Plowed by My Stepfather novel · Chapter 24 of 24

Chapter 24: The Furrow

The first week of April came back around, and the ground was ready.

Dean walked out to the north field before supper with a tractor and a four-bottom plow hitched behind it.

I walked out behind him in my mother's old barn coat, carrying two cups of coffee.

The co-op had won the bid on the Lindqvist elevator in January.

Birdie sat on its board and had already fired the coffee machine.

Orrin lived in his sister's guest room in Arizona, and I had not asked about him once.

"Climb up," Dean said.

"I've driven the planter."

"The planter doesn't cut sod. Climb up."

I handed him the coffee and swung up into the seat.

He stood on the drawbar behind me with one hand on the fender and the other on my shoulder.

His chest was warm against my back.

"Ease out the clutch," he said into my ear. "Not so fast."

"I'm not going fast."

"You're going fast."

"I'm going exactly as fast as you told me."

He laughed, and I felt it down my spine.

The tractor lurched, and the plow bit into the dirt behind us.

I felt the weight come on through the seat, a deep steady pull, as the blades went into the sod.

"Keep your eye on the fence post," he said. "Not on the ground. The ground will wander."

"I know."

"You don't know. You've never done it."

"I will," I said. "Hold the wheel with me."

He leaned in and put his big scarred hands over mine.

We took the first furrow together.

The black earth peeled up on our right in a long glossy ribbon and rolled over, and the smell of it rose up around us, cold and rich.

Gulls had come in from nowhere and followed the plow, squealing.

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