming. I had encouraged Alan to implement the concept into our farming practice to save money and to be more environmentally responsible.

A little studying about what you have can help you better take care of it…it can lead to higher production at a lower cost, I had said. You just have to put forth a little effort and make decisions based on research and knowledge rather than a shotgun approach to the whole operation. God, was I starting to sound like my brother?

It had been more daunting than I had imagined, but he was starting to get the hang of it. I set up the technology and he did the grid and soil sampling and entered his data, then I ran his reports.

I know you’ve had a hard time since your parents died…we all have, he continued, ignoring my comment. Anyway, you just work all the time. You never see Ben or even talk to him anymore. I just think maybe you need a break—a chance to rest and reconnect.

Reconnect? What are you talking about? I was confused.

He just continued, I know that we’ve wanted to take a vacation, but with the kids in school there’s really no time but the summer…

And you’re in the fields in the summer, I finished the sentence.

Yeah, well…I decided that maybe this year I can let Vick and Les help me out for a little while. That way, we can have some real family time. Sammy will stay here and look after the animals.

That sounds great, I said with admiring thoughts of the brothers who farmed the land adjacent to ours and the responsible teenage boy from our church.

Sounds like you’ve thought of everything, I said. So, where should we go? I asked, knowing that he had a destination in mind.

Well, he paused, for it to be real family time….I was thinking…it should be Sweden.

I was already shaking my head in disagreement.

Why not, Sarah? It’s the only family you really have left. I know you miss them. I want to know them better. Then he played on my guilt. Don’t you want us to know your family—our family?

My face was burning, my heart was aching, and I wanted to go so badly that I could taste it. But, I also didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to dig up buried secrets, especially not with Alan and the kids. I hadn’t been to Sweden in years.

I’ve already talked to Nils and Vendula and they are so excited. Let’s do this. Luke and Bess would love it. He was energized by the mere prospect.

You’ve talked to Nils? I asked in disbelief.

Yes, and Vendula too.

Certainly he knew my dad’s brother and sister-in-law; they had even been here to visit a couple of times since I had married Alan, but not since my dad had passed away. My relationship with Nils was a bit strained, or at least I had felt the tension when we were last together. But what about now, would it be a mistake to go? I missed Vendula and my cousins. I missed speaking Swedish.

Maybe now was a good time to go. We all have to face our demons sometime and maybe now I had the strength. I knew this day would come. I had wanted this day to come. I think maybe I was ready.

I smiled, Okay, I’ll talk with Roy Monday…see about scheduling. When did you have in mind?

He was absolutely beaming. The end of May—just as soon as we get the cotton planted. Here’s the itinerary from the travel agency. We leave the twenty-fourth.

What? I gasped.

He laughed. I wasn’t going to let you say no. And, by the way, your boss hopes we have a great time. His face was gleaming.

You’ve already worked this out…and with Roy? I asked in disbelief.

He walked to me and placed his arms around my waist, pulling