Free Beneath the Night Tree by Nicole Baart Page A

downward slant of her mouth.
    “Simon,” I warned. “That’s not true. And this isn’t your story to tell.”
    His head drooped lower.
    “No one is moving to Iowa City,” I said, trying to placate both of them. “Michael asked me to come with him . . .” I caught myself and added, “And Simon and Daniel, too, but I said no. Well, I haven’t said no yet, but I haven’t said yes. And I’m not going to.”
    Grandma nodded slowly. “Did he . . . propose?”
    It hurt so much to say the word, I found that the only thing I could do was shake my head. “One of his professors is on leave, and Michael asked him if I could move into his house for a couple of months. It would be a . . . trial.”
    “A trial? A trial of what, exactly?”
    “I don’t know,” I whispered, overwhelmed by how hurt I was that his offer hadn’t been one of marriage. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? I mean, he should know, right? If he wants to be with me—with us—or not.”
    I expected to feel Grandma’s arms around me, but when she didn’t move to comfort me in any way, I looked up to find her cool and unemotional. “I don’t know, Julia,” she said carefully. “I don’t think it’s such a terrible idea. It might be good for you to see if this is what you really want. Michael is the only person you’ve dated since Daniel was born. What if you spend more time together and realize that it isn’t meant to be? What if God has something else in store?”
    Her words stunned me. Something else in store? For me? Who was she kidding? “I love Michael,” I said quietly.
    “Then you have to go.”
    “But—”
    “But nothing,” Grandma interrupted. “Have you heard of the phrase ‘leave and cleave’? What about, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh’?”
    “We’re hardly one flesh,” I muttered.
    “Maybe you will be. Either way, I don’t think this—” she spread her arm wide to encompass the whole of our land—“is all God has planned for you, Julia. It might be time to dream bigger than our little farm.”
    This wasn’t the way I had hoped this conversation would go. I thought Grandma would be surprised, maybe a little saddened, and then ultimately supportive. I didn’t need her second-guessing my decision or the motives behind it.
    “I can’t leave,” I said, staring at my empty hands as if the answers that were supposed to be hidden inside had slipped through my fingers.
    “Why not?”
    Because of you. Because Simon doesn’t want to go. Because this is the only home I’ve ever known. . . .
    We didn’t say anything for a long time. Unspoken words drifted between us like the debris of a phantom conversation, one that didn’t go quite according to plan. Simon picked at his cupcake, Grandma gazed off over the fields, and I stole glances at both of them, loving them in silence and wishing I could say all the things that I felt. When Daniel finally came back, a fat, green and brown frog squeezed in the death grip of his dirty palm, Grandma sighed and reached to pat my knee.
    “We have much to think about,” she said, mustering up a smile for Daniel as he approached. “Lots of decisions to make.”
    She didn’t know the half of it.

Little Gifts
    I drove the boys to school on Monday, even though my shift at Value Foods was supposed to start at six. It was an extra two hours of vacation, time that I had worked hard for and—my manager assured me—I deserved. Though it meant starting my workweek a little behind, I was grateful for the opportunity to ease into my fall routine. The questions and uncertainties that collected in our house like a fine layer of dust were making a muddle of my already-confused mind. It didn’t help that after our picnic confrontation, no one said another word about Michael’s proposed trial. I wondered how they would react if they knew about Parker. The thought made me shudder.
    Grandma tried to