Chapter 6: Beyond the Wheat Field

I made a silent vow to myself: I’d give her a better life, no matter what it took.

At another parent meeting, Mom stood at the front during the PTA night, obviously less awkward than the first time. A smile spread across her face, and faint wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes.

She spoke with confidence now, her voice strong and clear. I could see how proud she was, how far we’d both come.

"Look, I’m no teacher, but as long as students focus on learning like our Autumn, they can do just as well. I believe there are no dumb kids!"

Her words rang out, filling the room with hope. I saw other parents nodding, inspired by her conviction.

I don’t know when it started, but Mom began to have white hair and wrinkles on her face.

Time crept up on us, soft and relentless. I noticed it in the way she moved, a little slower, a little more careful.

Time flies. Nine years passed in a blink.

I just wished time would slow down. I didn’t want Mom to get old so quickly. If only it would tap the brakes.

I’d give anything for one more summer, one more evening sitting on the porch, listening to her stories.

When the high school entrance exam results came out, there were ten subjects, 780 points in total. I scored 738—it was a local placement score, not some national entrance test.

I stared at the number, barely able to believe it was real. All those late nights, all that hard work—it finally paid off.

I was first in my grade and third in the county.

The teachers congratulated me, my classmates stared in awe. For the first time, I felt like I truly belonged.

That score was enough for the city’s top high school.

Mom hugged me so tight I thought my ribs might crack. She cried, laughed, and cried again, her joy infectious.

Mom grinned from ear to ear. "I knew you could do it. Our Autumn was born to study."

She called every relative, every friend, telling them the news over and over. Her pride filled our little house.

Mrs. McCarthy said, "It’s just junior high. High school is really tough."

She tried to sound dismissive, but I could tell she was impressed. I smiled, letting her words roll off my back.

Mom glanced at her, "You said the same thing when Autumn was in elementary school."

She raised an eyebrow, daring Mrs. McCarthy to argue. The older woman just shrugged, unable to hide her smile.

Mom was happy and didn’t argue. She went to the chicken coop and picked the fattest hen.

She clucked to herself, proud as a peacock. A celebration was in order.

"Half for you and your brother, half for soup. It’s nutritious!"

She divvied up the chicken with practiced hands, making sure everyone got their share. It tasted better than any meal I’d ever had.

My brother and I each got a drumstick and a wing. Mom picked up a potato from her bowl, muttering,

She always claimed not to like meat, but I knew better. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, waiting to see if she’d sneak a bite later.

"I just don’t like meat. These stewed potatoes are delicious."

She smiled, but I caught her eyeing the chicken bones with longing. I made a mental note to leave more for her next time.

It wasn’t until I saw Mom eating the leftover chicken in the kitchen that I realized she actually loved meat.

I felt a pang of guilt, wishing I’d noticed sooner. From then on, my brother and I made sure to leave extra for her.

After that, my brother and I pretended we couldn’t eat that much meat.

We pushed our plates away, claiming to be full. Mom just shook her head, but I saw the gratitude in her eyes.

When more and more meat was left in the bowl, Mom frowned, "What’s wrong with you two? Not much appetite lately?"

She tried to sound annoyed, but I could tell she was secretly pleased. It became our little secret.

The next day, Mom wanted to take me to the hospital.

She fussed over me, checking my forehead for a fever. I laughed, insisting I was fine. She finally relented, but not without a warning.

"Mom, we’re really fine."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Alright, but don’t make me worry like that again.”

This became a secret between my brother and me.

We never spoke of it out loud, but we both knew—we’d do anything for Mom.

During the summer after the exam, I wanted to work on the assembly line for two months to help ease Mom’s burden.

I filled out applications, practiced my handshake, but Mom shut it down before I could even start.

But Mom refused. "Look at your skinny arms and legs. You’re not made for that kind of work. Just study at home."

She ruffled my hair, insisting I focus on school. I pretended to be annoyed, but I was secretly relieved.

As expected, the top magnet high school offered me a spot.

The acceptance letter arrived in the mail, thick and official. I ran my fingers over the embossed seal, barely able to believe it was real.

Three years of high school—no tuition, just living costs for commuting and boarding.

Mom danced around the kitchen, waving the letter like a victory flag. She couldn’t stop smiling.

Mom looked at my acceptance letter over and over again.

She read every word, tracing the school crest with her finger. I could see the pride shining in her eyes.

There was a soaring eagle printed on it—the school mascot.

She pointed it out to me, saying, “That’s you, Autumn. You’re going to fly.”

Mom smiled, "Our Autumn is like that eagle. How could a little mountain town keep her down!"

Her words echoed in my mind for days. I started to believe them, too.

At the time, I didn’t really understand what Mom meant.

I just nodded, tucking the letter away in my drawer. It felt like a ticket to a new world.

After dinner, Mom took my acceptance letter and walked around Maple Heights again and again.

She showed it off to anyone who would listen, her voice full of pride. The whole town knew by nightfall.

"Never seen a top high school’s letter? Look at the school in the picture—so grand! Only fits our Autumn!"

She laughed, teasing the neighbors. I blushed, embarrassed but happy.

Mrs. McCarthy teased, "High school is expensive. Be careful, you might spend a lot and Autumn might not get into college. My daughter says even a state college isn’t worth much. You have to get into one of those Ivy League schools, and then get a master’s to get a good job."

She meant well, but her words stung. I wondered if I’d ever be enough.

Mom looked proud and a little amused, hiding a smile. "What Ivy? Didn’t you know? Autumn’s high school tuition is free for three years! I just have to pay living expenses!"

She winked at me, her confidence contagious. I started to believe in myself a little more.

In less than an hour, the whole town knew.

People stopped us on the street, congratulating Mom. I felt like a celebrity, if only for a day.

During the two-month break, Mom smiled every day, always joking with me and my brother.

Our house was filled with laughter, the air light and easy. For once, it felt like nothing could go wrong.

"I even have more energy for work now!"

She’d say it every morning, her voice bright. I knew it was true—hope had given her new strength.

My brother looked up, a little excited.

He grinned, his eyes shining. It was the first time I’d seen him so happy in years.

He said, "Our Autumn is amazing, even better than I was. Study hard."

He squeezed my shoulder, his pride obvious. I beamed, promising to make him proud.

He added softly, "Study hard for both of us."

His words settled in my heart, a quiet promise I carried with me every day.

My brother seemed happier. He always asked me to push his wheelchair around the neighborhood.

We’d roll down the sidewalk, waving to neighbors, soaking up the sun. It was our time, just the two of us.

We walked from one end to the other, past a small river, the water rippling, stirring up waves in my heart.

The river sparkled in the sunlight, its current strong and steady. I felt a sense of peace, knowing we were moving forward together.

Then past a wheat field, a scene of harvest.

The golden stalks swayed in the breeze, promising a new beginning. I dreamed of the future, of all the places I’d go.

The next day, my brother borrowed his classmate’s books for me to preview high school lessons.

He stacked them on my desk, grinning. “You’ll get a head start,” he said. I dove in, eager to learn.

My brother was always like this. He didn’t talk much, but always quietly helped me remember so many things.

His love was quiet but steady, a constant presence in my life. I never took it for granted.

If Mom’s love was loud and obvious, my brother’s was like silent rain, quietly nourishing everything.

He didn’t need words to show he cared. His actions spoke for him, louder than anything he could say.

"Autumn, I never went to high school. From now on, you’ll have to rely on yourself."

He squeezed my hand, his eyes serious. I nodded, determined to make him proud.

Time passed in a flash, and soon it was time for school to start.

The summer slipped away, replaced by the crisp air of fall. I packed my bags, nerves buzzing in my stomach.

The night before, Mom started packing, muttering nonstop.

She fussed over every detail, making sure I had everything I needed. Her love was in every fold, every packed lunch, every word of advice.

"Here are the pickled veggies I made for you, and some leftover ham from last Christmas. I cooked it all. If you want to eat it at school, just take it out."

She wrapped each item carefully, her hands moving with practiced skill. I knew she was trying to give me a piece of home to take with me.

"And a box of milk, from the town councilman’s donation drive."