They had been desultorily packing ever since they had come back to Athens following Tom’s funeral, but now the time had come to finish it up. They hadn’t been able to work on it during the weekends, since after about mid-March they had gotten into the Sunbird after their last class on Fridays and headed for Willow Lake, usually getting there in time for Ken to spend at least a couple of hours on a tractor that night.

There was a lot of work on a tractor that Judy could do, too and she spent most of her Saturdays and Sundays on a tractor seat as well, except for the time they spent in church. The tractor wasn’t always the old Farmall she had driven the past couple summers; on one of his better days, Chet had taken time to rig hand controls on the 4630 and the old Ford used as a loader, as well.

Judy found she loved driving the big John Deere. Its cab was comfortable, with both shade and a heater and an air conditioner, along with the tape player that Tom had installed. She didn’t get to drive the machine very often, because much of the work that had to be done with it was still beyond her, but both Ken and Chet took the time necessary to teach her to do some of the simpler chores.

When there weren’t fields to till or fertilize, Judy and Lydia worked at going through what had been Tom and Carolyn’s house, across the road from the Sorensen farm. The house had once belonged to Chet’s brother, Ed, and he had intended to farm the land that went with it. After coming back from Korea, Ed wasn’t up to farming, so Chet had taken over the farm work while Ed lived there. When he died, Chet took over the farm and the house, and it had made a reasonable, if small, house for Tom and Carolyn after they married.

The house had never been kept up well while Ed owned it, and as Carolyn had not proved to be much of a housekeeper; it needed a lot of work. After Carolyn left, Chet managed to spend a few hours fixing things and Judy’s father came out and did a lot of work on it. Lydia spent a lot of time cleaning it up, but there would still be much to do after Ken and Judy moved in.

Brought out of his reveries pulling into the Athens apartment parking lot, Ken walked inside and found Judy sitting on a pile of boxes. "How did we accumulate that much stuff in less than six months?" he asked.

"Beats me," she replied. "I know it came up here a carload at a time, and it never seemed like much."

Ken looked again and shook his head. "There’s wedding presents here we’ve never opened," he said.

"You still want to get out of here this afternoon?" she asked. "It’ll be after dark before we get down to the farm."

"I’d love to stay over," Ken said. "But we’re already behind schedule. There’s corn waiting to be planted, and the weather looks like it ought to be pretty decent for the next few days. I’m glad we got the oats in last weekend."

Judy picked up her crutches and got to her feet. The last weekend had been rough; they hadn’t gotten back to Athens until long after midnight, and she’d drilled Ken on his finals every inch of the way back. She felt like she’d struggled through her own; her heart hadn’t been in her studying. "I hope we can get it all in the pickup," she said. "I hate to have you doing all the carrying."

"Can’t be helped," Ken shrugged. "That’s one of the things I knew I’d have to accept when I married you."

"Are you still glad you did?"

"Dumb question," he smiled as he picked up a box at random. "Of course I am."

Judy had learned a lot about what went on around the Sorensen farm in the couple of summers she had spent around the place, but now that she was there all the time, she found that there was much more to do than she imagined.

For instance, she had never done anything with the beef cattle; the feeding and other chores had always been done by others. Now, Chet taught her how to use the Ford loader to grind and mix feed on the system he’d cobbled together over the years, and haul feed and silage to the cattle in the loader bucket. She learned how to change loader buckets, then scrape the loafing shed of manure, load it into the manure spreader, and haul it to a field and broadcast it.

At first, it took her a long time, not only because of needing practice, but for the need to get on and off the loader repeatedly to throw a switch or a lever. In time, Ken and Chet gradually modified the arrangement, by things like ropes and springs, and moving switches to where she could drive under them so she could do virtually everything from the tractor seat. After that, it only took her half the time of before – time that could be put to other things.

It seemed to Judy as if they would never get done with corn planting; they had more than 500 acres to plant, and Ken warned her that they would have to make a total of six trips across the fields before the season was done. Most of the corn was planted in fields that had been corn the year before, so after Ken pre-dressed the fields with nitrogen-rich anhydrous ammonia, he concentrated on running the big, expensive no-till planter behind the John Deere; Judy followed a day or so later, spraying herbicide as she had done the year before.

It wasn’t all field work, especially when it rained. After a rainfall, the fields would usually be too wet to work for a day or two; when that happened, Ken worked on machinery, and she could work on keeping up on her housekeeping, or occasionally go into the YMCA in Geneva for her workouts, which were now only taken when time was available.

One bright thing arose from having Lydia living right across the road. Judy confided her lack of knowledge about cooking, and Lydia began to show her the way around a kitchen. Frozen pizzas soon disappeared from the menu, and though Judy realized it would be a long time before she cooked as easily or as well as Lydia did, she could tell that Ken appreciated the difference.

One of the things they had missed in Athens had been close friends, so it was nice to renew their relationship with Bob and Lori. The spring was a busy time at the mill for Bob; he spent much of his time delivering fertilizer to farmers around Willow Lake, and Ken saw him from time to time as he pulled into the Sorensen farm, towing a tank or cart full of fertilizer.

Still, though both Bob and Ken had been working long hours, they got together on occasion to play cards, catch up on the local gossip, or just talk. Lori was happy to show off their little boy, and announce the baby’s latest accomplishment.

Farming was often the topic, though; one night, Bob asked Ken why he didn’t side-dress liquid fertilizer between the corn rows while he cultivated corn, rather than doing it in two separate trips.

"I don’t know," Ken replied. "You’d think it would work."

"L-L-L-Lots of pe-people do."

Ken shook his head. "I asked Dad to see what he could do to cut down on field hours, but I don’t see a lot of change. I think we’ve got an awful lot of corn, considering."

"S-S-Save you a t-trip."

"I’ll talk to Dad about it," Ken promised.

"Could s-s-side dress with an-an-anhydrous, too."

"We’ve already put a pretty big shot of ammonia on," Ken said, "But another year, I’d like to skip the pre-plant, give the corn a good shot of starter fertilizer, then come in with anhydrous as we cultivate. It wouldn’t waste away as fast."

"W-w-why d-doesn’t y-your Dad d-do it like th-that now?" Bob wanted to know.

"Never has, I guess," Ken shrugged. "I’ll have to try and talk him into it. I’m not looking forward to that. He’s not always real crazy about my farming ideas."

Lori shuddered. If those two got to talking farming these days, they might never stop. "Hey, let’s play some cards," she said.

The evening ended early; this time of year, the men and Judy had to get up early the next morning. On the way home, Judy commented, "From the way you talked to Bob tonight, you don’t seem too happy about what your dad has you doing."

"I’m in no position to argue," Ken told her. "I can make a suggestion here and there, but he doesn’t have to listen to it. After all, it’s his farm."

"That doesn’t seem right," Judy said. "You’re the one doing most of the work."

"Yeah, I know," Ken said. "The thing is, there isn’t much around the farm that I don’t know how to do. The problem is, I don’t necessarily know what to do when or why, so I don’t want to be too pushy."

"Yes," Judy said, "but with all we’re giving up to do this, it just seems your dad ought to listen when you have an idea."

"You’re already sounding like Carolyn," Ken smiled. "I’ve heard that before."

Judy was shocked. "I don’t understand."

"Look," he said. "This isn’t a commitment that lasts forever. We’re farm hands, and that’s all. Sooner or later, we can lease out the farm, and we don’t have to worry about what’s being done about the management."

"But why do I sound like Carolyn."

"It’s hard to explain," Ken said. "But you have to look at it from her point of view. Carolyn was a city girl, and she didn’t have any real view of what farm life was all about. Now, whatever else you can say about Carolyn, she isn’t dumb. She was bringing home more money from her job as a pharmacist than Tom was making on the farm. Up to a couple of years ago, she really resented the fact that Dad was running things, and didn’t have to listen to Tom or what he thought."

"I think I see," Judy said, shaking her head. "Was that why she was so bitter all the time?"

Ken nodded. "Sure, there was Tom, more married to the farm than he was to her, and she resented that. Whenever Tom tried to get Dad to do something, and he wouldn’t, he’d tell her all about it, and all she ever got was the negative side. Eventually, she decided that the farm was Tom’s job, and she wouldn’t have anything to do with it."

"I remember her saying something like that," Judy commented.

"I know for a fact that she wanted Tom to pull out and get a job in town," Ken went on. "Last year, things were a little better, since Tom really was running most of the things, with Dad sick. I know Tom talked Dad into getting the big combine, and I’m pretty sure Dad doesn’t think it was such a good idea."

"But what can we do?"

Ken shrugged. "This is the big reason I was reluctant to come back, but I didn’t think it would make sense to try to explain it to you back in Athens. After all, you get along real well with Mom and Dad, and I didn’t think you’d believe me."

"I guess you’re right," Judy admitted. "I’ll try not to let it get to me. What can we do?"

"We do the best we can, and we don’t complain. I’m really not complaining, anyway. I know I’ve got a lot to learn from Dad, and there’s a lot of stuff I never bothered to learn since I didn’t think I’d ever have to worry about it. I’m just going to work and hope that someday we can go back to school."

The summer wore on. After the corn was planted and sprayed, they had to hustle to get soybeans in.

The Sorensen farm was mostly a corn operation; both Chet and Tom had gravitated that way over the years, feeling that corn allowed them more profit. "The thing is," Ken explained to Judy one evening, "Corn is hard on the soil, so you have to make up in fertilizer what the corn takes out. To add to that, to get really profitable yields, you have to keep insect pests and weeds out of the field, and that means spraying and cultivating. Fertilizer isn’t cheap, and neither is spray. And, even if you get a good crop, the market can be so low that you can’t make a profit."

"So why all the other stuff?" Judy asked. "The wheat and the oats and the beans and the alfalfa?"

"Well, partly they’re to feed the steers," Ken explained. "And partly, because it’s good to put beans or alfalfa in a field that’s had corn in it for a while. Builds the nitrogen back up in the soil, and gives us a chance to get some of the corn pests out of the field." He stared off into space for a moment. "I wish we could do it more."

"You’re not happy about all the corn?"

"Yeah," Ken replied. "I’m not sure why, but there’s something about all this corn followed by corn followed by corn that just doesn’t set well with me."

Once the soybeans were in, it was time to cultivate corn. Ken asked Chet about Bob’s idea, of side-dressing liquid fertilizer at the same time, using a special implement rented from the feed mill. "Seems like it might be more messing around, to have to deal with two things at once," Chet said. "But why don’t you try it if you want to? It can’t hurt."

That evening, Ken told Judy about Chet’s approval of his idea. "It scares me, Crip," he said. "Tom would have had to work on him for days, showed him figures, and Dad would have had to work them out for himself. Now, he just says, ‘Go ahead and try it.’ It’s like he doesn’t care anymore. I wish he’d see a doctor, but he won’t."

Along in July, the rush died down a bit; even haying wasn’t a big hassle this

year, since they had less hay to bring in than in previous years, and much of it was cut for silage, less work than baling. Some bales were needed, though. One Saturday, Bob and Lori came out to the farm to help with getting the hay in. Lori left her baby with Lydia; even though Lori wasn’t a lot of help, she could ride on the tractor with Judy, and the two of them could catch up on the gossip.

Lori had some big news and she and Judy waited for Ken and Bob to finish off the first wagonload. "I’m pregnant again," she said excitedly.

Judy smiled. "You sure didn’t waste any time, did you?"

"We decided that if we were going to have more than one, we wanted them close together," Lori explained. "It seems like you two ought to be getting started some time."

"Not yet," Judy said, shaking her head. "A baby would really get in the way, especially when we go back to school."

"You still want to go back?"

Judy nodded. "Ken and I have been thinking that we could maybe go back up to Western for the winter term. The fall term is out, with all that corn to get in."

Lori burst out in laughter, and Judy wanted to know what was so funny. "You remember when we were back in school?" Lori said. "I’d have bet that right now, I’d be the one working on my degree and you’d be the one sitting at home."

Now it was Judy’s turn to laugh. "If you think that’s funny," she said, "Think about my mother. She always wanted to protect me like a fragile houseplant." Lori nodded in agreement, and Judy went on, "The other day, she dropped by. I was out spreading manure, and Lydia gave me a call on the CB to tell me she was here." Lori could just visualize Judy’s mother when she saw Judy drive the loader up to the farmhouse, towing the stinking, messy manure spreader. "I thought she was going to have a heart attack," Judy laughed.

"Well, I don’t blame her," Lori said, "You’re not the shy little girl we knew in high school."

Judy looked across the field with a critical eye. Ken and Bob had the wagon pretty well loaded; it was time to get over closer to them. She hit the old Farmall’s foot-switch starter button with a crutch tip, and the engine sputtered to life. "I’m not sure I believe it myself," she said to Lori over the exhaust noise.

Every time they got three wagons full, Ken and Bob would knock off the baling and go back up to the barn to unload the wagons; they were doing without extra help, and Lori had to be available at the baby’s feeding time. It was a hot afternoon, and after a while, the work slowed down. "Ken, how much do we have left?" Judy asked finally.

"A couple more wagonloads ought to do it," Ken said. "I’m getting about ready for the lake, myself."

"Good idea," Judy said. "Bob, why don’t you take the H out to the field this trip? Lori and I can throw together some sort of a picnic supper, and we can spend the evening down at the lake. I don’t suppose it’ll hurt the steers to get fed a couple hours early."

"S-s-s-sounds reasonable," Bob agreed.

While Judy went to do evening chores, Lori asked Lydia if she would mind watching the baby for a while longer. "Goodness, no," Lydia said. "It almost makes me feel like I’m a grandmother."

Lori noticed that Judy was still busy with chores, and went out to the loafing shed to watch Judy handle the loader, thinking that her friend handled the machine like it was part of her, and wondering just what it was in Judy that she had never seen in all those years they had been in school. It was like a symphony to watch; the loader raced this way and that, but Lori could see how precise everything was, in that the rope or switch that Judy needed to pull always was right within reach; the loader one foot out of position would make some of the reaches she had to make impossible, but Judy made every move like it was second nature.

Chores done, the two went across the road, where they rifled the refrigerator to put together some sort of supper. "We could roast hot dogs, I suppose," Judy said.

"Yeah," Lori agreed. "I should have done it while you were doing chores, but we’re going to have to swing by the house so I can pick up a swimsuit."

Judy eyed her friend; she’d put on some weight with her baby. "I’ve got a bikini that’s too big for me," she said. "I think you could probably wear it."

"Oh, Judy!" she said. "I’m too heavy for a bikini anymore, and my belly doesn’t look very good after the baby."

Judy just smiled and said, "I don’t think Bob will mind."

The sun was sinking low over Willow Lake. The swim had felt very refreshing, and later the guys had built a small fire for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. As they sat around the fire, Judy snuggled up against Ken. Lori lay with her head on Bob’s leg; he absently rubbed her bare belly with his fingers. "It’s nice, tonight," Judy said.

"Almost reminds me of the island," Ken agreed. "Too bad we can’t go up there this year."

"You two sure sound like you had a good time up there," Lori said contentedly.

"We did," Ken agreed. "Except for Tom, it was the start of what has been a pretty good year."

Judy added, "That was where we decided we wanted to get married."

"Are you glad you did?" Lori asked.

Ken looked at Judy, who smiled back at him. "Couldn’t be happier," he said.

Lori looked at the radiant Judy, casual in her skimpy bikini, and smiled. "I can’t get over how good Ken has been for you," she said. "I mean, in high school, you couldn’t even carry a lunch tray, and now, here you are, working around the farm just like you’d been doing it all your life."

"Oh, I still can’t carry a lunch tray," Judy said. "It’s just that I’ve developed a broader idea of what my limitations are."

Lori laughed. "I’d never have imagined you as a farm wife with a sunburned nose, wearing blue jeans and a baseball cap from the mill, towing a manure spreader and listening to Willie Nelson on the tape player."

"That’s not true," Judy laughed. "There isn’t a tape player on the loader." She turned to look at her husband. "You know, Ken, that’s not a bad idea, though."

Now it was Ken’s turn to laugh. "You don’t get enough Willie Nelson when you’re driving the 4630?"

"You’re the one who’s driving it most of the time," she charged.

"Come on, you know what I mean," Lori said, shifting her position in the sand slightly.

Judy nodded. "You’re right," she said. "For a long time, I was afraid to try anything new. Then, it was a challenge. Now, if something needs to be done, I just go ahead and do it. I guess I don’t think about it much anymore."

Lori shifted again. "I’ve got sand up this swimsuit," she said. "What do you say we go swimming again, and then get back? We’ve got to get the kid home pretty soon."

"Yeah," Ken said. "We’ve got chores in the morning, and then church."

The CB radio squawked with Lydia’s voice. "Ken! Come quick! Your father’s sick!"

Judy looked back, to see that the manure spreader was almost empty. She knew that Ken was plowing on the Duck Farm on this beautiful late August day. She pulled the rope to shut it off, then dropped the loader into road gear. It bounced across the rough field as she raced for the house.

As she swung off the loader and picked up her crutches, Ken came roaring up in the big green John Deere; he raced up the steps to the house, leaving Judy struggling along in his wake. Inside, they found Chet collapsed on the floor, with Lydia hovering over him. "Did you call the ambulance?" Ken asked.

"I did," she said tearfully. "I don’t know what happened. He just keeled over."

Judy got down on the floor and began to examine her father-in-law. She could see that he was breathing, and she could feel a pulse, very weak and rapid. She tried to loosen his clothes. "What’s wrong?" Ken asked.

"I don’t know," Judy said. "But he’s still alive."

The waiting room in the emergency department at the Geneva Hospital was dismal; Ken and Judy knew it from that day when they had hovered over Ken’s father after the accident two years before. Now, they were waiting again, and Ken felt that the news couldn’t be good. After what seemed like weeks, a doctor in light green came in to see them. "He’s resting quietly," they were told.

"What happened?" Lydia asked.

"Heart attack. A mild one. He ought to recover."

They weren’t allowed to see Chet until the next day. When Ken and Judy came into the room, they found him with tubes running from him in every direction. He looked so weak and sick that Ken could hardly believe that he could ever get better. Chet smiled to see his son and daughter-in-law were there; he gave a weak wave of welcome. "How are you feeling, Dad?" Ken asked.

"Not good," his father answered, in a voice so weak Ken had to lean over to hear him.

"They say you’re going to be fine," Judy smiled.

Chet blinked. "Don’t know if I believe them."

"Aw, come on," Ken said. "You’ll be back looking over my shoulder in no time."

"I don’t know," Chet said, looking at his remaining son and Judy. "Will you kids do something for me?"

"Sure, Dad. What?" Ken asked.

"The farm has been in the family for six generations," Chet said. He paused to catch his breath before he went on in a barely-audible whisper, "I was never sure Tom could do it, but I think you two kids can."

"What, Chet?" Judy asked.

"If there’s any way," he said slowly, "Keep it in the family somehow."