I Married My Childhood Enemy to Save Our Family Farm – But After the Wedding, He Took Me to the Barn and Showed Me What Our Parents Had Been Hiding from Us for 20 Years
I hated him most when I found apples by my pony’s trough and Dad kicked them into the dirt.
“He left those to mock us,” Dad said.
I was young enough to believe him. “Why would he do that?”
“Because, Hazel, that family wants us looking weak.”
So I stopped waving to Tom across the fence.
Years later, when spring arrived dry and cruel, both farms began to fail. Dad held meetings after dinner and went silent whenever I entered the room.
One night, Dad called me into the kitchen.
Tom was already there with his parents.
I stopped in the doorway. “Why is he here?”
“Sit down, Hazel,” Dad said.
“I’ll stand.”
Grant looked at Tom. Tom’s mouth twisted. “They say the only way to save both farms is if we get married.”
I looked at Dad. “No.”
Mom flinched as if I had slammed a door.
Dad said, “You love this land.”
“I’m asking you to help save it.”
“Then tell me why marriage fixes a money problem.”
Nobody answered.
Dad lowered his voice. “It’s the only option.”
I should have walked out right then. But I was exhausted by brown pastures, unpaid bills, and Mom staring through windows as if she were watching her former self walk away.
So I married Tom beneath a white tent while half the county whispered into paper cups.
At the reception, the smell of barbecue smoke drifted across the patio.
Then I saw Dad laughing with Grant.
My stomach went cold.
“Don’t look at them,” Tom said.
“Why?”
