Chapter 5: Old Roots, New Troubles

I brought Emily back to my parents’ house.

It was a two-story place with a big wraparound porch, white columns, and weathered rocking chairs. My dad still hung a faded American flag by the garage. The living room smelled like old wood and tomato vines. My mom’s favorite Ohio State mug was on the counter.

The old couple had lived in small-town Ohio all their lives but still kept a vegetable garden. The yard was full of green onions, chives, and whatever else they could coax out of the dirt.

Midwesterners love their homegrown produce. They say the supermarket stuff tastes like nothing. Only what you grow yourself is any good.

My mom used to come in with armfuls of tomatoes, making BLTs all summer, her hands stained with earth.

When I brought Emily in, my parents were thrilled—especially Dad, who grinned so wide I thought his dentures would pop out.

They’d never met Emily, but they knew she was pregnant with my kid. Ever since Mom heard Emily craved pineapple, she was convinced it had to be a boy. Old wives’ tales—sour for boys, spicy for girls.

For them, this was the best news. In their eyes, all my money meant nothing if there wasn’t a grandson to carry on the family name.

I felt the same. If I didn’t have a son, what was all the hustle for?

When they heard I’d given all our property to Rachel, they were floored.

Dad slammed the table and jumped up. “She’s gone too far! Ten years and not a single kid—delaying the Carter line—and she still dares take all my son’s property? No way. I’m getting it back.” He grabbed his battered ball cap, ready to storm out right then.

Mom was even more worked up. “That heartless woman—so shameless! If she can’t have children, she should just disappear. Why does she get so much of my son’s money? Joe, I’ll go with you. Let’s see if I don’t scratch her face!”

I jumped in, laying out my plan again. “All the agreements are signed, but the final divorce papers aren’t done yet. If you go after her now and she backs out, it’ll get messy.”

Mom poured herself a glass of sweet tea and muttered under her breath, but finally sat down. Dad shook his head, turned on the TV, and paced a bit, grumbling about how hard he’d worked for that house, then finally gave up.