The lawyer’s voice faded as he finished reading Grandma’s will. A cold grip tightened around my chest. The farm, our family’s heart, was now Felicity’s.

My cousin had always treated the farm as just a pretty backdrop for her social media posts. I struggled to breathe as disbelief washed over me. How many dawns had I risen to help Grandma with the animals? How many days did I spend in the fields while Felicity used the place for fleeting weekends?

“Are you okay, Diana?” the lawyer asked gently.

I nodded, my throat tight. He handed me a letter. My hands shook as I opened it, revealing Grandma’s familiar handwriting:

“My dearest Diana,

If you are reading this, the time has come for a choice. I know you love this farm, but I needed to be sure the true caretaker would emerge. I’ve left the farm to Felicity, but you have the right to live here as long as you wish. As long as you remain, it cannot be sold. Please be patient; the second part of my will will be revealed in three months.

Woman reading a letter on a farm | Source: Midjourney

Love, Grandma.”

A sharp sting pierced my chest. Why not just leave it to me? Was this a test of my dedication? I glanced at Felicity, whose excitement was palpable as she whispered with her husband about selling.

“Take the money, Diana. You could have a nice place in the city,” Felicity offered later, her tone dismissive.

“This isn’t about money. It’s about family,” I replied, icy.

That night, I lay awake, memories swirling in my mind. I knew what I had to do. By morning, I had requested a leave of absence from my job. I needed to stall their plans.

Felicity handed me the keys with a smirk, eager to leave the responsibilities behind.

The days on the farm were a whirlwind. Each morning, I rose before dawn, groaning at the thought of the tasks ahead. As I fed the cows, I muttered, “How did Grandma do this every day?”

When I heard a familiar voice behind me, I sighed in relief. “Need help again?” Mr. Harris asked, chuckling. He set to work on the fence, sharing Grandma’s wisdom.

“She always said, ‘A good fence makes a happy farm.’”

I nodded, my spirits lifting as we worked together. “I hope I’m doing this right.”

“You’re doing more than you know,” he said, patting my shoulder.

One evening, smoke filled the air. I turned to see flames licking the roof of the farmhouse. “No! Fire!” I screamed.

Neighbors rushed over, but it was too late. Mr. Harris held me back, assuring me the animals were safe. As I watched helplessly, I whispered, “It’s all gone.”

The next morning, Felicity arrived, glancing at the wreckage. “This changes things, doesn’t it?”

“Felicity, the house is gone, but the farm is still here,” I insisted.

She shrugged. “That’s exactly why it’s time to sell. Look around, it’s a disaster.”

“I’m not leaving,” I said firmly. “This is my home.”

“You can’t stay here,” she argued. “You’re living in a barn!”

“I’ll figure it out,” I replied, resolved.

After a call to my boss, I learned my job was gone. Mr. Harris approached, concern etched on his face. “You alright?”

“No,” I whispered. “But I’ll be fine. Somehow.”

“Don’t give up just yet,” he encouraged.

The weeks that followed were grueling. I repaired fences, tilled soil, and planted crops. Mr. Harris was always there, teaching me about the land and animals.

“You’ve done good, Diana,” he said one evening. “Your grandma would be proud.”

“I finally understand why she did what she did,” I replied. “She wanted someone who’d love this farm as much as she did.”

Finally, the day came for the second part of the will to be read. Felicity’s smugness turned to panic as the lawyer revealed:

“Felicity, I always intended for the farm to belong to the one who truly cares for it…”

Felicity turned pale. “This is ridiculous!”

Jack stood, holding a receipt. “I saw Felicity near the farm on the day of the fire.”

As the truth emerged, Felicity’s attempts to destroy my claim unraveled.

“Diana, the farm is now officially yours,” the lawyer announced.

In the days that followed, I embraced my role as guardian of the farm. Grandma’s spirit lingered in every corner, and I felt a renewed sense of purpose.

One evening, Jack asked, “How about that dinner I promised you?”

“I think I finally have the time,” I replied, excitement blooming.

The farm was my past, present, and, thanks to Jack, perhaps my future held a bit of happiness too.